Page 3 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess

“My apologies, Your Grace!” the drunken man gasped, and Adam released him abruptly, straightening to glare at the others in the room, who were all staring silently.

“Now,” Adam commanded the room at large, his voice a low rumble that carried across the space. Each word was a demand, a silent order. “One of you is going to direct me to wherever it is that my brother is hiding.”

A beat of silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by a nervous shuffling.

Every man in the room scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with fear and desperation.

Adam’s lips curled into a sneer.

Pathetic.This is where Henry chose to while away his life? This was the company he kept, rather than facing their home?

“You.” Adam’s gaze landed on a drunkard, his eyes narrowed.

The man, caught in the spotlight of Adam’s attention, gulped nervously. He was the steadiest of the lot, the least desperate.

“Take me to Lord Henry Fitzwilliam,” he commanded.

“Of course, Your Grace,” the man stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

He bowed hastily, his movements jerky and uncertain.

Coward, Adam thought, his disdain palpable.

“I am Viscount Shropton,” the man said.

Adam merely grunted in response, his gaze boring into the man. He turned away, his long strides carrying him towards the stairs.

A waste of space.

He followed the viscount up the creaking wooden stairs, onto a dimly lit balcony overlooking the den.

As he stepped onto the balcony, his eyes fell upon his younger brother, lounging in a chair, his face lit by the flickering candlelight.

Henry was surrounded by a group of men, his charm on full display. A wave of annoyance washed over Adam.

Always the center of attention.

“Thank you,” Adam said dismissively to Shropton, his voice cold and distant.

The man hesitated, his eyes darting between Adam and Henry. Adam’s gaze hardened, and the man quickly turned and scurried away.

Adam forced himself to move slowly, deliberately, despite the pain shooting through his leg. He kept his shoulders squared, his head held high, a silent warning to those who dared to challenge him.

As he entered the den, the room fell silent. All eyes were on him.

Henry, however, continued to laugh and joke with his companions, oblivious to Adam’s presence.

Idiotic boy, Adam thought, a flicker of affection hidden beneath his facade of indifference.

Beside his brother, one of the most notorious moneylenders in the ton smiled up at the duke with great venom.

Redmond Heron had a reputation that made up for his lack of title. He was well-known among the ton for being predatory, ruthless, and vicious.

“Good morning,” Adam did not address the men as gentlemen, though he was unsure they even noticed the reminder of the difference in status. “I must disturb your game by collecting my wayward brother.”

He dropped a hand onto Henry’s shoulder, and the younger man startled, as if he hadn’t even taken notice of the duke’s approach.

“Adam! Why, I was just talking about you!” Henry enthused. “Won’t you join us, just for a hand or two? I promise to makequick work of these blokes.” He tried to wink, but it became just an exaggerated blink.