Page 5 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess

“If you were entertaining my games, you’d be in as much debt as your brother, Your Grace. Unless a gift with card games is one ofthe secrets you keep.” Redmond’s eyes flashed dangerously, but Adam overrode him before he could continue.

“Mr. Heron, have you forgotten that you address the Duke of Oldstone?” Adam snarled, looming tall over the table.

He glared down his nose at the moneylender, disgust and fury creasing his handsome face.

I won’t let him get away with this.

“I do not negotiate.” The duke released Henry just long enough to count out the money from his wallet, slamming it on the table forcefully enough that everyone seated flinched back.

“There is one thousand pounds to settle my brother’s debt, and I imagine that, given your loose bookkeeping, that sum includes enough interest already, as well as an extra fee of my own.”

“An extra fee?” Redmond repeated incredulously, the self-satisfied smirk long since wiped from his face.

“Yes,” Adam dragged Henry out of his chair by his shirt collar, setting him on unsteady feet, then glared back down at Redmond Heron. “Consider it payment in advance for the service you will be providing me, in ensuring that my brother never steps foot in this establishment again.”

“Adam,” Henry began with a whine, but Adam steamrolled over him; he would thank him later. “And should you fail to providethis service I have paid for, I will personally collect my refund, with interest.”

Redmond glared up at Adam, his jaw locked shut and rage glistening in his beady eyes as his fingers drummed with helpless frustration on the table.

“Do I make myself clear, Mr. Heron?” Adam’s voice was nearly a whisper, but every man at the table heard it clearly, hanging on his every word, looking wide-eyed to the moneylender to see if he would defy the duke.

A beat of silence passed, then two.

Adam did not back down from the staring contest with Redmond, knowing that looking away would be seen as weakness.

Finally, after several tense breaths, Redmond looked away, fixing his poisonous smile back in place, though his eyes glittered coldly.

“Of course, Your Grace. It has been a pleasure doing business with yourself, and Lord Fitzwilliam.”

“Indeed,” Adam nodded, then half-dragged Henry from his chair, glaring at his brother until the younger man sighed and began his painfully slow, sulky way down the stairs and out of the gambling den.

“Must you always embarrass me?” Henry moaned, rubbing his eyes against the morning light, the weight of his brother’s disapproval heavy on his shoulders.

In the harsh daylight, his haggard features were laid bare, a stark contrast to his usual debonair facade.

Adam snorted, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

Typical Henry, always needing to be rescued.

He turned away, his jaw clenched, and began the walk back to the townhouse.

Henry trailed behind and Adam’s injured leg protested with every step.

“I am not the one being dragged out of the gutter in the wee hours of the morning,” Adam retorted, his voice laced with disdain.

“I was making my own fortune! Isn’t that what you always say you want for me?” Henry protested, his voice rising.

Adam rolled his eyes.

Fortune? What fortune? A pile of gambling debts and a tarnished reputation?

He turned to face his brother, his gaze piercing. “We have fortune enough as it is. I would prefer the way you find be a wife, not the bottom of a bottle or the knave of spades. Build a life, not an empire.”

Henry scoffed. “I meet more interesting people this way,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Adam’s patience was wearing thin. He stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous.

“Enough.” He grabbed Henry’s collar, his grip firm. “Do not mistake my interference for tolerance.” His eyes bore into Henry’s, a silent threat.