Page 87 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess
“Your Grace?”
Rosaline gasped, spinning in place to find her maid behind her, the young girl’s eyes fixed on the floor as usual, her face set in a deep frown.
“Can I assist you?” she asked.
“I am leaving,” Rosaline stated flatly, the pain and anger swirling within her felt all-consuming. “I am sure the whole household will be glad of my absence. Please pack what clothing I will need for a journey to the country. I shall see to the rest myself.”
The maid nodded and began to bustle around the room gathering various items that Rosaline would need.
She walked to her dressing table and selected a few of her mother’s jewels to take.
The duke had gifted her with many beautiful items of jewelry, but she would not touch them.
A prop of a wife does not need gifts or trinkets, after all.
“Here, Your Grace,” came the soft voice from beside her.
In a matter of minutes, her maid had gathered what she would need and folded everything neatly and practically in the bag. Rosaline looked down at it and nodded once, waiting for the girl to place it on the floor and scurry away.
Instead she kept her arm out, holding the bag for Rosaline to take. Usually any servant avoided coming into contact with Rosaline’s skin, but this girl did not retreat.
After a charged moment, Rosaline placed her scarred hand beside the maid’s and lowered the bag slowly to her side.
Their eyes connected as the young girl gave her a faint smile.
“I will be sorry to see you go, Your Grace,” she said quietly. “You have been very kind to me since you came.”
Then, without another word, she walked to the door, leaving Rosaline standing silently beside her dressing table, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
Of all the times to find I had an ally in this house, it is the hour in which I must leave it.
She gripped the handle of the bag more tightly and as the girl was about to leave the room she called out to her.
“Summon the carriage, please, I will be traveling to Ravenshire as soon as possible.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Rosaline collected herself, wondering whether Adam would even care that she was gone, but when she left her room it became clear that leaving would be more complicated than she imagined.
Adam stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching her with a dark, brooding gaze that set her blood aflame with want.
It is not real. Lust does not make a marriage.
“And where do you think you are going?” he asked, as she stopped a few steps before she reached him.
She could hear the shouts of the servants below stairs and the snort of the horses as the carriage was prepared.
“Your cursed wife is going to stay with her cursed cousin. I am sure it will be of no matter to you, considering that you have beeninconveniencedmany times in your life to date.”
She walked to the bottom of the steps even as his hand stretched out and gripped her upper arm painfully tight.
She winced and Adam loosened his hold.
When she looked up at him, his expression was almost imploring.
“Rosaline, you cannot seriously be suggesting that you leave in the dead of night.”
“I will send word to Genevieve.”
