Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

A night of revelry at Lord and Lady Grey's home was the night's entertainment. Thankfully, this evening, Genevieve's mama had approved the outing, and she was in attendance with the Duchess of Lane-Fox, Lady Matilda's mama, and her elder brothers and his fiancée who were recently engaged.

No one could scold her, or order her to return home like an errant child.

Like Lord Tyndall, who, at this moment, watched her over the rim of his whisky glass, his eyes following her around the room, raising one condescending eyebrow whenever he caught her talking or smiling at a gentleman she admired.

This evening, several gentlemen were worthy of conversation, but Mr. Venzellons was her intent. Tonight, she was determined to get an offer of marriage out of the gentleman. He had asked her papa, so it only made sense he would ask her soon after.

Indeed, if she were to flutter her eyelashes and purse her lips, he would see she was interested in his suit and get enough nerve to ask for her hand.

Otherwise, she was unsure what else she had to do to get him to understand that she was open to an offer of marriage.

He asked her father over a week ago, and still, he had not called and proposed his hand—presented a future with him. He must know that her father would have informed her of an imminent offer.

What was wrong with the man?

"Lady Genevieve, may I have the honor of the next dance?"

Genevieve turned, having not seen Mr. Venzellons' approach from behind, even though she'd been looking every which way for his arrival. But never mind, he was here now, inviting her to dance.

"I would like that very much, Mr. Venzellons. Thank you." He led her out onto the dance floor, his hand tight and a little uncomfortable on her arm.

The stirring notes of an allemande started to play, and he pulled her into his arms. He merged skillfully with the other dancers and moved easily around the dance floor.

"You look beautiful this evening, Lady Genevieve." He cleared his throat, taking in those around him before continuing. "There is something that I have been meaning to ask, and I hope now is an appropriate time."

"Of course, you may ask me anything." Was now going to be her moment? Finally, after three Seasons, she was about to become engaged. Oh, how her friends would welcome this news. Be excited for her. Planning a wedding while in the highest echelon of society would be most enjoyable.

He smiled, and Genevieve returned his gesture. Her heart beat fast, and her skin was uncommonly clammy. This was what excitement felt like when one was about to be proposed to. Surely it was…

"I would like to ask if you would honor me to become my wife. I know that my home is far from yours, and it would mean you would leave your beloved England, but I'm more than capable of making you happy. Please consider my request."

Finally, he had proposed, and how did she feel now that he had? Excitement, yes. One being proposed to was always enjoyable, and she had several over the years. But this was the first one she hoped for.

But as thrilling as the proposal was, she felt… nothing .

Oh dear. This was not what she had thought to occur, and she did not understand why she was feeling the way she was.

She wanted to be married to him, did she not?

"Mr. Venzellons, I do not know what to say… That is, well, how lovely of you to ask me to be your wife. I had no idea that you saw me in that position."

"Well, of course. I thought I was somewhat bold with my affection for you, but in the future, if you agree with what I wish, I may have to increase my interest so you are aware."

Genevieve used the dance to ponder his question for a heartbeat. Now that he'd asked, did she want to marry him? Become his wife and move to America? At the beginning of the Season nothing more exciting existed in her world, but now, another occupied far too much of her thoughts.

Lord blasted Tyndall…

"May I have a day or two to consider your question, Mr. Venzellons?"

"Oh, please, call me Roger. I do not wish to be so formal with you. In fact…" He spun her to the side of the room, and before Genevieve could say nary a word, he had her in the entrance foyer of the house. "Now, shall we go for a little stroll and get to know each other a little better? Doing so may help you in your decision to become my wife."

She glanced back into the ballroom and noted that no one was watching what she was doing. She would court scandal if she went with Mr. Venzellons, even though he could possibly be her husband very soon.

"I do not think that is wise. It would be best to remain in the ballroom and perhaps dance more."

"Oh no, I've danced enough for one night. I wish to have time alone with you." He walked them along the corridor, past the servants' door to the kitchen downstairs. His arm linked with hers was like a snare.

"I've admired you for a long time, Genevieve, and have often fantasized about kissing your sweet lips."

"My lips?" Genevieve swallowed. While Mr. Venzellons was handsome, she couldn't kiss him even if she'd teased Tyndall about doing so. He'd definitely expect her to marry him then, and maybe he would use their familiarity and force her to wed him.

"We should return, Mr. Venzellons."

He pulled her into a room and closed the door. "No, my sweet. I think it's time for us to become better acquainted. A kiss will do perfectly well. I want to persuade you to marry me if you're in any way doubting your choice."

She was doubting her choice. What was wrong with the man, being so bold? Not to mention taking her to a secluded part of the house. Perhaps all her teasing and games were not her best choice, but how to get out of the hazard she was in?

"This is unacceptable, Mr. Venzellons, and you know it is. I ask that you escort me back to the ball before trouble ensues."

"Dearest." He cradled her face, walking her back until her bottom hit the chaise lounge. "Do not play hard to catch now. We're alone and possibly engaged within a few hours. I think the least you could do is kiss me. I will not tell anyone, not even if you do decide against being my wife."

"No, I do not wish to kiss you. I think I must get to know you better before I do such a thing."

"Do not play these games with me. I know you're interested or you would not have allowed me to pursue you these past weeks. Now, kiss me."

He closed the space between them and kissed her. Genevieve gasped, pressed against his chest, but he would not move. He was like a rock that refused to roll away.

"Mr. Venzellons, stop," she managed to mumble between his forceful kisses. "Stop. I do not want this."

"Of course you want this. Come, kiss me harder." His mouth moved on hers in a punishing way, forcefully taking her mouth to the point of pain.

Genevieve managed to push him away and run for the door, but he caught her voluminous skirt and yanked her to a stop. Her feet slid out from underneath her, and she fell, hitting her mouth on the wood floor.

Pain shot through her teeth and lips, and the taste of blood exploded in her mouth. Panic followed, and Genevieve froze when cool air kissed the backs of her legs.

"Stop. Mr. Venzellons. Stop, please stop."

He did not listen and continued hoisting up her dress.

"Come, my sweet wife-to-be. You'll be mine after tonight, whether you want to be or not."

"No. Stop." Genevieve fought to get up, but he pushed her down, his hand pinning against the back of her neck, squashing her face into the floor.

Tears blurred her vision. This could not be happening to her. How could he do such a cruel, uninvited thing to her person?

"What the fuck is going on in here?"

Beckett's deadly tone boomed through the room, and Mr. Venzellons's weight lifted from her as if he were never there.