Page 25 of Duke of Bronze
CHAPTER 25
C olin fixed his expression into one of practiced cordiality, carefully masking the unease stirring within him as he faced Roderick.
Roderick hesitated briefly, an uncomfortable pause filling the air before he finally spoke. "I find myself in Kent for discussions regarding potential sponsorships, Your Grace," he explained stiffly. "Upon hearing of your house party, I thought it only proper to pay my respects. I hope you do not find my intrusion disagreeable."
Colin studied Roderick carefully, noting the man's unusual reticence. The explanation seemed plausible yet lacked sincerity—Roderick had never previously shown interest in paying casual social calls, especially not to him. Still, manners dictated he respond in kind.
"Not at all," Colin replied smoothly, despite the suspicion coiling tightly in his chest. "You are most welcome here. Allow me to arrange a room for you. The countryside provides a refreshing respite from Town, as I am sure you would appreciate."
Roderick inclined his head slightly. "That is very generous of you, Your Grace. Thank you."
Colin tugged firmly on the bell-pull, and moments later, Graves appeared at the doorway.
"Graves, see to it that a comfortable chamber is prepared promptly for Mr. Millard. Ensure he has everything he might require."
"Certainly, Your Grace," Graves responded with his usual calm efficiency, guiding Roderick from the room.
As they exited, Morgan appeared at the threshold, nearly colliding with them. His eyes widened in evident astonishment, moving from Roderick's departing form back to Colin, a flash of recognition clearly crossing his features.
"Morgan?" Colin prompted quietly, concern sharpening his voice as his friend continued to stare after Roderick's retreating figure.
Morgan blinked, quickly regaining his composure. "What business could you possibly have with the Mighty Stone, Colin?" he asked incredulously.
Colin stiffened, a sudden tension gripping him at Morgan's curious reference. "You know him?" he asked sharply, feeling an unwelcome dread begin to gather.
"Not personally—certainly not as intimately as you appear to—but who has not heard of the Mighty Stone?" Morgan replied with evident curiosity.
Colin frowned, irritation and confusion amalgamating within him. It seemed absurd that everyone around him knew about Millard, the so-called Mighty Stone, except him. And when the revelation finally came, it had arrived in the worst possible manner—a ravaged Lydia, frightened and vulnerable, her words echoing painfully in his ears.
"The man who brought you to me is your brother."
Colin's jaw tightened slightly, his hand curling into a fist at his side as he struggled to dismiss the distressing image.
Morgan, oblivious to Colin's internal turmoil, pressed further. "But tell me, Colin, what business could have possibly brought the Mighty Stone here, to your very doorstep?"
Desperation surged through Colin, and he quickly searched his mind for a plausible explanation. "I am considering sponsoring his sporting events," he replied smoothly, forcing his tone into indifference. "I summoned him to discuss potential arrangements."
Morgan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Sponsorship? You?"
Colin managed a faintly amused smile. "And why not? Investing in sports seems a pleasant enough diversion; not to mention a potentially profitable venture."
Morgan nodded slowly, seeming to accept the explanation. "Indeed, it could be rather lucrative."
Colin sighed in relief. He realized suddenly that this fabricated story might just be the key to deflecting unwelcome speculation from his other guests as well. Millard's arrival had not gone unnoticed; whispers and speculations would soon follow if he did not manage the situation carefully.
"Yes," Colin affirmed thoughtfully, "perhaps it is time I announced this new venture to our friends at dinner. Better to quell curiosity before idle gossip has the chance to thrive."
Morgan smiled approvingly. "A wise strategy. Perhaps I might join you in this venture myself."
"You would be most welcome," Colin assured him, feeling a pang of genuine consideration. Perhaps sponsoring Millard would indeed be a fitting way to provide the support his illegitimate brother had been denied by their father. God knew Millard deserved better circumstances than those he had been dealt.
Yet a nagging doubt lingered persistently in Colin's mind. Sponsorship was one matter—but legitimacy was another entirely. His dukedom loomed ominously in his thoughts, and he found himself wrestling with uncomfortable suspicions. And then, unbidden, Anna's image arose.
What exactly was Anna's connection to Millard? The question disturbed him far more deeply than he wished to admit.
Anna's mind betrayed her at every turn. No matter how she tried to banish the thought, the image persisted—Fiona's delicate hand resting upon Colin's arm as he escorted her toward the gardens. The easy way they walked together, the way Fiona had smiled up at him, poised and elegant, as though she belonged there.
Something unpleasant curled in Anna's stomach, a churning disquiet that made her lips press into a firm line. It was foolish. Utterly ridiculous. And yet, the acrid taste of resentment coated her tongue, unfamiliar and most unwelcome.
What in heaven's name was wrong with her? Why did this trouble her so?
You are overthinking, Anna. Yes, that was all. A bout of weariness, perhaps. Nothing more than an overreaction brought on by travel and the bustle of arriving at Copperton Hall. That, surely, must be the reason.
And yet, she had spent the past hour in the conservatory, deliberately keeping to herself. Or rather, if she were honest, avoiding her friends—Fiona, most particularly. A notion so absurd, she very nearly scoffed aloud at herself.
You are being utterly ridiculous.
The fragrant air of the conservatory, thick with the scent of citrus and fresh earth, should have been soothing. It usually was. Yet today, even amidst the lush greenery and gentle warmth, she found no peace.
A sudden rustling nearby startled her from her thoughts. Anna lifted her head, frowning slightly as she turned toward the sound.
And then she froze, her breath catching in her throat.
"Roderick?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper, shock rippling through her as the man before her stepped into view.
His stride hesitated for the briefest of moments, his own surprise evident in the slight widening of his eyes.
