Page 40 of The Duke’s Return (Dukes of the Compass Rose #2)

G enevieve 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 perfect union. 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 much happening 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?”

Genevieve froze.

So we are leaving. He should have told me.

Oh there is much to do. I’ll need to alert everyone about the invitations that need to be canceled, tell the vicar I cannot visit him on the morrow.

I haven’t even begun to pack. And Elodie wanted more time to explore the village which I haven’t given her. Why couldn’t he tell me sooner?

Nodding, the butler tucked his little booklet away as he often liked to take notes. “Certainly, Your Grace. And the duchess will follow behind?”

That made her pause.

“At her leisure, of course. I believe she wishes to enjoy some more time out here before joining me in London. She will be able to take the other carriage as needed.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

On the directions went as Julian instructed the butler, and then a footman, about what needed to be done. He apparently wished to have everything taken. Everything except for her and his horse. The creature deserved more space to enjoy, he claimed.

Because you’re not going to be there in London long, are you?

A shaky breath escaped Genevieve. She clapped a hand over her mouth and resisted yet again the urge to cry. The man didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve anything for the way he so quickly brushed her off.

It was the ease of it, I think, that hurt the most. How can he just walk away and pretend all is well? He cannot even talk to me, cannot look me in the eye. I invited him for a peaceable super last night and he never gave a response––only told the staff he would take a tray.

How nauseating this was, Genevieve thought to herself, that the man refused to face her. He really was a coward. She had hoped that he could be more than his past self, but he was determined to be his worst form.

I cannot take it. I won’t let him slip away without… without saying something!

When Julian finally stepped away from the servants and started off to his bed chamber, she hastily followed behind. She took through the halls quietly as she padded after him in her slippers. It was only once they were in the hall by their rooms, where no one else lingered, that she called out.

“Julian!”

He jerked, wavered, and then whirled around.

The man was leaving her yet again. They had done this before, Genevieve considered, but they had been complete strangers at the time. Nothing had ever happened between them. There had only been one conversation between them.

This was entirely different. He was running away from her, and she wouldn’t let him do it without seeing her one last time.

She stalked forward with her shoulders back and her chin held up high. There would be no crying in front of him, never letting him know how much he had already hurt her.

If he wants to put up walls, then I can do the same.

“How dare you?” she snarled as she came up to him.

“Hush,” he said in reply with a quick glance around them. “The household––”

“Is not close enough to hear us speak,” she hissed. She kept her voice low but clear enough he could hear her. Seething, Genevieve did her best to retain her calm. “I see what you are doing. And yet I can hardly believe it of you.”

He furrowed his brow. “I’m not doing anything out of the ordinary.”

“Of course you aren’t. This is what you do. You came back to London. You played your part––the part everyone wanted to see. You salvaged your name. You brokered your deals. And now you’ll disappear again, won’t you? Always pretending that everything is as it should be.”

He gritted his teeth. “Isn’t it?”

“Is it?” she challenged him back. “Is it really? You’ll take off and pretend none of this happened. That we never happened. That we never meant anything at all.”

Those beautiful blue eyes froze over so quickly she felt a shiver run up her spine. She remembered then how she had hated him before. How she wanted to hate him now.

Julian said, “You’re cleverer than this, Duchess. We made a deal.”

He wouldn’t say her name, she realized suddenly, and felt a loss that created such emptiness in her so quickly that she felt her body shrinking. Her shoulders slouched. She swallowed hard and tried to pull herself together. She tried to remember rage.

“Things change,” Genevieve told him. “They can change. If only you will stop being a coward and––”

“The deal is over,” Julian cut in curtly.

If she reached out to him now, her fingertips would surely brush against his waistcoat. But she didn’t dare. The man’s aloof manner created such distance between them that she felt like it might take a thousand miles to reach him again.

But even that might not be enough. It might take a thousand years. The man has locked himself away. But I know him. I know his vulnerability, I know he is afraid. Why can’t he let go of that? Why am I not enough for him to be brave? I cannot stand it. I cannot bear him.

“I’m done playing,” she told him.

“Good,” he said before turning on his heel and taking his leave.

The door closed right behind him as he disappeared into his bed chamber, leaving Genevieve standing there alone. She squished down the pain and hurt. She closed up the feelings and desires, hopefully for good. They weren’t helping at this time.

It was best, she decided, to take control of what she could.

Knowing she could do nothing about the duke, Genevieve considered her options. She had meant it went she was done playing. Even though Julian would surely think he had had a final word, she wasn’t done.

He cannot keep treating me thus. If I must remove myself entirely from his life, then so be it. Anything to avoid this agony a second time.

Hastily taking to her own rooms, she rung the bell pull and moved about her bed chamber until Elodie made her arrival. By then, the room was half torn apart with everything out.

“Oh goodness,” her maid breathed in astonishment. “What is it, Your Grace? Is something lost? How can I help?”

Genevieve sucked in a deep breath as she came to stand still for only enough time to announce, “We are taking our leave at daylight on the morrow. Help me pack.”

I won’t let him leave me again. It’s my turn.