Claiming his Cursed Duchess (Cursed Brides #2)

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

“ W hy, pray tell, did you choose me to be your duchess, Your Grace?” Rosaline finally broke the silence, her voice low.

The carriage ride to Oldstone had been a tense silence, broken only by the rhythmic clopping of hooves on cobblestone.

Adam’s expression remained impassive, though his piercing eyes flickered away from the window for a moment.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his features, but he quickly schooled his expression.

“Because it suited me,” he replied, his tone nonchalant.

Rosaline narrowed her eyes, a spark of defiance igniting within her. She leaned forward, her posture regal, her chin tilted slightly upward.

“That is not an answer,” she retorted, her voice rising slightly.

The duke turned to face his duchess, his gaze intense.

“It is the only one you are getting,” he said, his voice low and icy.

Rosaline felt a surge of adrenaline. She wouldn’t allow him to intimidate her.

She met his gaze, her eyes flashing with intelligence and wit.

“Oh, I am certain there is more to you than meets the eye, husband. And you ought to know, I am not easily intimidated.”

A spark ignited between them, a dangerous tension that crackled in the air. Rosaline felt a strange thrill, both fear and excitement simultaneously.

“Do you believe I try to intimidate you, dear wife?” The duke matched Rosaline’s tone, more focused on her now than he had been even when they exchanged vows.

Those intense blue eyes sent a shiver through Rosaline, who could not stop herself from smiling.

“I believe you are unused to having to try to intimidate anyone.” Rosaline purred, watching as Adam shifted, taking note of the way his shirt and jacket rippled over his muscled chest and shoulders.

“Oh? I should try to intimidate my own wife?” Adam asked, eyebrows raising as he leaned forward slightly, as if her couldn’t help himself, and Rosaline felt the same draw toward him.

“You should not intimidate your wife at all.”

Adam nodded slightly, mulling that over. “A unique view in a ton such as ours,” he eyed Rosaline over, watching her stiffen slightly as she awaited his verdict. “But not incorrect. Good partnerships, including marriage, should not be characterized by fear and intimidation.”

“You surprise me, Your Grace.” Rosaline tilted her head to one side, “By all accounts of the ton, I thought myself wed to a truly fearsome duke.”

“By all accounts of the ton, I thought myself wed to a truly cursed lady,” Adam replied, and Rosaline’s mouth gaped open. “Come, duchess, do you believe all the rumors of the ton? I certainly do not subscribe to them.”

“I admire your dedication to the truth over the ton’s salacious stories.” Rosaline finally managed, and the duke scoffed slightly, his gaze returning to the scenery outside the window.

“Are you always this frank with strangers?” Adam asked after a moment, turning back to Rosaline.

“Only the ones I marry,” Rosaline quipped, blue eyes sparkling with mischief, and for the first time, she saw the duke truly smile.

She leaned forward, so their faces were inches apart.

He was quite handsome, in a brooding sort of way. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, a sensation she hadn’t experienced before.

For a moment, she thought he might kiss her, a reckless, impulsive act that would defy all reason despite their marriage.

But then, the carriage lurched to a halt, and the spell was broken.

Rosaline stepped out, her head held high.

She had always been proud, and this day would be no different.

The duke emerged from the carriage behind her, his jaw set and his eyes narrowed. His gaze swept over her, taking in her elegant form and defiant spirit.

“This is a marriage of convenience, duchess,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “We will appear united in public, but in private, we will have separate lives.”

Rosaline’s heart raced with a mix of relief and irritation. A separate life. Well, that would suit her just fine . She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“A most agreeable arrangement,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Adam’s brow furrowed.

“And we will produce an heir,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper. “But that is a matter for the future.”

Rosaline avoided his gaze.

“You are my duchess now, wife,” Adam said, his voice low and dangerous. “You will behave as such.”

Rosaline scoffed inwardly.

She met his gaze, her eyes filled with a quiet defiance. “Of course, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice sweet but firm.

Adam nodded curtly, then turned and walked away.

A maid approached, her demeanor formal and distant. “Welcome, Your Grace,” she said, her voice stiff.

Rosaline returned the greeting with a polite nod, her eyes flashing with intelligence. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice warm. “I am Rosaline.”

“I am Mary, Your Grace,” the maid said, her gaze fixed on the floor. “I mostly help in the kitchens.”

Rosaline smiled slightly, if tightly. “Mary, is it? Is something the matter? You seem…uncomfortable.”

She tugged her gloves up, checking that they hid as much of her scarred arms as possible.

Mary flinched. “I…I merely wish to serve you well, Your Grace.”

Rosaline studied her for a moment, then sighed.

Now is not the time to force myself upon the frightened staff, she mused. They must grow used to me in their own time, and warm to me by my own kindness .

Mary was young, perhaps in her early twenties like Rosaline herself, with a nervous tremor in her hands.

“I am sure you will,” Rosaline said gently.

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

Rosaline nodded. “Now, if you could show me my rooms, please.”

The maid led Rosaline through the labyrinthine corridors, each turn revealing another hidden corner of the manor. Rosaline’s keen eyes took in every detail, committing it to memory.

Along the way, Rosaline made small talk with Mary. Mary, initially hesitant, gradually warmed to Rosaline’s friendly approach.

Finally, they reached her room, a spacious chamber with high ceilings and large windows. The decor was elegant but cold, reflecting the austere nature of the man who owned it.

“It is…grand,” she said to Mary, trying to sound impressed.

Mary nodded. “His Grace prefers simplicity.”

