Claiming his Cursed Duchess (Cursed Brides #2)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

“ Y our Grace, may I have a moment of your time?” a voice called out, as the two brothers turned the corner toward their townhouse.

A shadow shifted in a nearby alley. The pair had paid it no mind as they passed, until hurried footsteps sounded on the stone.

Adam paused and turned to survey the man who had oozed out of the alley, dressed in a fine facsimile of the ton’s most current fashions.

The figure wore clothes inspired by the fad of holidays to Italy; bright colors, much like a peacock, stood starkly out of place.

In contrast, the Duke of Oldstone and his brother had donned their timeless black.

“Henry, I shall meet you at the townhouse,” Adam dismissed his brother without looking at him.

He heard Henry sigh and carry on walking.

At least he knew better than to argue, Adam mused, already frowning at the man before him.

“Nasty business, having to walk all the way home after the night he’s had,” the man tutted and shook his head, though he grinned as if it were some sort of private joke he shared with the duke. “Must be part of his atonement.”

“If that is all you care to remark upon, I shall be on my way,” Adam barely inclined his head enough to be polite, but the man took a quick step forward.

“Your Grace, just a quick moment.” His eyes were over-bright and scheming, and he had the same serpentine smile as Redmond Heron.

How many moneylenders and card sharks can my brother possibly have run afoul of? Adam groaned inwardly but kept his face stoic, even as his leg tinged worse than ever.

“I do not have time for men like you,” Adam replied stiffly and turned his back on the man.

“You will make time for men who know about your brother’s time in the army.”

Adam froze, feeling icy hot rage fill his chest, knocking the breath from him as anger creased lines deeply around his mouth.

Collecting himself, Adam turned to glare over his shoulder, sizing him up before whirling on his heel and striding at the man.

The man’s eyes went wide, and he stumbled backwards a step or two as Adam advanced, head high, blue eyes bright with anger.

In just a few strides, Adam had closed the distance between himself and the man, forcing him back into the alley, until his back collided with a brick wall.

Only then did Adam stop his advance, glaring down.

“Speak.” Adam commanded, his voice low.

“Your Grace,” The man began, sweat visible on his brow as he fidgeted against the wall. “I am Earl John Arnold of Claridge?—”

“I am aware of who you are,” the duke growled, his eyes boring into the man, a flicker of impatience in his gaze. “Do not waste my time.”

Lord Claridge swallowed hard, paling slightly. Adam noted the man’s nervous demeanor, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face.

A coward, as expected.

He forced himself to maintain his composure, the image of his brother’s reckless actions flashing through his mind.

Though he wanted to tear the Earl limb from limb, Adam had been well prepared to take on his role as the duke, and he knew staying silent would unsettle the small man and scare him into talking more than he should.

Indeed, Lord Claridge looked increasingly uneasy as the silent seconds slipped by, reaching up to loosen his collar, his smug smile dimming slightly.

“I have a letter, you see,” he finally began, stumbling over his words slightly. “It…fell into my hands a year ago.”

Adam used every ounce of patience in his body not to react.

I know the cost of rash actions, Adam reminded himself as a twinge of pain shot up his leg.

His fingernails bit into his palms as he clenched them to restrain himself, hoping the earl would continue revealing what he knew, and what evidence he had, without Adam admitting to anything.

“Your war hero brother killed his commanding officer,” Lord Claridge hissed, the strength of blackmail lending confidence to his smug smile. “He confessed to it in this letter, penned in his hand.”

The earl paused, evidently pleased with himself.

“A letter which I have kept very safe, lest it fall into the wrong hands.” His voice had grown steadier. “A letter like that could ruin a man’s life, and possibly the legacy of an entire family.”

Blackmail, then. Adam thought grimly, Just as I suspected.

Shame washed over him, a bitter taste in his mouth.

A duke, reduced to this.

Adam’s jaw clenched so tightly he could almost hear his teeth creak as a muscle along his cheek jumped and twitched.

“As I am sure you are aware, Your Grace, my family is also familiar with the harm rumors can do to a legacy,” Lord Claridge finally began his business pitch, and Adam tried not to let his impatience and frustration show.

“My niece, Rosaline, is the daughter of my brother, the late Earl of Claridge. I am sure you have heard talk among the ton of the cursed trio of women—she is one of them, I fear. With her reputation so shrouded and tarnished, I would be eternally grateful if a man of your status would see fit to marry her.”

Adam’s vision went scarlet once again.

Forced into marriage?

The duke could not stop his polite mask from cracking, revealing the fury within him as his eyes blazed with rage, teeth bared.

Lord Claridge went utterly pale, eyes wide, smug smile frozen in place as the duke loomed over him.

“I will keep that letter as safe as my niece’s future,” he squeaked, his voice barely a whisper.

The duke set back on his heels slightly, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I suppose your niece and I will make a handsome couple,” Adam finally forced the words through gritted teeth, clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides.

A forced marriage, a tainted reputation, and a life dictated by blackmail.

Adam took a deep breath and nodded once, confirming the shocked optimism in Lord Claridge’s eyes.

“A handsome couple, indeed!” The earl beamed, smugly confident once more. “I shall have my wife make the arrangements necessary for Lady Rosaline. Simply provide us with the wedding date—it should be within the next three days. That should suffice for a powerful duke like you to acquire a special license, no?”

Three days? Adam snarled, then took a deep breath.

“Three days is short notice for a wedding ceremony befitting a duke and his duchess, wouldn’t you agree, Lord Claridge?”

He shifted forward once again, grimly satisfied that, even with the clear upper hand, the earl still cowered slightly before the duke.

“We wouldn’t want the ton to start spinning rumors about what a rushed…affair the union is.” Adam chose his words carefully, his tone soft but dripping with venom. “I will marry your niece, but it will be in a ceremony that suits my tastes, and on a timeline that satisfies me.”

“As you wish, Your Grace,” The earl bowed his head, surprising Adam by not arguing until Lord Claridge looked up, eyes devious.

“Luckily you have clearly demonstrated in this business deal that your taste is to prefer privacy, and your timeline is swift. A man of your status should not be wasting time.”

Adam felt every bone in his body scream against being bent and manipulated to the earl’s will.

“You have grown to know me quite well in all our business dealings,” he said, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

He had never spoken to the earl before that morning, and he hoped for both their sakes that he never had to exchange words with the man again.

“I look forward to the happy day,” Lord Claridge smiled, seeming to relax.

Adam could not let that smug smile remain.

He took a swift step toward the man, his eyes narrowing.

“You will regret this, Claridge. I will see to it personally,” he vowed in a low, gravelly voice, his tone a chilling promise.