Page 78 of The Duke's Return
Her hands balled into fists like she wished to punch him. Part of Julian wished she would.
Instead, she walked away.
Left in the foyer, Julian sucked in a deep breath and turned away. Catching sight of himself in a mirror, he flinched and dropped his gaze. It wasn’t right, he knew, but it was what had to be done.
We would have despised each other soon enough. I’m only saving her heartache. Besides, I’ll be gone soon. Then it will be like none of this ever happened.
CHAPTER 30
Genevieve hardly slept that night, trembling with fury. She paced for two hours before her maid returned to convince her to take to her bed.
That did little good. The night was spent tossing and turning as she replayed the evening over and over through her mind. Everything had gone so well. Her lips tingled from their kiss. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him.
I hate him. I hate him more than I have ever thought to hate someone.
She didn’t believe a word he had said to her. At least, she didn’t want to. But the man refused to give her anything else to believe. Whatever had been real between them, what they had been so close to having in their hands together, was gone. He had snapped it in two with ease right in front of her.
“Oh dear, you just missed him,” Mrs. Waverly noted the next evening. “His Grace had to address some business and had to request a supper tray.”
None of the household had been there to hear what had transpired, and she supposed she was grateful for that.
“How disappointing. I’ll enjoy supper here on my own, that’s all right.”
The housekeeper nodded. “Did you enjoy your stroll with His Grace today? During his ride?”
Genevieve managed to swallow the scream that nearly erupted through her. “Indeed. He is terribly busy, but I savor every moment I can have with the duke.”
And that was how the final five days of their month together at Southwick took place. Morning cards were sent up to her with a fresh flower––they were merely notes dictating his busy schedule but the household seemed to think he was doting on her––and there were other passing white lies that took place as well.
Perhaps I am supposed to be making my own, but I cannot bear it. This house has grown so stifling. I don’t know where he is and I don’t think I can bear to see him again.
Fortunately, her mornings and afternoons were fairly consumed by their guests. Everyone called on them. Through her daily guests, Genevieve learned that the family name had indeed been restored.
Several clippings of papers from London proved there was positive mention of them. She received word in one of Julian’s letters that his deal had gone through, and the inquiry into his abilities was closed down.
Through her visits to the village, she learned everyone adored whatever love story was being told about them. It was a perfectunion. She had even received a letter from their solicitor that her pin money was doubled. That was one letter she had ripped up and burned in distaste.
“You must be so happy,” everyone told her.
On the final day, Genevieve finished her visit to the village, having wanted to let them know she would be leaving soon. Perhaps she could return again on her own. There was no telling what would happen.
I just want to get back to London.
And yet Julian hadn’t told her when they were returning to London. For three days, she’d sent him small letters herself with only one question. When would they be returning?
Even if we must travel together, I don’t care. I need to know when he is gone. I need to get that kiss out of my head. His glances and his touches… I cannot be around him for much longer. To simply be under the same roof is just too much. It hurts.
But Julian hadn’t replied to her letters. Not in the moment and not in his later correspondence. The household was cheerfully deceived all while Genevieve felt lonelier every passing day.
She returned inside to the back hall where she hung her scarf and cloak since it had been a blustery stroll. Cleaning off the boots, she switched to house slippers. She was torn between venturing to her bed chamber for a bath or to the kitchens for a small meal when she heard voices down the main hall.
It was Julian, laughing.
“I wish I had the time for Tattersall’s,” he was saying when she crept closer to see him with the butler. “But there is muchhappening that requires my attention. If I go, I will certainly let you know about the races.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll make the time, Your Grace.”
“We shall see. I must arrive in London before that happens, of course. Already I am expected. Do you think we can have everything packed and ready to go in two days’ time?”
