Page 46 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess

“Your Graces,” he grunted, crossing his arms. “Come to tell us what we’re doing wrong?”

Adam bristled at the man’s tone. “You’d do well to mind your manners Mr. Wilkes,” he began, his voice low and dangerous.

But Rosaline stepped forward, cutting him off with a small gesture. “We’re here to listen, not to lecture, Mr. Wilkes,” she said evenly.

Adam clenched his jaw, swallowing his retort. He had never been one for patience, particularly when faced with insolence, but Rosaline moved with a calm assurance that made him pause.

“You expect me to believe that?” Wilkes barked a laugh. “Your kind always come with orders and judgment. Promises don’t put food on the table.”

Adam opened his mouth, but Rosaline beat him to it. “No, they do not,” she said, her voice firm. “But solutions might. What is your biggest challenge here, Mr. Wilkes?”

Adam studied her closely, noting the way her tone shifted—neither condescending nor overly friendly, just steady. Wilkes, to Adam’s surprise, hesitated before answering.

“The drainage,” Wilkes admitted grudgingly. “Rain floods the lower fields, and I lose crops every season. Fixing it costs more than it’s worth.”

Rosaline tilted her head, clearly thinking. Then, she glanced at Adam, her eyebrow up now, as if asking for permission.

He immediately nodded. Considering how she’d handled Hemmings, there was no pointing stopping her there.

Rosaline turned towards Wilkes, “What if you redirected the water to the higher fields?” she suggested. “They seem parched enough to benefit.”

Wilkes frowned. “Redirect it? With what?”

“A system of ditches and embankments,” Adam chimed in, his lips itching to curve up into a smile.

“It would take some labor, but if the neighboring farms pitched in, it could be manageable,” Rosaline added.

Adam almost smiled at the stunned look on Wilkes’ face. She had blindsided the man with practicality—an approach Adam hadn’t anticipated.

“You’d organize that?” Wilkes asked after a long pause, scratching at his beard.

“We will,” Rosaline said, “But only if you are willing to work with us instead of against us.”

Adam noted the subtle challenge in her words, the way she gave Wilkes no room for excuses.

The farmer muttered something unintelligible but finally nodded.

As they walked back to the carriage, Adam couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “You have a talent for handling difficult men,” he said, his tone laced with dry amusement.

“Every woman has dealt with difficult men in her life, Your Grace, just as I have,” Rosaline simply responded.

The next farm belonged to the Farrows, an elderly couple who had spent decades clinging to their traditional ways.

Adam had dealt with them before—or rather, he had tried. Mrs. Farrow had always been quick to criticize and slow to compromise.

“Your Graces,” Mrs. Farrow greeted them as they approached the house. Her sharp gaze darted to Rosaline. “What is wrong with our farm this time?”

Adam opened his mouth to reply, but something about Rosaline’s calm expression made him stop.

“Not at all, Mrs. Farrow,” Rosaline said. “We came to see what is right with it.”

The unexpected answer caught Mrs. Farrow off guard. She narrowed her eyes, clearly suspicious. “We’ve been doing just fine without interference.”

“Of course,” Rosaline replied smoothly. “But even the finest work can benefit from collaboration. I noticed your orchard—those pear trees near the eastern edge are remarkable. Do you sell the fruit?”

Adam watched as Mrs. Farrow straightened slightly, clearly pleased despite herself.

“We do,” she admitted.