Page 36 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess
“I have spent my fair share of time convalescing and healing,” she snapped, her spine straightening, as though that simple fact alone made her stronger.
Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest, and for the briefest moment, she feared he would see the scars peeking from her sleeves again and recoil.
Adam’s gaze flickered downward, briefly settling on her arms. For a fraction of a second, he flinched, looking away.
“How have you injured yourself?” she asked, her voice steady despite the tremor of excitement running through her veins.
Adam grunted, still avoiding her gaze. He was resisting, but she would not relent.
Rosaline stepped closer, her breath steadying, her confidence growing with each step.
“If you will not answer, I will find someone else who can tell me. You know as well as I do that there are no true secrets in this ton, and I would prefer the truth from your lips.”
The challenge was out there now.
He will not like this,she thought, but the words were already out.
Adam barked a harsh, humorless laugh.
“Secrets, indeed.” His gaze locked with hers, prideful disdain darkening his expression.
She stood her ground, eyes unwavering. “Secrets are no small matter.”
He paused, and for so long, Rosaline wondered if he would remain silent forever. Finally, Adam spoke again, his voice quieter now, tinged with a rawness she had not expected.
“It is an old injury.” He hesitated again. “There was a fire, many years ago.”
Rosaline stared at him evenly, her heart racing. Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees beside his chair, her gaze not leaving his. She reached for the tonic, studying it, her fingers brushing the cool glass.
“I understand,” she sighed, her voice soft but steady, her heart pounding as if it might break free from her chest. “I understand how carrying the pain can feel like honoring the memory of what was lost.”
Adam’s eyes widened in surprise. His mouth parted as though he was about to say something but then he stopped, clearly at a loss for words.
“That is—that is very astute of you, Rosaline.” His voice softened, a flicker of something akin to admiration passing over his features, reigniting the fluttering in Rosaline’s chest, a blush collecting in her cheeks.
Rosaline’s heart leaped in her chest at hearing her name from his lips.
He makes it sound like a wish rather than a curse.
She felt a thrilling spark of something—hope, maybe.
This was dangerous territory, but she could not help herself.
Chapter Thirteen
“And then, if it pleases Your Grace, she took it upon herself to assist Mr. Peabody with the rose garden,” the butler recounted, his voice low and steady.
“Seems the old chap was at his wit’s end with the yellowing leaves. Her Grace, bless her soul, had him tending the roses in ways I never thought possible. The blooms are…magnificent, Your Grace. A sight to behold.”
He paused, a flicker of something akin to grudging admiration in his eyes.
Adam, who had been staring unseeingly at the wall as he half-listened from his chair, felt a flicker of warmth, a rare crack in the icy facade he habitually wore.
It was not in his nature to indulge in sentiments, least of all over domestic matters, but the butler’s words, though delivered with a hint of dry amusement, had struck a chord.
“And the horses,” the butler continued, his gaze fixed respectfully ahead, pretending not to notice that the duke was lost in thought. “Mr. Smith, the stable master, swears he’s never seen the creatures so plump. All thanks to Her Grace. Seems she has a knack for economy.”
The butler was one of the best, but even he could not quite keep his tone even.
