Genevieve’s mind reeled. “Sold? But… where will I go?”
Lord Mirfield shrugged, his expression callous. “That, my dear Lady Mirfield, is no longer my concern. I have washed my hands of you. Enjoy your walk.”
He abruptly turned around and strode away, leaving Genevieve frozen in shock, her heart heavy with despair.
The world seemed to tilt as Hyde Park’s vibrant hues, bustling crowds, and lively voices merged into an indiscernible mass. Genevieve’s breathing became rapid and uncontrolled as the panic and anxiety overcame her and a suffocating weight constricted her chest. The ground beneath her feet felt unsteady, as though the earth itself was collapsing from the force of an earthquake.
She could not make sense of Lord Mirfield’s announcement. His words echoed in her ears, each syllable a venomous barb piercing her heart.
He believes that I killed my husband. He believes me to be cursed. He holds me responsible. Death follows me like a plague. I will have nowhere to go, no one I can turn to, and no home to keep me safe.
She pressed her hands tightly over her ears. She had heard enough, yet the words continued to seep into her mind, reverberating in a vile chorus that would not stop. The whispers, stares, and accusations all coalesced into an unbearable burden that threatened to crush her beneath its weight.
Unexpectedly, amidst the clamor of her panic, a small flame of defiance ignited within her.
Genevieve pulled her hands away from her ears, lifted her head, and straightened her spine. At that moment, she resolved not to allow the cruelty of Lord Mirfield and the Ton to break her.
She would find a way, as she always had. Until that moment, she had suffered their rumors, whispers, and cruelty with the belief that circumstances beyond her control had caused her current misfortune. The Ton had cursed her and condemned her to a life of loneliness. If that was to be her fate, she would endure it.
A faint sigh escaped her lips. “Marianne, Owen, I apologize, but I must return home,” she said in a strained voice, although her resolve remained firm. “The fresh air seems to have lost its charm. Thank you for the delightful afternoon and the tea. I quite enjoyed our time together.”
Marianne, ever perceptive, nodded sympathetically. “Of course, dear Genevieve. We completely understand.”
Owen cordially offered her his arm. His warmth was a needed comfort amidst the chaos in her mind. “Allow us to escort you home.”
Upon reaching her townhouse, Genevieve paused, steeling herself for the unbearable solitude that would follow their departure. As she bid Marianne and Owen farewell, she wished she could ask them to stay with her a while longer, if only to distract herself from the precariousness of her current situation.
She took a deep breath and summoned her inner strength.
As she stepped across the threshold and into the familiar sanctuary of her townhouse, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The bustling streets of London, with their whispers and stares, faded into the background, and at last, she could breathe freely.
“My Lady,” a voice called, startling her.
Her dependable butler, Thomas, greeted her with the warm smile that always seemed to grace his lined face.
“Thomas.” Genevieve managed a faint smile. “It is good to see you.”
“And you, My Lady,” Thomas replied, his voice a soothing balm to her racing thoughts. “I trust your outing was pleasant?”
Genevieve hesitated, debating whether or not to confide in him, then decided against it, unwilling to burden him with her troubles.
“It was… eventful,” she replied.
Thomas nodded, his gentle brown eyes unreadable. “I see, My Lady. Well, I am pleased to inform you that a package has arrived.”
Genevieve furrowed her brow. “A package? I am not expecting anything.”
“Indeed, My Lady. A rather large white package arrived only moments ago.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh… very well, show me then.”
Genevieve followed Thomas to the parlor, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpets. A large box sat on the elegant settee, its plain exterior giving no hint of its contents.
“Thank you, Thomas,” Genevieve said, her curiosity mounting. “You may go.”
Thomas bowed and discreetly withdrew, closing the doors behind him.
Genevieve turned back to the box, her fingers tracing its smooth surface. With a hesitant breath, she lifted the lid, and her heart leaped in surprise.
