Page 106 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess

Adam walked inside, discarding his hat onto a chair and waited for Claridge to stand.

The man was huffing and puffing, dressed only in his nightshirt as he scrambled for his breeches. He pulled them on, his hair in disarray.

“Good morning, Lord Claridge,” Adam said conversationally. “What a welcome sight you are.”

He pushed the door, now hanging on one hinge, back against the frame, giving them relative privacy.

Claridge made no attempt to mask his anger, stepping around the end of his bed and glaring at Adam as though he might strike him.

“How dare you come in here?—?”

“How dareI?” Adam roared, throwing his cloak aside and onto a chair.

He advanced on Claridge, as the man cowered before him, dwarfed by both Adam’s rage and his height.

“I will do whatever Ipleasearound you, sir. I owe you nothing, you deservenothingfrom anyone, and I will see you pay for your crimes.”

“Crimes?” Claridge spluttered. “What crimes?”

Adam had to begrudgingly give him credit—lies tripped off this man’s tongue like silk.

“You deny it?”

“I do not know of what you are speaking!”

Adam took a menacing step forward, as Claridge retreated to the window. Adam was in two minds as to whether he would throw him out of it.

“I know what you did to my wife.”

Claridge scoffed. “I have done nothing to Rosaline. What happens to her is not my affair. She is your problem now.”

Adam leaned back a little, spearing him with a long stare.

“I did not give you enough credit before,” he said as Claridge seemed to relax just a fraction. “I would not have expected you to have such excellent taste in brandy.”

The man’s eyes widened as color crept up his neck.

“What brandy?” But the man’s bluster was failing him. “I know nothing of what you speak, if you are accusing me of anything you would have to have proof?—”

“What a shame there are six witnesses willing to corroborate my story then,” Adam snapped and Claridge’s face paled as his back hit the window ledge.

The sound of the street outside was dulled here but Adam could hear the clopping of a horse’s hooves and the heavy march of footsteps approaching.

He was looking forward to never having to see this man’s smug countenance ever again.

“Witnesses? Some half-bred ingrates from the back of beyond will not be believed over an earl.”

“And what about a duke?”

Claridge ran his teeth over his bottom lip, his muscles tense, and in the next moment he had flung himself to the side and around Adam and was running to the door, but Adam was too fast for him.

His hand shot out, gripping Claridge’s wrist in a vice and pulling his arm behind his back so sharply that Claridge cried out in pain.

Adam shoved him hard against the bed post as the breath burst from Claridge’s lungs and Adam used his full weight to pin him in place.

“You will go to prison for this,” he snarled, his hand tightened as Claridge whimpered. “You will sit in your cell day after day, thinking of the man who put you there. I hope that Rosaline’s face haunts your dreams whenever you consider double-crossing anyone again.”

He let him go, knowing that Claridge would instantly try to run again and when the man attempted it Adam spun him around and landed another punch to his jaw before following it up with another to his nose.