Page 6 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess

One more misstep, and I’ll cut him off completely.

Henry’s eyes widened in fear. He nodded slowly, his voice barely a whisper.

“Y–You’re right, brother. I–I–I am sorry.”

Adam released his grip, a flicker of pity crossing his face.

“Do not be sorry,” he said, his voice hard. “Bebetter.”

And with that, he turned and strode away, leaving Henry to his thoughts.

Chapter Two

“Your Grace, may I have a moment of your time?” a voice called out, as the two brothers turned the corner toward their townhouse.

A shadow shifted in a nearby alley. The pair had paid it no mind as they passed, until hurried footsteps sounded on the stone.

Adam paused and turned to survey the man who had oozed out of the alley, dressed in a fine facsimile of the ton’s most current fashions.

The figure wore clothes inspired by the fad of holidays to Italy; bright colors, much like a peacock, stood starkly out of place.

In contrast, the Duke of Oldstone and his brother had donned their timeless black.

“Henry, I shall meet you at the townhouse,” Adam dismissed his brother without looking at him.

He heard Henry sigh and carry on walking.

At least he knew better than to argue,Adam mused, already frowning at the man before him.

“Nasty business, having to walk all the way home after the night he’s had,” the man tutted and shook his head, though he grinned as if it were some sort of private joke he shared with the duke. “Must be part of his atonement.”

“If that is all you care to remark upon, I shall be on my way,” Adam barely inclined his head enough to be polite, but the man took a quick step forward.

“Your Grace, just a quick moment.” His eyes were over-bright and scheming, and he had the same serpentine smile as Redmond Heron.

How many moneylenders and card sharks can my brother possibly have run afoul of?Adam groaned inwardly but kept his face stoic, even as his leg tinged worse than ever.

“I do not have time for men like you,” Adam replied stiffly and turned his back on the man.

“You will make time for men who know about your brother’s time in the army.”

Adam froze, feeling icy hot rage fill his chest, knocking the breath from him as anger creased lines deeply around his mouth.

Collecting himself, Adam turned to glare over his shoulder, sizing him up before whirling on his heel and striding at the man.

The man’s eyes went wide, and he stumbled backwards a step or two as Adam advanced, head high, blue eyes bright with anger.

In just a few strides, Adam had closed the distance between himself and the man, forcing him back into the alley, until his back collided with a brick wall.

Only then did Adam stop his advance, glaring down.

“Speak.” Adam commanded, his voice low.

“Your Grace,” The man began, sweat visible on his brow as he fidgeted against the wall. “I am Earl John Arnold of Claridge?—”

“I am aware of who you are,” the duke growled, his eyes boring into the man, a flicker of impatience in his gaze. “Do not waste my time.”

Lord Claridge swallowed hard, paling slightly. Adam noted the man’s nervous demeanor, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face.