Claiming his Cursed Duchess (Cursed Brides #2)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

“ Y ou couldn’t follow one simple instruction, could you? To stay out of sight and not draw attention to yourself?”

After the last guest had finally departed, a chilling silence had descended upon the grand parlor.

Rosaline had tried to hide among the servants, helping wash the dishes, but Lady Claridge was a tempest of fury, her temper as unpredictable as the English weather.

She had stormed through the country estate, her footsteps echoing through the corridors, until she’d found her niece.

The countess’s expression was now twisted with rage, her eyes flashing like a predator’s.

Rosaline set her shoulders, bracing herself for the chaos and venom she knew she was about to endure.

I have survived so much worse than cruel words and empty threats, Rosaline reminded herself. I am a stone that the ocean beats against; for all her raging, she cannot move me.

Her pride kept her chin high, even as her aunt launched into a tirade.

Lady Claridge gestured widely, making sure her brightly colored skirts swirled dramatically around her as she paced the room.

“Instead, you had to flaunt those hideous scars for the whole world to see!” she shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls.

Rosaline, her heart pounding in her chest, attempted to explain herself.

“It was an accident!” she protested, her gloved hands twisting to stop their shaking. “How could you think I want to expose my scars to such vapid, vicious socialites?” But her words were lost in the whirlwind of her aunt’s wrath.

Lady Claridge’s face, usually painted with a garish mask of polite society, was now contorted with pure malice.

“You have ruined everything !” she bellowed, her voice rising to a crescendo. “How could you be so careless? So selfish? You are a blight on our family, and you have been since the day you managed to survive that accident! Of everyone who could have crawled out of that carriage, it just had to be you , didn’t it?”

Rosaline’s spirit, though long-tortured by her aunt and uncle’s cruel words in the year since the accident, did not bend or break in the face of this most recent rant.

She had already been made to feel like an outsider, a ghost haunting the halls of her own family home once her relations had taken over the titles.

“ You , to curse me with your very presence. You , to burden me with your every need. You , to create a dark shadow that follows me throughout the ton. All those whispered rumors and harsh looks! I am nearly a pariah!”

The countess stalked back and forth, pointing at Rosaline with each new accusation.

“They only tolerate me out of pity for having to harbor your curse,” Lady Claridge moaned, then draped herself dramatically onto a fainting couch. The estate had many, in preparation for the countess’s ‘moments’ such as these.

Rosaline lifted her chin, a defiant glint in her eyes.

Enough, she thought, her mind already calculating the best response.

“Aunt Evelyn,” she began, her voice calm, “I find your accusations both unfounded and tiresome. Perhaps you should consider the true source of your misery. Is it not your own cruelty and lack of empathy that has alienated you from the ton, rather than my mere existence?”

Lady Claridge’s eyes widened in shock. She had not expected such a bold retort. Rosaline rarely spoke back so plainly.

“You dare—!” she sputtered, her voice rising. “After all the kindness we have shown you—” Lady Claridge’s cheeks grew ruddy. “Wait until John gets home, he will deal with you. Maybe we will finally toss you onto the street where you belong—you ungrateful orphan!”

Rosaline smiled inwardly, a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

“You dare to defy me ?” Lady Claridge demanded, her voice trembling with rage. “You, a mere shadow of your former self; a creature of pity and despair!”

Rosaline’s smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet dignity.

“I may be scarred, Aunt Evelyn, but my mind remains sharp and my spirit unbroken. Unlike you, I have learned to find strength in adversity. Perhaps it is time you do the same.”

A tense pause froze the room as Lady Claridge struggled to compose herself, her fingers pressed to her temples.

Just as she was about to launch into another tirade, the door swung open, and Lord Claridge entered.

His usually stoic expression softened as he regarded his wife.

“Now, now, my dear,” he soothed, his voice a stark contrast to his wife’s tempestuous nature, “I could hear your shrieking from the foyer; do not work yourself into a fit. What has upset you this time?”

“That devilish, cursed child.” Lady Claridge groaned and sighed. “She en vertes me so, John, so ungrateful.”

Rosaline struggled not to roll her eyes.

You make me ‘ green ’ too, she thought, knowing better than to correct her aunt, who had been trying to say Rosaline vexed her.

Green with illness from having to endure these displays .

“You won’t have to endure her much longer,” Lord Claridge consoled his wife, but his vicious smile was directed at Rosaline, whose stomach dropped as she felt as though ice had flooded her veins.

Glancing at her aunt, Rosaline was surprised that the countess looked equally lost.

“What do you mean?” Lady Claridge narrowed her eyes at her husband, sitting up abruptly on the fainting couch. “What have you done, my clever earl?”

Rosaline stayed silent, but her gaze darted distrustfully between her aunt and uncle. Any scheme of theirs would surely be disastrous for her.

Lord Claridge smirked, a cruel twist to his lips.

“Why, our dear niece Rosaline is to be wed, of course. In three days or so.”

Rosaline’s heart sank.

A marriage? To whom? And in such haste?

She forced herself to remain calm, her posture straight, her chin tilted slightly upward.

She imagined herself trapped in a loveless marriage, her spirit slowly withering away. I will not allow that to happen.

She stifled a sigh, her mind already calculating her options.

“But…to whom?” she breathed, her voice barely audible as she bought herself time to strategize.

Perhaps I may yet flee, Rosaline mused, already making a list of what she must pack to survive, then realizing she was all but trapped at the country estate.

I cannot escape here without a carriage, my short rides in the countryside have not prepared me to escape on horseback.

“To the Duke of Oldstone himself,” Lord Claridge replied, looking as proud as a cat who had caught a canary. “A fine match, I assure you—he is wealthy and influential. And a recluse, to keep you from shaming us among the ton.”

Rosaline’s mind raced. The Duke of Oldstone? A stranger, a man she knew nothing about. To be married off to him, to be traded like a commodity…the thought filled her with dread.

“But…” she protested, her voice rising. “I do not even know him.”

She clenched her fists, her eyes flashing with defiance. I refuse to be a pawn in their game.

Lord Claridge scoffed. “What does that matter? This is a strategic alliance, Rosaline. It will secure our family’s future. Specifically, it will mean that you are out of our family, and married into his.”

Lady Claridge nodded in agreement, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Besides, you are not exactly the most desirable bride, are you? With your scars and your peculiarities. John, I am so pleased you managed to secure such an advantageous match.”

Rosaline felt a wave of anger and humiliation wash over her.

“I refuse,” she declared, her voice steady and defiant. “I will not marry someone I do not love.”

Her aunt and uncle exchanged a look of disbelief. “You dare defy us?” Lady Claridge hissed, her voice laced with venom.

Rosaline met her gaze, her eyes flashing with intelligence. “I dare,” she replied, her voice growing stronger. “I won’t be treated like a commodity. I deserve to be loved, not used.”

Lord Claridge’s face darkened. “You have no choice,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

You’re wrong. This is a choice I will make for myself, Rosaline thought, a small smile playing on her lips. And it won ’ t be the one you expect.