Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

“What is all this?” Genevieve inquired.

She paused in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the unexpected scene before her.

The dining hall, which was ordinarily a cavernous expanse of gleaming mahogany, had been completely transformed.

A smaller table, draped in a pristine white tablecloth and adorned with flickering candles and fragrant flowers, occupied the center of the room. The candles cast a warm, inviting glow over the intimate seating arrangement.

Wilhelm took a seat and turned his back to her as he poured a deep crimson wine into a crystal decanter.

He turned back and smiled at her.

“Dinner with my wife,” he announced, his voice a quiet hum that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

Genevieve smiled cautiously as a warm glow slowly spread across her chest which eased the apprehension that still lingered in her eyes.

She approached the table, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpet, her gaze lingering on the delicate arrangement of lilies and red roses that graced its center.

As they took their seats, a discreet retinue of servants appeared, their movements swift and seamless as they presented the first course.

The rich aroma of roast pheasant and spiced vegetables wafted through the air and blended with the sweet fragrance of the lilies. The symphony of scents tempted Genevieve’s senses. She shifted in her seat, still unsettled, and fixed her eyes intently on Wilhelm as she studied his every move.

The servants had discreetly withdrawn, leaving them alone in the soft candlelight.

Genevieve found herself unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

“Why?” she asked. “Why all this?”

Wilhelm’s emerald-green eyes locked onto hers, and he smiled softly at her. “Because you are my wife,” he said tenderly, his voice a velvet murmur. “And you deserve to be treated as such. And this is only the beginning.”

Genevieve’s heart pounded in her chest, disbelief and a burgeoning hope fluttering within her.

“I… I do not understand,” she stammered, her gaze darting away from his intense stare. “This is unlike you.”

“What is your definition of ‘me’, dear Genevieve?” he countered, his voice a gentle challenge. “The aloof Duke? The brooding master of Ravenshire? Or…” He paused, his gaze softening. “A man who is doomed?”

“I…” she began, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “I do not know.”

Wilhelm reached across the table, his fingers gently tracing the back of her hand. “Then allow me to show you,” he murmured, his voice a soft command that made her tremble with nervous anticipation.

Genevieve’s skin tingled at his touch. She became mesmerized by his fingers as they drew tiny circles on the back of her hand. The warmth of his touch stood in sharp contrast to her cool skin. She could not ignore the pull she felt towards him—it was a magnetic allure that lit her up from the inside, no matter how hard she resisted.

“Your Grace,” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, “why are you doing this for me?”

He withdrew his hand and looked at her. “Why is it so difficult to believe that I simply wish to spoil my wife?” he huffed in frustration.

Genevieve’s gaze hardened. “Because… you must have ulterior motives. It does not make sense that you go to these lengths for me,” she retorted defiantly. “Men like you always have ulterior motives.”

Wilhelm’s jaw clenched, and his expression became stony. “I am disappointed in you, Genevieve. I had hoped you would see beyond the baseless prejudices of the Ton. I know they judge me. They say I am a monster, not a man. But I did not think that you would permit yourself to become a part of that, given your clashes with them.”

He clenched his fist. “These are the same people who have ostracized you, spread lies about you, and cast you aside. You, of all people, should know that they will say anything that will fuel their imaginations in order to distract themselves from examining their banal existence.”

Genevieve scoffed. “It’s not about the Ton, Your Grace,” she countered, her voice rising. “It is about you. About your family. About the role your father played in my family’s downfall.”

Her honest admission mollified Wilhelm. He closed his eyes, then slowly reopened them to reveal a look of regret. “Your father was a poor estate manager, Genevieve,” he explained. “He was solely responsible for his misfortunes.”

Genevieve’s blood rushed to her head. “How dare you?” she snapped. “You know nothing about my father or the struggles he faced.”

Wilhelm’s eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored her own.

“I know much more than you think, Genevieve,” he confessed, his voice low and somber. “Since I was a child, my father made it a point to include me in his business dealings. He believed it was educational.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I admit that he pushed your father too hard,” he said regretfully. “I saw it then, even as a boy, and I despised him for it.”

Genevieve’s anger subsided as a wave of sadness overtook her. She had never considered that Wilhelm might have witnessed her father’s struggles, or that he might have shared her resentment towards his father.

“If your father were still alive,” he continued, his voice sincere, “Even though I have my doubts about your father’s situation, I would have shown him leniency and restored his fortune and honor everything that my father took away from him.”

Genevieve’s gaze dropped to her plate, and her heart ached with bittersweet longing for her late father.

“If my father were still alive,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, “we would not be in this situation. There would have been no need to marry me or show my father leniency.”

Wilhelm’s low and measured voice carried an unexpected gentleness. “I am truly sorry, Genevieve,” he said. “For everything.”