"Anna," Roderick said, recovering from his initial surprise. "I had no idea you were here." He hesitated, then added with a sheepish smile, "Then again, I suppose I should have expected as much. A gathering of the aristocracy, after all."
Anna blinked, still caught off guard, but as the moment settled, a genuine smile curved her lips. "What are you doing here?" she asked, warmth threading through her voice. Whatever the circumstances of his presence, she was glad to see him.
Roderick shifted his stance slightly, his gaze slipping away before he answered. "Business. I have been in the country for sponsorship meetings."
"My, what a most unexpected delight." Anna clasped her hands before her, her earlier disquiet momentarily forgotten. "Would I be correct in assuming that His Grace is among those interested in your cause?" She could think of no other reason for Roderick to be at Copperton Hall.
He cleared his throat, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. "Yes," he said after a moment, though he did not quite meet her gaze.
Anna frowned slightly, sensing something amiss, but before she could question it, she asked instead, "And the family? How are they?"
His features softened, and he nodded. "Much the same as when you last saw them. They are well."
Anna sighed in relief, but her chest tightened as another name came to mind. "And Lydia?"
Roderick sighed, a shadow passing over his face. "I am afraid it is always a decline with her." His voice was low, carrying the weight of quiet resignation.
Anna's heart clenched. "I am so sorry," she whispered, meaning it with every fiber of her being.
Roderick gave a small, almost wistful smile. "It is life."
"It is unfair ," Anna corrected, her voice gentle but firm. "You deserve better. She deserves better."
He let out a soft chuckle, though there was little mirth in it. "You are too kind, Anna. If only fate possessed some of your heart."
A moment of silence passed between them, thick with unspoken thoughts. Then, with a noticeable effort, Roderick shifted the conversation. "And how do you find this grand affair so far?"
Anna noted his deliberate attempt to steer the discussion elsewhere, but she allowed it. For now.
She shrugged lightly, though her earlier ease had begun to wane. "It is tolerable," she murmured, her thoughts drifting back—unbidden and unwelcome—to Colin and Fiona.
"Well, that does not sound like a promising endorsement," Roderick observed lightly, tilting his head as he studied Anna.
"Should I be concerned for my own entertainment then?" he added with a teasing glint in his eyes.
Anna laughed, the tension that had lingered in her chest loosening just a fraction. "You may find yourself in need of your own diversions, I suppose. Unless, of course, you count tolerable company as amusement."
"Ah," Roderick mused. "Then I should count myself fortunate indeed."
Their laughter melded into easy conversation, and Anna found herself grateful for his presence that afternoon, a welcome distraction from thoughts she had no wish to entertain.
By dinner, Copperton Hall was abuzz with its usual energy, the grand dining room alive with the hum of conversation and the clinking of fine crystal. When Colin rose to speak, the room hushed, all eyes turning toward the Duke as he made an announcement of particular significance.
Colin rose from his seat, his expression as composed as ever as he surveyed the gathered guests. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice carrying easily across the dining room. "It is my pleasure to introduce Mr. Roderick Millard. Some of you may already be familiar with his name—or rather, his moniker in the world of sport."
A murmur of interest rippled through the guests, and Roderick inclined his head in acknowledgment, though Anna noticed the stiffness in the motion.
"The Mighty Stone," Colin continued, "is a fighter of great skill and reputation, and I am pleased to lend my support to his future endeavors. Sponsorship, as many of you are aware, is key in securing a promising career, and I have decided to invest in his talents."
Polite applause followed, the sound reverberating through the grand dining hall. Yet, as Anna observed the exchange between Colin and Roderick, something about it felt…off. Roderick's expression, though outwardly composed, lacked any true ease. There was no pride, no satisfaction—only something tightly held beneath the surface. And Colin, though ever the gracious host, seemed to watch Roderick too keenly, as if waiting for some unspoken response.
Why did it feel like there was more to this arrangement than what had just been declared?
After dinner, Fiona and Hester had occupied themselves with a game of cards, their quiet murmurs mingling with the low chatter in the drawing room. But soon enough, Hester sighed, pushing back from the table.
"I must take a moment's respite," she announced, pressing a delicate hand to her temple. "I believe I have indulged in too much wine."
Anna chuckled at her friend's dramatics, but before she could respond, movement at the doorway caught her attention.
Colin entered the room with an air of casual distraction, his gaze sweeping over the gathering as though in search of something—or someone. Anna's breath hitched slightly before she could chide herself for it.
"Pardon my intrusion, ladies," he said smoothly, already inclining his head in preparation to exit.
But before he could make his escape, a sharp-eyed matron fixed him with a knowing smile. "Ah, Your Grace," she tutted. "We see how you favor the gentlemen, but do allow us to claim a bit of your time, will you? It is rather unfair to leave us to our own devices while you play the gracious host elsewhere."
A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the room, and Anna's lips twitched, though she said nothing.
Colin hesitated briefly, but when another woman suggested a game of cards, he was left with little room to refuse.
"Well, then," he conceded with a resigned smile. "Who shall I be playing against?"
Hester's empty chair was promptly indicated, and before Anna could fully process what was happening, Colin had moved to take the vacated seat opposite Fiona.
As he settled, his gaze met Anna's briefly—just briefly. But then Fiona spoke, effortlessly gathering the cards into a neat shuffle, and his attention shifted.
Anna pressed her lips together and willed herself to look away. But the unpleasant tightness in her chest had returned, settling over her like an unwelcome blanket.
She despised this feeling.
And worse still, she despised that she had no name for it.
Suddenly feeling suffocated, Anna decided to seek the retiring room. But she found herself retiring to her chambers for the night instead.
Why was she so bothered by Colin's interactions with Fiona?