am not his mistress!’ Genevieve’s eyes glowed a fiery blue in warning.
‘Yet,’ William bit out harshly. ‘And it is my intention that he never will be.’
‘And what business is it of yours, sir?’
‘For better or worse, you are my father’s widow.’ Those pale grey eyes raked over her with dislike. ‘And tomorrow morning will see the announcement of my betrothal to the Earl of Ramsey’s only daughter, the wedding to take place next month. A marriage which will be beneficial to both our families.’
‘Perhaps it behoves someone to warn that poor girl of exactly what sort of family she is marrying into—Take your hands off me!’ Genevieve gave a pained gasp as William moved to take a tight grip of one of her wrists before twisting her arm painfully behind her back, causing her to arch her back in an effort not to allow their bodies to come into any sort of contact.
‘I have no intention of releasing you until I consider this conversation to have been settled to my satisfaction.’ William thrust his face very close to her own, the warmth of his breath brushing against Genevieve’s throat, and causing her to quiver with revulsion.
‘What do you want from me?’ she gasped softly.
‘Ramsey is … something of a prude, and as such I do not believe he would appreciate it if my father’s widow, the woman who was my stepmother, and is now the Dowager Duchess of Woollerton, were to become involved in a sordid affair with the man the ton calls Lucifer. Therefore, I advise that you cease your relationship with him before such a possibility occurs.’
‘It is not for you to dictate to me whom I should or should not take as my friends,’ Genevieve refused determinedly.
‘I thought you might say that.’ William sneered at her bravery. ‘But you may rest assured, Genevieve, that if in the next month you should do or behave in such a way which might interfere with my own marriage plans, then I will personally make sure that you regret that behaviour. Am I making myself clear?’ His voice was as hard with cruelty as his father’s had always been.
‘God, how I hate you!’ Genevieve choked, wishing this conversation over, most of all wishing this man’s presence gone from her home, and the memories he had brought with him. Memories of her wedding night, followed by Josiah’s numerous cruelties to her. Of the times she had tried to escape him by running away, only to be brought back and beaten by the very same man who now twisted her arm so painfully.
‘The feeling is mutual, I assure you,’ William sneered. ‘Nevertheless, you will do as I say and immediately break off this scandalous friendship with Lucifer.’ He gave her arm another vicious twist before pushing her roughly away from him, studiously straightening the leather riding gloves he wore as Genevieve stumbled to regain her balance at the same time as she clutched her bruised arm.
How Genevieve hated this man and his father for what they had both done to her. For what William was still trying to do to her.
And she hated him even more for his confidence that she would again do as he had instructed.
‘Leave,’ she managed to choke out.
‘I will go when I am good and ready.’
‘You will get out of my house now!’ She refused to so much as sway on her feet until after William, with one last mocking smile in her direction, strode confidently from her salon and her home.
At which time Genevieve’s legs would no longer support her and she fell down on to the carpet, her wrist and arm hurting so badly that she sobbed tears of pain and humiliation, knowing that the peace she had acquired this past year, her belief that she was finally rid of Josiah, and his equally as cruel and unpleasant son, was completely shattered.
Chapter Four
‘… and Sheffield had only been gone but a few minutes when Lord Daniel Robson arrived in company with Billy Summersby. They are both of them so very sweet. And the Earl of Suffolk, a gentleman who has never paid me the slightest attention before now, also presented his card and expressed a wish to take me riding with him in the park early tomorrow morning. It is all your doing, of course, Benedict, because none of those gentlemen had given me so much as a second glance before your own noticeable attentions to me yesterday evening.’
Benedict had been listening to Genevieve prattle on like this for almost the past hour: as soon as she had greeted him in her gold salon, for the whole of the carriage ride from her home, and during this boat ride across the Thames to Vauxhall Gardens. All of it nonsense, and not at all what he had come to expect from her. Indeed, it was the fact that Benedict never knew quite what to expect when in Genevieve’s company which had given rise to his feelings of anticipation of their meeting this evening. Only to have those feelings dissipate when she immediately began to rattle on like this the moment they were alone together.
‘Genevieve …’
‘—I really should thank you—’
‘Genevieve.’
‘—for my current popularity with so many fashionable gentlemen of the ton—’
‘Genevieve!’
Her chatter ceased, as she instead looked up at Benedict in the moonlight through the two slits for her eyes in the golden mask she wore over the top half of her face. She wore an evening cloak about her shoulders which prevented him from seeing the gown she wore. ‘I am sure I was only—’
‘I am well aware that you have “only” chattered incessantly this past hour, so much so that I could not get a word in edgewise,’ Benedict drawled his impatience. ‘And I am curious to know the reason for it.’
She blinked. ‘I thought to amuse you with news of my gentlemen callers today …’
‘You thought no such thing.’ Indeed, Benedict had found himself becoming less and less amused the more he heard of the visits of Genevieve’s many admirers. ‘What else has happened today that could have turned you into such an empty-headed ninny?’ he prompted shrewdly.
Genevieve would have taken exception to such a description if she had not known it was perfectly justified; she was prattling on like so many of those empty-headed ninnies in society that she most despised. Her only excuse was that she was not fully recovered from William Forster’s visit to her this afternoon. Or the threats he had made to her.
So much so that she also inwardly trembled at her own daring in keeping to her original arrangement to go to Vauxhall Gardens with Benedict this evening.
Her initial instinct had been to do as William had asked—demanded!—by sending her apologies to Benedict, but she had thought better of it almost immediately and refused to continue to be bullied by such a hateful man as William Forster. Her rebellion had been helped by the fact that she and Benedict would both be wearing masks, so that no one could say for sure whether or not it was the two of them at Vauxhall Gardens!
Truth be told, Genevieve was also loathe to give up the idea of spending time in Benedict’s company, despite the risk of incurring even more of William’s displeasure.
But there was no doubting that her enjoyment of an evening spent in the company of the most eligible and sought-after