Genevieve was stunned by the sincerity of his words. He was not the cold, aloof Duke she had come to expect. At that moment, he was simply Wilhelm, a man who understood her pain and shared her grief.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

The tension in the room dissipated like mist in the morning sun as a comfortable camaraderie enveloped them.

Genevieve, her heart lighter than it had been in years, finally picked up her fork and began to eat, and immersed her senses in the succulent slices of roast pheasant, potatoes, and sautéed wild mushrooms.

After several delicious mouthfuls, she decided to break the silence.

“Your Grace,” she asked, “would you indulge me in a game?”

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “A game, Duchess?” he said in a playful tone. “What sort of game do you have in mind?”

Genevieve’s lips curled into an impish smile. “A game of questions,” she explained. “It seems unjust that you know so much about my life, while I remain in the dark about yours.”

Wilhelm chuckled. “An interview, then,” he corrected, his tone teasing. “Not a game.”

“Perhaps,” Genevieve conceded, her smile widening. “But with a small twist.”

“A twist?” he inquired as he leaned towards her with undisguised curiosity.

“Yes,” Genevieve confirmed, her eyes glinting with mischief. “If one of us does not wish to answer a question, we owe the other a favor.”

“And what sort of favor might that be?”

Genevieve shrugged, her smile widening. “That is for the recipient to decide,” she replied, her voice playful as she raised both eyebrows at him. “The favor remains a mystery until it is claimed.”

Amusement danced in Wilhelm’s eyes as he considered her proposition.

“Very well,” he finally agreed, nodding sharply. “I accept your challenge, Duchess. But you should be aware that I am not someone who is easily bested.”

Genevieve’s smile widened. “Nor am I, Your Grace,” she retorted with playful defiance.

Wilhelm inclined his head in a gesture of acceptance. “Ladies first?”

Genevieve giggled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she took a deep breath.

“Why did you marry me?” she asked, her voice steady and clear.

Wilhelm’s lips curled into a subtle smile. “I should have expected that to be your first question,” he snorted.

Genevieve raised an eyebrow, her expression challenging. “Do you have an answer, Your Grace?” she prompted. “Or would you rather owe me a favor?”

Wilhelm smirked, biting his lower lip as he briefly looked away.

“Indeed, I do,” he confirmed, his gaze returning to hers. “First, I needed a wife. An heir is essential to securing the Ravenshire legacy.”

Genevieve nodded, her expression thoughtful. “And second?” she prompted, her curiosity piqued.

“The truth is that you see this world for what it truly is, Genevieve.” He met her eyes, his expression serious. “You are not blinded by the gilded trappings of the Ton—their shallowness, the hypocrisy… I could never marry a woman who is easily influenced by Society. You see things clearly. You see me clearly.” He paused as a crooked smile formed on his lips. “Well, for the most part.”

Genevieve’s heart melted, a warmth spreading through her chest at his words. She had never considered that her experiences, the pain and discrimination she had endured, would be seen as a strength.

“Besides,” he added, his emerald-green eyes flashing in the candlelight, “I rather enjoy the fact that they are all terrified of you.”

Genevieve’s smile faltered. “I am not cursed,” she snapped.

Wilhelm chuckled, his gaze softening. “I never said you were,” he assured her, his voice gentle. “But there is a certain power in being feared.”

Genevieve scoffed, staring straight at him. “I am certain that you know all about being feared.”

Wilhelm raised an eyebrow, shaking his head with an amused expression. “What does that mean?”

“Did you not publicly threaten and shame Lord Beaumont in front of the entire Ton?” Genevieve grinned, flashing her teeth. “At a ball, no less.”

Wilhelm leaned forward slightly. “Yes, I did. Was that impressive?”

Genevieve’s cheeks flushed crimson. “I—I…” she stammered, her heart rate quickening. “That is not what I meant.”

“So, I have impressed you,” Wilhelm murmured, his voice laced with a sultry edge that caused a blush to spread across her face.

She shrugged and looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

“Now, it is my turn,” Wilhelm declared, rubbing his hands together as he pondered his question. “Tell me, Genevieve, do you find me handsome?”

Genevieve opened her mouth to say no, but his raised eyebrow reminded her of the forfeit.

She took a deep breath and then said, “You are… objectively attractive,” she replied, her voice carefully neutral.

Wilhelm leaned back in his chair. “Objectively?” He laughed in mock disbelief at her word choice. “Is that the best you can do, Duchess?”

Genevieve held back the smile that was threatening to break through her carefully constructed facade. “I believe it is an accurate observation,” she countered.

Wilhelm’s smile widened. “Very well,” he conceded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I shall accept your objective observation.”

“My turn now.” Genevieve giggled. “What is your favorite color?”

Wilhelm offered her a playful smile. “I believe I have already expressed my fondness for a particular shade of sapphire blue,” he purred, his eyes lingering meaningfully on hers. “It just so happens to be the color of your eyes, my Duchess.”

Genevieve rolled her eyes in an effort to ignore the fluttering in her chest and the suggestive undertone in his response.