Rosaline raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

Rosaline smiled. “I’d like to brush up on my skills with the piano.”

Mary’s eyes widened slightly. “You…you play, Your Grace?”

“A little,” Rosaline replied, a playful twinkle in her eye. “Not for a long time. Perhaps you can find me some books of songs lying about? I’m sure I’m far from the first to want to improve my skills in this estate.”

Mary’s face brightened. “But of course, Your Grace.”

Rosaline smiled. “Excellent. Now, let us unpack.” Finally, they reached her room, a spacious chamber with high ceilings and large windows.

A stark contrast to my vibrant spirit, she thought, a mischievous glint in her eye.

As she sat on the edge of the bed, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation.

She glanced at the mirror, her reflection staring back at her. A small, satisfied smile curved her lips.

The duke may be a formidable opponent, but I won ’ t go down without a fight, she vowed.

Later that evening, Rosaline was summoned to the dining room, where the duke was already seated at the head of the table.

She straightened her spine, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. She smoothed her gown, the silk whispering against her gloved hands. She would not let him see her fear or doubt—or her scars.

The meal was a silent affair, the only sound the clinking of silverware. Adam ate with a voracious appetite, his eyes never leaving his plate. Rosaline picked at her food, her mind racing.

He ’ s a beast, a man of few words, but there ’ s something about him…something intriguing.

She couldn’t help but steal glances at him, her heart pounding in her chest.

After dinner, Adam retired to his study, leaving Rosaline alone with her thoughts.

She decided to explore the gardens, hoping to clear her head. The gardens were a stark contrast to the gloomy interior of the manor. The air was fresh and crisp, and the colorful flowers were a welcome sight.

As she wandered through the maze, she stumbled upon a hidden alcove.

Inside, she found a small, secluded garden, a peaceful oasis hidden from the rest of the world.

She sat on a stone bench, gazing at the stars. For a moment, she felt a sense of peace, a sense of calm in spite of the tempest that fate had thrown her into.

No, not fate this time. Rosaline set her shoulders. This was no stormy accident of destiny, this was engineered by my scheming uncle .

Now she was trapped in this loveless marriage, a prisoner in her own gilded cage. She had no idea what the future held, but she knew one thing for sure; she would not be a victim. She would fight for her own happiness, no matter the cost.

A shadow fell over her, and she looked up to find Adam standing at the mouth of her little alcove. His eyes, which had been so cold and distant all day, seemed softer in the shadows.

“You seem lost,” he said, his deep voice surprisingly gentle.

Rosaline stood up, brushing off imaginary dirt from her skirt.

“I was merely enjoying the solitude,” she replied, her voice steady.

Adam raised an eyebrow. “Solitude? In a garden filled with life?” He stepped closer, his gaze intense. “Or perhaps you were seeking something more?”

“What could I be seeking here?” Rosaline looked around the garden.

“Beauty.” Adam replied, the weight of his intense gaze leaving Rosaline breathless as a blush colored her cheeks.

Glancing away from the duke, Rosaline cast her eyes at the flowers around her.

“And you came here seeking beauty, I suppose? Have you found it?” She looked up at him, chin tilted up in a challenge, exposing the pale column of her throat.

Adam’s gaze shifted slowly from Rosaline’s neck to meet her eyes again.

“Beauty is always abundant in this garden.” Adam replied cryptically, hesitating for a beat before adding, more quietly, “Now more than ever.” His deep, husky whisper sent a shiver through Rosaline.

The duke took a step forward, and Rosaline gasped at his closeness, bosom heaving against the confines of her corset as she felt his legs stir her skirts.

Her full lips parted slightly, breath leaving her in a rush, and she imagined she could feel an impossible heat radiating from the duke as his eyes darkened with something that made Rosaline feel deliciously helpless.

“Are you the type of man to pass beauty by, to let it flower and fade in your garden?” Rosaline asked, her voice as soft as a rose petal.

“I am the type of man to appreciate beauty as it truly deserves—pursuing, preserving, and indulging it.” His voice was low and rough, his intense gaze so hypnotic that a gasp was startled from Rosaline when Adam’s large, warm hand cupped the side of her neck, pulling her closer, tipping her face up towards his.

Rosaline could feel his warm breath against her face, and something hot fluttered in her core, some insistent sense of longing and need she had never felt before, making her blink at the duke, unable to form words.

Adam held her there for a moment, so close, his hand gentle at her throat, before a rustling sound drew his attention and he stepped back, turning away.

“Your Grace.” A voice made her jolt, and Rosaline felt cold where he no longer touched her, shivering as Adam pulled his hand away.

They turned around to find the butler.

“Yes?” Adam asked with a slight hiss.

“My apologies for interrupting, Your Graces, but there is a message for His Grace,” the butler explained.

Adam let out a low groan.

When Adam turned toward her again, Rosaline’s breath caught in her throat for a moment, then her heart sank. Whatever fire had burned in Adam’s eyes a moment ago, it had now faded.

“I shall deal with this first. Meet me at the entrance hall in ten minutes,” Adam said.

Seeing her hesitation, Adam’s face softened slightly, that darkness flickering in his eyes again. “The most beautiful roses are the ones in danger of being picked before they can fully blossom in the garden.”

It sounds as if my husband may want me for himself, Rosaline mused, feeling hope bubbling in her chest. Or at least to preserve the illusion that we are loyal partners.

The bubble of optimism burst in her chest as she responded, “Yes.”

“Good,” Adam only said and walked off with the butler trailing behind him.