Page 30 of Duke of Bronze

CHAPTER 30

" I am offering you sponsorship," Colin stated plainly. "A legitimate arrangement that will ensure your career flourishes."

"No."

The response was immediate, firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

Colin blinked, caught off guard by the outright rejection. "At least take a moment to think on it."

"There is no need." Roderick's voice remained flat, unyielding. "One only contemplates when there exists a possibility of acceptance. I do not entertain such a possibility, therefore, there is nothing to consider."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension. Colin let out a breath and let his fingers tap against the polished surface of his desk. He studied the man before him—the firm set of his jaw, the unwavering look in his eyes—and realized that there was a question he had yet to ask.

"Why do you dislike me so?" he asked at last.

A muscle in Roderick's jaw twitched. "Dislike?" He let out a short, humorless breath. "There is no sentiment in our association, Your Grace. Affection and resentment have no place in what is, at its core, a mere arrangement. Do you not agree?"

Colin tilted his head slightly, considering the words. He was beginning to understand.

Where Lydia wished to reunite her son with the only family he had left, it was becoming increasingly apparent that Roderick had no such inclination. He refused to acknowledge the connection, resisted any suggestion of it.

And if Colin was being honest with himself, he had yet to make sense of his own feelings on the matter. He did not know what it meant to suddenly find himself with a brother—an unknown, estranged brother, born of circumstances neither of their makings.

But he did know one thing: Roderick had been wronged. He had been cast aside—disregarded by the very man who should have claimed him. And for that, Colin felt something akin to regret. A need, perhaps, to right what had been so callously done.

"Whatever the case may be," Colin said at last, his voice measured, "this sponsorship is business. You reject it outright, without a second thought—if that is not sentiment, then what is?"

Roderick's gaze darkened slightly. "I am certain there are far more suitable places that would benefit from Your Grace's charity."

"My offer is not charity," Colin insisted.

"Is it not?" Roderick countered, his voice deceptively calm.

Colin opened his mouth, then closed it, finding—rather unexpectedly—that he had no immediate response. It was not often he was rendered speechless, yet here he was, unable to summon a single convincing retort.

Roderick's gaze remained unwavering. "I appreciate the sentiment, Your Grace," he said, sounding polite but cool. "Truly, I do. But I have no desire for your sullied favors."

Colin's brows drew together. "Sullied?"

Roderick rose from his chair, moving with a deliberate grace. "I am perfectly content with my career as it stands. I have fought for every inch of ground I possess, and I shall continue to do so without the assistance of a duke's charity."

There was no mistaking the edge in his voice now; the tightly leashed pride and the quiet fury simmering beneath the surface. The tension between them thickened as Roderick inclined his head in the barest semblance of courtesy. "Good afternoon, Your Grace."

And with that, he turned and strode from the study, leaving Colin sitting behind his desk, fingers curled around the arms of his chair, watching as the door shut firmly behind him.

Annoyance and frustration settled in his chest. Had he just offended the man he had sought to help?

Anna was making her way back to the house after a leisurely stroll through the gardens when a familiar figure caught her eye through the glass panes of the conservatory. She paused, tilting her head slightly before stepping inside.

"It appears that I am the one interrupting your solitude today," she remarked lightly, joining Roderick amidst the lush greenery.

He offered her a wan smile but said nothing at first.

Anna's brows drew together in quiet concern. "Is everything quite alright?"

Roderick exhaled, his gaze fixed on the leaves of a potted fern as though deep in thought. "I suppose one makes plans, yet fate always seems determined to deal a different hand."

Anna studied him carefully, sensing there was more beneath his words. "That is rather cryptic," she observed. "Would you care to elaborate?"

He hesitated for a fraction of a moment before answering. "Suffice it to say that my sponsorship dealings have not unfolded as I expected."

"Never say the sponsors are pulling out?" Anna's concern was deepening.

"On the contrary," Roderick gave a humorless little snort, his expression unreadable. "I have received more offers."

Anna blinked. "Then I do not see the difficulty. Is that not cause for celebration?"

"Not if they see me as a charity case," he replied, his eyes flashing with unmistakable displeasure.

She frowned slightly. "What makes you think they do?"

"I do not think it—I know it," he bit out. "Even from the way the latest offer was made, the intent was clear."

Anna's lips parted slightly, but she was unsure of what to say. There was a note in his voice, in the rigid set of his shoulders, that made her chest tighten.

He felt insulted .

"Far too often, we presume to know the minds of others," Anna said gently. "That we may discern their opinions, their judgments—when, in truth, we are captives of our own conjectures. And more frequently than not, such suppositions prove false."

She held Roderick's gaze, willing him to listen. "Do not let unfounded suspicions make you forfeit a good opportunity, Roderick. You have worked far too hard and come too far to let pride stand in your way now."

