Page 65 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess

The relief that flooded through Rosaline was palpable, so sudden it nearly caught in her throat. She smiled at Henry with genuine warmth, glad for the distraction.

“So, shall we?” Henry turned back to Rosaline.

“Of course, Henry,” she said, nodding graciously.

The tightness in her chest eased as she placed her hand in his, the smoothness of his palm a welcome change from the tension of Lady Claridge’s unwelcome scrutiny.

The moment Henry’s hand clasped hers, Rosaline felt an odd sense of comfort.

Dancing,she thought,is the only thing that still makes sense anymore.

The movement of her body, the rhythm of the music, offered her a temporary respite from the sting of her aunt’s words.

As they glided onto the crowded dance floor, the noise of the room and the heat from the mass of bodies made her feel a little lighter, as if the music could carry her away from the sting of her aunt’s words.

“Thank you,” she whispered to Henry.

“No need, Your Grace. I know what bothersome family members are like. I hope it is a long time until you meet Uncle Tobias,” Henry replied with a warm smile.

“Uncle Tobias?”

“Mmhm. Unless you have an unhealthy interest in turnips.”

Rosaline chuckled. “No, unfortunately, I am not particularly fond of turnips.”

“Then trust me, you must steer clear of him.” Henry whispered in a conspiratorial way.

“I shall bear that in mind, thank you, my lord,” Rosaline said with a smile as they reached the dance floor.

She kept her focus on the dance steps, but her mind wandered, her thoughts drawn to the briefest of flashes from the conversation with Lady Claridge.

The faintest flicker of an idea stirred in her.

Am I grateful?

No, she thought. Grateful for the sake of a title? For a marriage dictated by duty? Hardly.

“Pardon my directness, Your Grace, but you look rather stunning tonight. Red suits you very much,” Henry remarked and smiled warmly at her.

Rosaline’s heart gave a small, surprised flutter at his kind words, though she quickly suppressed the feeling. She had grown accustomed to the compliments, but somehow, Henry’s lightness felt different.

“Thank you, Lord Henry,” she replied, her lips curving into a soft smile. “You are very kind.”

The music swirled around them, the steps becoming a soothing rhythm as they danced. She felt herself relax, her movements flowing effortlessly with Henry’s. He was, without a doubt, easy to be around—his charm, a balm for the day’s irritations, and his presence, calm and reassuring.

“So…how are you finding married life?” Henry asked, his voice cautious, unsure if he had crossed some unspoken line.

Rosaline hesitated, her gaze drifting to the floor as she considered her response.

“It…” She paused, her brow furrowing for the briefest of moments. “It has its challenges,” she admitted, her eyes now fixed on the swirling patterns of the dancers around them, “But…it’s bearable.”

She managed a small smile, but it felt almost too forced, too hollow.

Henry chuckled, a soft, almost pitying sound. “Bearable? Your Grace, I know my brother isn’t the sweetest apple around, but ‘bearable’?”

Rosaline laughed, the sound light and carefree despite her inner wariness. She tossed her head back slightly as she laughed, her green gown fluttering around her feet.

“Perhaps ‘bearable’ is a bit of an understatement. Adam can be…formidable.” The teasing note in her voice was deliberate, playful—she was in control, at least in this moment.