Wilhelm chuckled.

“My turn again,” he said. “Do you consider me a good kisser?” he asked as he wiggled his eyebrows at her dramatically.

Genevieve’s eyes widened, and she exhaled sharply, her fingers running through her hair as his gaze dropped to her lips.

“I think…” she began, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“You think what?” he prompted, drumming his fingers lightly on the table, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I can say that I have not kissed you enough to know,” she stated as she collected herself.

Wilhelm’s gaze darkened and moved deliberately from her eyes to her heaving chest. “We can certainly remedy that,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

Genevieve felt her heart race, and in an attempt to steady herself, she reached for her wine glass. In her flustered state, her hand knocked against the edge of the table. She gasped in dismay as the wine glass wobbled. As she tried to steady it, some of the wine splashed on the white tablecloth.

Her face flushed with embarrassment, and she quickly wiped the spot with her napkin. “I-I am so sorry about that.”

“You look rather pretty when you are flustered,” Wilhelm said seductively. “It is entertaining to see how easily I can make you lose your composure.”

Genevieve looked up at him as frustration and embarrassment coursed through her veins. She straightened, her voice firm despite the growing need inside of her to touch him, caress his face and taste his lips.

“I am not so easily rattled,” she said, her eyes locking onto his.

Wilhelm leaned back in his chair as he felt the tension between them grow again.

“We will see about that,” he promised.

After a brief pause, Genevieve shifted in her seat and began to trace the rim of her glass as she worked on regaining her composure.

She decided to buy herself some time until she was once again in full command of her faculties.

“So,” she said, forcing a change of subject, “how long have you and Lord Gaverton been friends?”

“Gaverton and I are not friends, Genevieve,” Wilhelm replied, his voice low but firm. “We are business partners, and our relationship is purely professional.”

Genevieve raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in her expression. “Business partners?” she echoed, her tone light but intrigued. “I would have guessed that the two of you were longtime close acquaintances if not friends.”

Wilhelm nodded thoughtfully. “Most people do,” he admitted. “I can say that we have discovered a lot of mutual interests over the years, but Gaverton and I have always kept our interactions strictly professional.”

Genevieve nodded thoughtfully, her curiosity piqued.

“Interesting,” she murmured as she studied his face.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, their gazes locked in an unspoken battle that neither seemed willing to lose.

“Why do you not address me as Wilhelm?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She blinked at him. “I thought you preferred to be feared and respected. Would that not suggest that I am doing neither?” she purred.

Wilhelm chuckled. “I do not want my wife to fear me.”

“I am not afraid of you,” Genevieve replied as she bit her lip.

“That is quite a good thing,” he said agreeably. “Then call me Wilhelm, from now on.”

She paused for a moment, her gaze lingering on his full lips as he spoke. It was hard to believe that this man was the same cold, intimidating Duke who had struck fear into the hearts of the Ton. In truth, he was surprisingly pleasant to be around.

Yet, she could understand how his past had shaped the guarded and formidable image he presented to the world.

“What was your father like?” she asked.

A shadow passed over Wilhelm’s face. He closed his eyes briefly, reopening them with a hardened expression.

“I… shall owe you a favor,” he said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.

Genevieve felt like she should have expected that response, given their tumultuous relationship. He was already quite cagey, but she still wanted to know what had transpired to shape him into the man he was today.

But today was not the day that he would willingly offer that information.

She nodded in acceptance of his forfeit.

As the evening drew to a close, their dessert lay half-eaten on the table as a tribute to the evening’s captivating conversation.

Genevieve rose from her chair, with a newfound lightness in her step.

“Thank you for such a pleasant dinner, Wilhelm,” she said, her voice sincere.

Wilhelm’s lips curled into a genuine smile at the sound of his name, and a warmth radiated from his eyes that woke up the sleeping butterflies in her chest.

He leaned closer, and his breath fanned her face as he spoke. “Do not thank me.” His lips hovered near her ear as he whispered, “You have not yet experienced real pleasure with me, Genevieve.”

His sensual words caused a primal wellspring of need to erupt within her. Her mouth quickly went dry, and she swallowed nervously as she tried to remain unruffled by his sensual whispers.

“Is that so?” she asked coyly.

“I meant exactly what I just said,” he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. “What you have experienced so far…” He paused, letting the tension rise. “It is nothing compared to what is yet to come. I can promise you that.”

Genevieve felt her legs tremble as the warmth increased between them and her heart skipped a beat, her pulse quickening as a forceful need blossomed within her. His words, so certain, so commanding, had rendered her speechless.

She gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. “How can you be so sure of that?” she managed to say in a tremulous voice.

He pulled away just enough to look into her eyes, his amusement evident in his gaze.

“Because I know exactly how to push you to the edge, Genevieve,” he said, his voice thick. “And when I do, you will understand exactly what I meant.”