Roderick's expression darkened with thought, his jaw tightening. A long silence stretched between them before he finally exhaled, his voice quieter than before. "I must leave."

Anna stilled. "Leave?"

"There is nothing for me here," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Coming was a mistake."

Anna frowned. "Is your career a mistake, Roderick?"

His head snapped up, eyes narrowing slightly at the question. "My career is my priority—after my family," he corrected. "It is my life, Anna. Not a mistake. And I love every aspect of it."

"Which is why you have labored unceasingly to refine your craft," she urged.

A glimmer of confusion passed over his features, but he gave a small nod, nonetheless.

Anna took a careful step closer. "Your reputation as the Mighty Stone was not bestowed upon you, nor was it a stroke of fortune. You built it, Roderick. With your own hands, your own sweat, your own blood. You have endured more than most men can fathom, and still, you rise." She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. "Sponsorship is not charity. It is not a handout. It is a recognition of your achievements—a reward for your labor. And if you reject it on the grounds of pride, then you are, in essence, rejecting the worth of your own hard work."

She allowed her words to linger, trusting that they would take root within him.

"This is a certain matter you earned , Roderick," she urged, her voice softer now. "Take it. And feel no shame for doing so."

Roderick did not respond immediately. His gaze drifted downward, his fingers flexing at his sides as though weighing her words.

Anna did not press him further. She could see the contemplation in his features, the slow unraveling of his stubborn resolve. And with that, she allowed herself a small glimmer of hope.

He would think on it. And perhaps, in time, he would accept it.

The morning after his conversation with Roderick, Colin sat in his study, attempting to focus on his ledgers. He had spent the better part of the morning immersed in calculations, yet his mind drifted, revisiting the previous day's exchange.

A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Enter," he called, setting his quill aside. He expected a servant or perhaps Fisher with the morning's correspondence. What he did not expect was Roderick.

The fighter stepped inside, his expression unreadable.

"Pardon my intrusion," Roderick said.

Colin leaned back slightly, regarding him with curiosity. He had not anticipated seeing him again so soon—if at all. Hope sparked within him. Had Anna's words last night swayed him after all? Had he reconsidered the offer?

But the moment was fleeting.

"I have come to take my leave," Roderick announced. "I return to London this afternoon."

Colin felt the ember of hope snuffed out at once. He had thought Roderick might have relented; that he might accept the opportunity being extended to him. Instead, he was running.

Roderick's voice was steady as he continued. "I wished to thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace. You were under no obligation to invite me, let alone extend such courtesies."

Colin inclined his head. "You need not thank me."

He studied the man before him, sensing there would be no convincing him otherwise. The disappointment sat heavy in his chest, but he masked it well. If Roderick wished to go, Colin would not beg him to stay.

"I wish you the very best in all your endeavors," Colin said instead.

Roderick gave a curt nod, but his posture shifted, a rare hesitation passing over his features.

That was new.

For a man who always carried himself with unwavering certainty—even when rejecting an offer of considerable merit—this moment of reluctance struck Colin as odd.

Roderick looked as though he had more to say, his lips pressing together as he weighed his words. Colin remained silent, watching, waiting. Just when he began to believe Roderick would simply bid him farewell and leave, the fighter exhaled, as if bracing himself.

"The truth is," Roderick said at last, "I was never in the country for sponsorship meetings."

Colin's brows lifted in mild surprise.

"I lied."

Colin straightened in his chair. "Did you?"

Roderick nodded. "Lydia sent me. She wished for me to find you. To… mend things."

Colin had thought himself prepared for anything, but this? This was unexpected. Something tightened in his chest, unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

He had suspected, of course. But hearing the confirmation aloud made it real in a way he had not anticipated.

"It does not have to be a lie," Colin said at last, his voice even. "You could still make use of this visit."

Roderick's gaze flashed with uncertainty, and his brows drew downward.

"My offer remains," Colin continued. "The choice, however, is yours."

For the first time, Roderick offered him a smile. It was faint, barely more than a shadow of expression, but it was there, nonetheless.

He did not acknowledge Colin's offer, neither accepting nor rejecting it outright as he had before. Instead, he inclined his head slightly, his gaze thoughtful.

"I apologize for intruding upon your hospitality uninvited," Roderick said at last.

"There has been no intrusion," Colin replied evenly. "You were welcomed."

Roderick studied him for a moment before exhaling. "Do not feel obligated to me. Or my family." His voice was quieter now, measured. "I did not seek you out expecting anything. I was merely fulfilling my mother's final wishes."

Colin's fingers curled slightly at his sides, though his face remained unreadable. "There will be a closing ball before the house party concludes," he said. "You should stay for it. Leave after, if you must."

Roderick's lips twitched, though it was not quite amusement. "I appreciate the sentiment," he said, "but this is farewell, Copperton."

He gave a curt bow, turned on his heel, and strode from the study without another word.