Page 29 of The Duke’s Return (Dukes of the Compass Rose #2)

“ M rs. Waverly, if I were to strangle somebody, do you think I would be hung in turn?” Genevieve asked when the housekeeper paused in the doorway of the drawing room to see what she was doing.

It wasn’t as though she was doing very much.

The drawing room was just ideal for pacing.

There were three short paths to take through the room, all surrounded by soft furniture that could be tossed about without breaking anything.

Additionally, it was on the shaded portion of the house where the lighting was softer, and the household was less likely to be worried about her upsetting any of the furniture.

Tilting her head to study her, the housekeeper responded in a mild tone, “I cannot imagine it would go well. Still, one never knows. Should I be asking if there’s a particular room that needs cleaning, Your Grace?”

There was a gentle scolding in that tone that Genevieve could hear. Her heavy pacing slowed down from a stomp as she caught her breath. Perhaps she should have gone outside after all, but the drizzle wasn’t to her liking at the moment.

How can I say such things? Just after she’s complimented me dearly in front of our guest, she has to deal with a murderous duchess. Oh, I am losing myself.

She forced a deep breath and set down the round pillow she’d been squeezing in her hands. “No cleaning. I’m afraid I’m merely… a little overwhelmed.”

“Yes, husbands can have that effect on women.”

Seeing the housekeeper’s flat expression suddenly reminded Genevieve that she was supposed to be proving a strong and committed relationship to her husband, not the opposite.

The blood drained from her face. Heart pounding now for another reason, she slumped onto the nearest sofa and dropped her face in her hands.

“Don’t mind me; I must not be myself today,” she muttered. She couldn’t look anyone in the eye saying this. “I care for the duke. He is my husband. We are…” But the words wouldn’t come to her.

Quiet footsteps crossed the room. “Never you mind that, Your Grace. No matter the title or not, men have always been fools. It’s the women that keep the world running in nearly every form.

And what is love without a few complications?

If I didn’t see the two of you disagreeing at some point, I might not be convinced you truly cared for one another. ”

Jerking her head up, Genevieve stared at her. “You trust our relationship because I’m upset right now? But what if he’s right?”

“Oh, he isn’t,” Mrs. Waverly replied with a knowing gaze.

“I meant what I said earlier. You’re a very fine lady, Your Grace, and the household trusts you.

Accomplishing that in less than a month is no small feat.

His Grace was more than fortunate to have your hand.

But it doesn’t always mean he deserves it. ”

The words slowly settled on Genevieve’s shoulders. She compared this to her mother’s words of wisdom, how she had always taught her four daughters to behave with smiles to the world and to scheme once the backs were turned.

It had taken all of Genevieve’s strength not to follow that path. Except part of her had always been fearful that some of the truth was there, that all a woman could do was obey and accept what she was given.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked quietly, realizing only afterward she couldn’t very well be asking a servant such a heavy question.

Yet Mrs. Waverly had an answer. “When the world tells you a lie, Your Grace, I suggest you correct them. That way, it doesn’t happen again.” Then she offered a wink, straightened her shoulders, and quietly took her leave with a promise to prepare afternoon tea soon.

Once again alone, Genevieve let the woman’s words sit with her for a while. She remained seated for some time to let the ideas flow through and to let her body relax.

It was all she could do to get the memory out of her mind.

He’s been coarse before, and dismissive. But never so cold. Never so rude. Simply because I brought a tray into the room, he treated me like a servant. Worse than a servant, for I have never seen him be cruel to them.

After collecting her thoughts and patiently biding her time through quiet afternoon tea by herself, Genevieve was resolved. This behavior would not be permitted. Especially if her husband wanted her support in managing their family name, then he would have to ensure this never happened again.

Though she practiced her words during tea, she forgot them all within the next hour when she searched about the house for him.

It took some time until she was forced out into the gardens to find Julian seated near the climbing roses as he had picked a fresh bud and toyed with it in his hands. She stopped to stare.

The duke appeared so young with his golden hair curly in the afternoon lighting. It was growing long, but she rather liked that. He was always so very refined and well-dressed, and there was that lovely hair growing out of control.

