Page 39 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess
She was a wild card, unpredictable and dangerous, and he, for the first time in a long time, felt a thrill of…anticipation.
Rosaline smiled sweetly, her eyes gleaming with playful defiance. “Of course, Your Grace,” she replied, the words light yet edged with a hint of rebellion. “Though I must confess, I find the prospect of rigid decorum rather stifling.”
“Stifling, Duchess?” he countered, a slow smile curving his lips. “Perhaps you find the rules of this household unduly restrictive.”
“Perhaps,” she admitted, her gaze unwavering. “Though I must say, the view from this window is quite…invigorating.”
Adam followed her gaze to the expansive view of his estate. “Indeed,” he conceded, his voice a low rumble. “The view is…quite impressive.”
He turned back to her, his eyes lingering on her face, taking in the delicate curve of her cheek, the defiant tilt of her chin. He felt a sudden, unexpected surge of desire, a primal longing that startled him.
He had always been a man of control, his emotions carefully guarded, yet this woman…she seemed to have the power to shatter his composure.
“I daresay,” Rosaline remarked, her voice laced with amusement, “that the view is far more captivating than the company within.”
Adam, taken aback by her audacity, found himself laughing, a low, rumbling sound that surprised even himself.
“Such a harsh assessment, Duchess,” he countered, feigning offense. “Though I must admit, you do possess a certain vivacity that makes this room considerably more interesting.”
Rosaline raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her gaze. “Do I now, Duke? Or perhaps you find me a tad too disruptive?”
“Disruptive?” Adam mused, a mischievous glint entering his own eyes. “Perhaps a touch. But far more entertaining than the usual dull discourse on the weather and the price of hay.”
Mr. Finch, caught in the crossfire of their playful banter, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His eyes darted between the dukeand the duchess, unsure of how he should proceed. This was certainly not the decorum he had envisioned.
Adam, observing Finch’s discomfort, felt a strange sense of satisfaction. Let the man squirm. He turned back to Rosaline, a slow smile playing on his lips.
“I believe, Duchess,” he said, his voice a low growl, “that we may have much to learn from each other.”
Rosaline, her eyes sparkling with amusement, leaned forward, her voice barely a whisper. “I believe you are correct, Duke. I believe we may indeed.”
The ensuing banter between the two of them grew increasingly tense. For a moment, Adam felt a strange discomfort, but it was quickly overtaken by an odd exhilaration. There was something about the challenge of sparring with Rosaline that stirred him.
Finally, the duke, his patience wearing thin, growled, “we shall visit these disgruntled tenants after the Lockwoods’ dinner party. I have already endured enough social pleasantries this week.”
He rose from his chair, his back straight, an aura of finality hanging in the air.
With a curt nod, he dismissed both his wife and Mr. Finch.
Chapter Fourteen
Two days later, Rosaline found herself standing before the grand doors of the Lockwood estate, her arm tucked into Adam’s.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured as the butler swung the doors open.
“No, I’m not,” she replied, though her fingers curled tighter around his sleeve.
He arched a brow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Very well. Shall I blame the wind, then?”
She didn’t have time to retort. As they stepped inside, all eyes turned to them. The low hum of conversation faltered, replaced by whispers and sharp, appraising glances.
Rosaline’s pulse quickened. She felt the weight of the stares, the disapproval cloaked in faux curiosity. This was her first publicappearance since their wedding, and Rosaline had made a bold choice with her scars—once veiled by gloves—now bare for all to see.
“Duchess,” Adam said, his voice calm and commanding, “forget about them. They do not deserve to occupy your mind.”
“Do you think that is so simple?” she asked through clenched teeth, her tone light but her nerves evident.
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Smile. And remember—if anyone dares insult you, they will answer to me.”
