Page 57 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess

His words, so firm and unapologetically protective, caused her chest to tighten, but she quickly masked it with a wry smile.

“You seem to forget, Duke, that titles alone don’t shield one from the ton. Scandal goes beyond titles,” she said. “Take Lady Worthington, for example. She was the perfect lady by all accounts, and yet, the whispers never stopped.”

Adam’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening.

“The ton,” he muttered, his voice laced with disdain, “is a fickle thing, but none of them will dare challenge you. Not while I’m by your side.” He paused, his eyes softening with an intensity that made her heart race. “And I will not let anyone harm you—not now, not ever.”

The carriage soon drew to a halt before the grand townhouse.

Rosaline felt a familiar wave of apprehension wash over her. The stares. The whispers.

“You will have some time to calm down at the townhouse before we head to the ball,” Adam added, his tone almost gentle. “A brief respite before the evening begins.”

Upon hearing these words, she straightened her back, squaring her shoulders, and raised her chin high, her gaze steady.

He was right; she was Duchess of Oldstone. She had nothing to fear.

As she stepped out of the carriage and they entered the townhouse, they were met with utter chaos at the parlor.

Adam’s younger brother, Henry, was sprawled on a velvet sofa, half-naked, with an empty glass beside him.

A disheveled woman was hurriedly trying to exit through the back door, and the butler was hovering awkwardly, trying to maintain an air of composure.

“Henry!” Adam roared, his voice booming through the townhouse. “What in heaven’s name is the meaning of this?”

Henry blinked, groggy, clearly still caught in the haze of whatever debauchery had been going on.

“Adam! You…you’re back! And…and the duchess!”

He scrambled to his feet, looking utterly terrified.

The woman in the corner gasped, her eyes wide with panic, and without a second glance at either of them, she turned and boltedthrough the door, disappearing into the hall beyond, and out of the townhouse.

“And who,” Adam continued, his voice dripping with disdain, “was that?”

Henry, his face flushing a deep crimson, stammered, “That was… uh…a-a…a friend.”

“A half-naked ‘friend’ who prefers to make a hasty exit upon my arrival?” Adam’s voice grew colder, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “You will explain yourself, Henry. And you will do so now, before I send you packing to the country where you can sort yourself out once and for all.”

Henry’s nervousness only intensified under Adam’s unwavering gaze. He glanced at the door where the woman had disappeared and then back at Adam, visibly shrinking under the force of his brother’s anger.

Rosaline stood to the side. There was no doubt that Adam commanded attention. Despite herself, Rosaline couldn’t help but admire the sheer power he wielded with so little effort.

Adam’s eyes flicked back to Henry, his tone sharp and unforgiving. “I expect you to make amends for this, brother. And you will accompany us to Lord Harrington’s ball tonight, whether you like it or not.”

Henry swallowed hard, visibly trying to gather himself. “Of course, Adam. Yes, I’ll…I’ll get it sorted. I’ll come.”

Adam’s expression remained thunderous as he turned on his heel and stalked toward the door.

“See that you do. I will not tolerate further disgrace from you tonight.”

With that, Adam stormed off, leaving Rosaline and Henry alone in the parlor.

Henry, still reeling, gave Rosaline a sheepish glance, who had been an observant bystander to the whole exchange.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Well, that went as well as I expected.”

Rosaline smiled dryly, leaning against the back of a chair, her arms crossed.