Page 31 of Duke of Bronze

CHAPTER 31

T he evening of the closing ball arrived, and Colin found himself scanning the crowd with a restless sort of purpose.

Anna was nowhere to be seen.

A slight frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. She was not ordinarily one to arrive too early to such affairs, but the first dance was soon to begin, and still, she was absent. An odd sense of unease settled in his chest.

His gaze roved over the assembled guests, seeking a familiar face. A shimmer of silk caught his eye, and he turned, finding Lady Fiona standing nearby.

Anna was not with her.

His disappointment was swift and unexpected.

At that precise moment, the first strings of the waltz drifted through the ballroom, filling the air with lilting elegance.

Curious gazes turned toward him. He felt them like a weight, pressing in from all sides.

A gentleman in his position did not stand idle at the opening of a ball. He had been cornered by expectation, and he knew it.

With a breath of resignation, he stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Fiona. Offering a polite bow, he extended his hand. "May I have this dance?"

A gracious smile curved her lips. "It would be my pleasure, Your Grace."

He led her to the dance floor, their movements precise, measured. He had barely settled into the rhythm of the waltz when his gaze drifted once more—this time, to the entrance.

And there she was.

Anna.

Their eyes met across the ballroom, and something within him braced, tightened. A peculiar weight sank into his chest, though he could not name its cause.

Fiona said something then—something he did not quite catch.

Colin forced his attention away from the doorway. Away from the one he had hoped to dance with.

"I beg your pardon," he said, refocusing on Fiona. "Did you say something?"

Fiona let out a quiet chuckle, tilting her head as she regarded him with knowing amusement. "You are quite distracted this evening, Your Grace."

Colin's jaw tightened, but he forced a polite smile. "Am I?"

Her eyes sparkled with something dangerously close to mischief. "Indeed."

He did not reply. Instead, he glanced back toward the entrance, where moments ago, Anna had stood. But now?—

She was gone.

A strange unease settled in his chest, and though he continued the waltz with the precision expected of a gentleman, his mind was elsewhere. His eyes searched the crowd, scanning every corner of the ballroom in quiet desperation.

But she had vanished.

By the time the music faded and the waltz drew to its inevitable end, Colin had already made his decision.

The moment Fiona offered him a final curtsy, he inclined his head in brief acknowledgment and stepped away, offering some mumbled excuse that he did not bother to recall. His legs carried him with uncharacteristic haste as he maneuvered through the ballroom, his gaze sweeping over the assembled guests.

Nothing.

A tight sensation coiled in his chest.

He turned sharply, stepping beyond the main hall, beyond the chatter and laughter, into the quieter corners of the house. He strode through the dimly lit hallways, his polished shoes striking against the marble with determined purpose.

And then?—

At last, he found her.

Anna stood upon the quiet terrace, the moonlight casting a silvery glow upon her figure. The cool evening breeze stirred the tendrils of hair that had slipped free from her carefully arranged coiffure.

A breath he had not realized he was holding left him, shaky and unbidden.

Relief washed over him with startling intensity.

Anna was on the quiet terrace, drawing a slow, steadying breath as the cool night air wrapped around her. She had felt out of place in there. In truth, she felt out of place in the entire house party.

And yet, was this not supposed to be one of her dates with Colin?

An unwelcome image of Fiona in his arms intruded upon her thoughts. Anna clenched her jaw, willing it away, yet the sour taste of it lingered.

With a measured breath, she tilted her head back, her gaze drifting over the vast, star-strewn sky. How had she ended up here? How had everything come to feel so... disjointed?

"The ballroom summons you back," a voice intruded upon her thoughts.

She did not turn; there was no need. "It would not miss me."

"Do not be too certain."

Colin.

He stepped to her side, his gloved hands settling against the railing as he regarded her in quiet contemplation.

Anna finally turned her head, and when her eyes met his, her breath caught. There was an openness to his expression, something steady, something... earnest.

A peculiar warmth stirred within her chest—an unfamiliar sensation she dared not name.

