He drew in a shuddering breath, his eyes locked onto hers.
“I love you, Genevieve,” he said, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I love you more than anything or anyone in this world.”
In a gesture of raw vulnerability, he sank to his knees before her, his usually composed facade stripped bare. His eyes, brimming with desperation, searched hers for even the smallest glimmer of hope.
“Please, Genevieve,” he implored, his voice breaking. “Forgive me.”
Genevieve’s chest tightened, her heart a storm of emotions that she could not untangle.
The pain of his betrayal warred with the undeniable love she still felt for him—a love she wished she could simply cast aside.
Her voice trembled as she spoke, her words barely louder than a whisper. “It will take time, Wilhelm,” she said. “Trust takes time. And it will take us time to rebuild everything we have lost.”
His shoulders sagged slightly, but the hope that now lit up his eyes was unmistakable.
“I understand,” he said, his voice now steady and filled with sincerity and determination. “I will wait for you, Genevieve. For as long as it takes. I will do anything—everything—to earn your forgiveness and win back your love.”
Chapter Thirty
“Come, my love,” Wilhelm murmured, his voice filled with adoration. “Let us return to Ravenshire.”
He took her hand and led her towards the door.
As they stepped onto the grand staircase, Marianne appeared at the bottom, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, opening her mouth as if to speak, but she hesitated, searching their faces for the answers she sought.
“Your Grace,” she acknowledged.
Wilhelm, his gaze filled with remorse, bowed his head slightly. “Lady Clowefield,” he said with regret, “I apologize for my earlier outburst. I should not have raised my voice in your home.”
Marianne’s expression softened, “I appreciate your apology, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice carrying a hint of warmth. “But I must warn you—if you ever hurt Genevieve again…”
Wilhelm’s gaze sharpened. “I will not,” he vowed, his eyes locking onto hers. “On my honor, I swear that I will never hurt her again.”
Marianne’s smile widened, and she gave him a nod of approval. “I believe you, Your Grace,” she said simply.
His heart filled with gratitude, Wilhelm bowed his head once more. “Thank you, My Lady,” he replied warmly.
“Call me Marianne,” she said softly, and he offered her a nod.
“Thank you, Marianne,” he responded. Then, he turned to Genevieve, his eyes filled with love and promise.
“Come, my love,” he murmured. “Let us go home.”
As the crunch of gravel underfoot gave way to the polished floors of the entrance hall at Ravenshire Mansion, the house seemed to exhale softly in welcome.
Wilhelm held Genevieve’s hand firmly, the warmth of his touch anchoring her as they moved through the halls. The flickeringcandlelight cast golden patterns on the walls, each step echoing in the quiet.
They climbed up the sweeping staircase together, the air heavy with anticipation.
Wilhelm’s pace quickened, driven by an urgency he could no longer contain. Genevieve followed, her heart pounding in rhythm with their ascent.
The door to his bedchamber creaked open, revealing the dimly lit sanctuary within.
Wilhelm guided her inside, releasing her hand only to close the door behind them. The gentle click of the latch resonated as his hands reached up, cupping her face with a reverence that made her breath hitch.
His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, the tender caress sending shivers down her spine. His emerald-green eyes, dark and intent, locked onto hers, their depths swirling with emotions.