If she wasn’t careful, Genevieve realized, her thoughts might go out of control as well. Lately it was too easy to lose herself at the sight of him with his charming looks. She had to be more careful.

At least we are alone where no one can find us. But I cannot dawdle forever. Just because he woolgathers doesn’t mean this isn’t an ideal place for us to have a private conversation.

Inhaling sharply, she gathered her rage, set aside thoughts of the handsome man, and stormed forward.

“Julian.”

He nearly dropped the rosebud. Fumbling for it, her husband blinked and hastily rose to his feet as she arrived before him. “Genevieve.”

She wished she had never given him leave to use her name. Or had she? Perhaps he decided to claim it like he claimed everything else.

“How dare you?” Genevieve said and batted away the rosebud from his grasp even as she internally murmured it an apology. “The way you treated me in front of Lord Northcott today was entirely unwarranted, cruel even, and hardly fitting behavior for a duke.”

Apprehension crossed over the man, tightening his features. She watched him swallow as the movement disappeared behind his neatly tied cravat. The gem was new. He must have added that later. But it was crooked. Her hands itched to fix it, but she merely glared instead with her chin raised.

“You entered my study––” he drew out slowly.

“To be of assistance and to have your ear on a matter that would have taken not a minute of your terribly valuable time,” she snapped, not willing to amuse him.

Straightening up, she went on. “You can treat me as coldly as you like when the mood strikes. I do not care. But your lack of manners and harsh dismissal were hardly fitting behaviors for a gentleman.”

A heavy sigh escaped him.

Still, Genevieve carried on. Her hands balled into fists as she glowered, “Mind you, this is the least of our concerns. I’ve tolerated awful manners across all of England with you.

You flirt and charm your way across the ballroom, and I say nothing.

This is a farce of a marriage, we both know it, and I don’t care what you do in your own time. ”

“You don’t?”

“But I will. Not. Be. Humiliated,” she announced.

His face tightened again from his open gaze and he glanced away. Was that guilt in his eyes? Genevieve hesitated as she took in a deep breath, waiting for him to argue or attempt to flirt his way out of this. But he didn’t.

Perhaps he does know he made a mistake. Or is he merely pretending?

“I did nothing to deserve that behavior and a wife should never be treated as foully as you did me,” she added in a low tone. “You treated me like I was the scum of your shoe, Julian. It isn’t right.”

“No, it’s not.”

She heatedly added, “I mean it, I won’t let you do it again. I don’t care if I have to claw your face or break your porcelain to make you hear me.”

“I do hear you.”

“Because I will not––what did you say?” Genevieve came to an halting stop, rocking on her heels. She blinked at the duke who had dropped his head low enough that the curls hid much of his expression. An uncertain feeling washed over her as she wondered if he was mocking her.

Except Julian lifted his chin—not entirely, but enough to meet her gaze––and she didn’t see laughter there for once.

His lips pursed tightly. He looked at her for a long minute and then glanced away, almost turning his body like he wished to take his leave of her. Though she braced herself for him to walk away, it didn’t happen. Julian let out a heavy breath that ruffled her hair, which made it tickle her cheeks.

“You’re right, Genevieve,” Julian said quietly a moment later, with what could only be described as a contrite expression. “My behavior was abominable. You had done nothing to warrant such behavior from me; I shall endeavor to improve upon myself better humors.”

Warily glancing around, Genevieve wondered if someone was close by with whom her husband wanted to have heard this message. Only he whispered the words in a low tone and there was no one about. She was surely the only one to hear these words.

“I apologize dearly for my behavior, my dear.” He paused and then brought out a letter from his pocket. It was the invitation for the charity soiree. “You wished to talk about this, I believe, and I should like to make it up to you.”

“Do you really?” She felt compelled to ask.

“The carriages will be brought around in two hours’ time for us.

I would be thrilled if you would permit me to escort you to the event this evening, where you may use all the money you like for whatever charity this might be for,” he announced.

By the time he finished speaking, there was half a smile on her lips.

There’s Julian. I might hardly know him if there is no smile. How strange. And how much better it feels when he smiles my way.

She bit her lip. “You will behave yourself?”

“I shall behave in the most important way and misbehave in the best way,” Julian said after a pause. “Would that suffice?”