Page 63 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess
Chapter Twenty
“Five minutes,” Adam said once the music had faded.
The laughter that had once filled the room now subsided into a murmured conversation, the murmur of polite discourse that often lingered after such a grand affair.
Adam guided her away from the dance floor and just as he was about to walk off, he was stopped.
Lord and Lady Claridge approached them. Their faces were plastered with strained smiles, as though rehearsing the performance of civility.
“A most delightful evening, Duchess,” Lady Claridge purred. Her words sounded like flattery, but Rosaline could tell it was merely an obligation—a duty to make nice with the duke’s wife.
Lady Claridge’s eyes lingered a moment longer than usual, a disconcerting intensity in her gaze that made Rosaline uncomfortable.
“The music, the dancing…simply exquisite,” Lady Claridge continued, though Rosaline could hear the faintest hint of condescension in her voice.
Rosaline forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “The entertainment was indeed splendid, Aunt Evelyn.”
Lord Claridge turned his attention to Adam. His voice was loud and jovial, an almost practiced volume that grated on Rosaline’s nerves. “And Your Grace, I trust you enjoyed yourself?”
Adam’s eyes, cold and distant, flickered toward Lord Claridge before he gave a curt nod.
“A satisfactory evening.” His tone was clipped, and there was a certain hardness in his gaze that Rosaline recognized immediately—he was not in the mood for small talk.
He was, however, always in control.
He wears control like a second skin,Rosaline thought.I envy that.
“I would say so myself, Your Grace. Some improvements could be made on the orchestra and the wine served, but alas, I am not one to place judgement,” Lord Claridge went on. “You know, Iwas quite looking forward to meeting Lord Finch. I have a rather intriguing shipping proposal to make him.”
The conversation devolved into meaningless politeness, but she could see Adam’s jaw tighten.
Lord Claridge never knew when to stop and it was clear that Adam had reached his breaking point. The duke was a man of few words, but when he did speak, it was sharp and to the point.
After a solid minute of rambling, Lord Claridge chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “I was hoping to have a word with you, Duke, about a matter of considerable importance.”
Adam’s posture stiffened, his body language rigid.
This is not the time, Claridge,he seemed to say with his silence, though Rosaline knew better than to interpret the icy look he shot at the man.
She felt a fleeting sense of frustration at her own helplessness—what could she do to stop these tiresome men from their endless politicking?
“I understand Mr. Finch is a business associate of yours, is he not?” Lord Claridge asked, his eyes glinting with a purpose Rosaline couldn’t decipher.
She glanced at Adam, and her stomach fluttered as she noticed how his expression darkened even further. He was about tolose his temper, and she couldn’t blame him. These were the moments that reminded her of how little she understood her new husband—so commanding, so powerful, yet utterly unreadable.
Adam’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Mr. Finch is a valued associate.” The duke’s words were a warning, but Claridge didn’t heed it.
Instead, he pressed on, “Well, I would love to meet him, like I said. Perhaps you could introduce us, Your Grace?”
The duke clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, and Rosaline’s gaze softened with concern, though she remained outwardly composed. She could feel the tension radiating off of him.
Adam’s response was only two measured words, but his body was vibrating with restrained anger.
“Not tonight.”
Rosaline noticed how Adam’s eyes darted to her, a subtle flicker of apology passing through his gaze. His frustration was obvious, but he had the grace to acknowledge it with a quiet glance.
She smiled faintly, her hand brushing against his arm in silent support.
