Page 109 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess
“I think sometimes it is pleasant to know that a man admires you. Henry looks happy with her. Although his dancing leaves much to be desired.”
“Yes, what is he doing with his arm?”
“I know not. Perhaps you should give him some lessons.”
“I think you would be a more suitable partner for him. If I danced with him, we would both try to lead.”
“You would not mind seeing me in the arms of another?” she asked playfully and watched Adam’s knuckles turn white around the stem of his glass.
“On second thought, hang his technique, it does not look as though Lady Esther minds it.”
Rosaline snorted and leaned in closer to him as their bodies brushed against one another.
Genevieve and Wilhelm were standing on the other side of the room, chatting happily behind the dancers.
Genevieve had now met Adam several times since the infamous occasion he had stormed into Ravenshire, and Rosaline was pleased to see her cousin warming to him—although it would take some time for her to really like him.
She wondered when Sophia would get the chance.
Perhaps one day she will return from Scotland.
Adam could still be austere and cold, stubborn to a fault and irritable. But he treated Rosaline with such care and attention that there were no longer any rumors about the haste of their marriage, or about her curse.
Society knew that the duke was in love, and it was the only gossip Rosaline would happily entertain.
Phineas sidled up beside her, bowing gracefully, sipping his champagne and eyeing the dance floor.
“Your Grace,” he said reverently. “Henry has lost his heart, it would seem.”
Rosaline ignored Adam’s snort from beside her and grinned at Phineas. “Isn’t it romantic?”
“I am glad of it. That boy needs a woman in his life.”
“And you, my lord?” Rosaline asked. “What of your heart?”
Phineas’ cheeks pinked a little as he glanced to the side of the room where Lady Cynthia Westbury was standing beside her mother. She was elegant and beautiful and much sought after, but Rosaline had noticed Phineas admiring her many times.
“I see you miss nothing, Duchess, I commend you for your observation skills. How you ever won Oldstone’s heart is beyond me; you are far too clever for him.”
Rosaline glanced at Adam, who looked down at her with an expression of such heat that she swallowed and had to look away.
“Has there been any more news of Lord Claridge?” Phineas asked, and the warmth in Adam’s eyes faded instantly.
“Enough,” Adam muttered, keeping his voice low. “The witnesses at the inn all made their statements. It was simply luck that the rooms at the back of the establishment were not occupied—had they been, Claridge would have killed many other innocents that night.”
Adam swirled his glass, the same aura of satisfaction coming off him in waves.
“He is to hang. The trial was unanimous on that account.”
Phineas nodded, any sympathy or pity quite absent from his face.
“I am pleased to hear it. That man would destroy us all if he could gain something by it. He has received the sentence befitting his actions. And what of your aunt?” Phineas said, turning to Rosaline curiously.
“She has fled the country. The last I heard, she was headed for the Americas.”
“Excellent, I shall drink to the absence of them both, then,” Phineas said cheerfully, draining his glass. “Now if you will excuse me, I have a lady to court.”
And he headed through the crowds toward Lady Westbury, who blushed prettily as he bowed and offered her his hand.