The moment stretched between them, the air thick with something unspoken. It unsettled her, this unfamiliar pull, this ache just beneath the surface. Before it could take root, before she could dwell upon it too long, she wrenched her gaze away, fixing it instead upon the night sky.

The heavens shimmered with a myriad of stars, a celestial embroidery upon the night's sable canvas. So many, and yet, each in its rightful place, forming patterns, weaving constellations, creating a harmony amidst their sheer number.

"Our lives are a little like those stars up there, you see," Anna mused aloud.

"Throughout our lives, we encounter countless souls," Anna said, her gaze still lifted toward the heavens. "Some merely pass through, while others linger, yet each, in some measure, leaves a trace upon us. A little like the stars—fixed or transient, they still occupy their rightful place. Even after they fade from view, their presence lingers, shaping the sky they once adorned."

Colin was silent for a moment before he responded, his voice equally contemplative. "That is much like saying mistakes do not exist. That whatever occurs was always meant to be."

"Precisely." A faint smile touched Anna's lips, though a pensive air lingered about her.

She drew a measured breath, as though fortifying herself before continuing. "All my life, I have longed for new experiences. Independence, above all else." She paused, the night air cool against her skin. "And yet, I find there is only so much control I truly possess over the outcome of my desires."

Colin turned his head, his gaze lingering upon her profile, rendered delicate by the moon's silver glow. "I understand that," he said quietly. "More than you might think."

She cast him a fleeting look, curiosity stirring in her gaze.

"I spent my youth striving to be anything but what my father intended me to be," he admitted. "To be free of the weight of his expectations, of his callous disregard for those he deemed beneath him. He viewed the world through the narrowest of lenses, and I wanted no part in it."

Anna listened, sensing the quiet gravity of his words.

"And now," Colin continued, "I desire nothing more than to forge my own legacy as Duke. To wield this title with honor; to lead without falling into the same patterns that defined his rule."

Anna turned fully to face him, her expression unreadable for a moment before it softened. "You are Copperton now, Colin. And you can change that. In fact, I believe you already have. Why, I daresay you are already leaving a most distinguished mark upon your title.” Anna smiled, recalling his many acts of generosity.

Respectable and admirable indeed.

He had nothing to fear, she thought. He would make a fine Duke—was one already.

"You place too much confidence in me," Colin said with a low chuckle, though a trace of self-effacement lingered in his tone. "There is still much to be done for Copperton. And for the people who depend upon it."

Like securing the ideal duchess to preside over them, Anna reflected abruptly.

The thought struck her so swiftly, so deeply, that she felt an ache settle in her chest. The longing she had been trying to suppress surged forth once again, this time steeped in a quiet despair.

She wanted him.

But she would never be the perfect duchess he required. He would never choose her.

"It would seem Lady Fiona has made quite an impression upon your life as well," she remarked, the words slipping forth before she could restrain them.

Colin turned to her, brows drawing together in visible confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"She will make you the perfect duchess," Anna clarified, forcing her voice into some semblance of evenness.

His expression darkened at once, a scowl settling upon his features as silence stretched between them.

"Where is this coming from, Anna?" he asked at last, his voice measured, searching.

She averted her gaze, fingers tightening around the terrace railing as though it might steady her tumultuous thoughts. "What I mean is, we have our lives to return to, Colin. Outside of our arrangement, we have different realities. And duties that we must fulfill."

She glanced at him then, searching his gaze for something—anything—to reassure her, to dispel the sorrow pressing down on her chest.

His gaze was unwavering, his expression unreadable, and yet she felt the weight of it, the intensity with which he regarded her. The moment stretched unbearably, her heart pounding against her ribs.

"Anna," he began at last.

"I should go," she interjected hastily, forcing a laugh that rang falsely to her own ears. "It is hardly proper for us to linger here alone."

She turned before he could say more, before she could betray the tumult of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

She had never been one to concern herself unduly with propriety—least of all where Colin was concerned. Their friendship had always existed outside the rigid confines of expectation. But at this moment, she needed any excuse to retreat.

It was too much.

The longing. The aching awareness of what she could never have.

He parted his lips to speak, but she could not give him the chance. She turned sharply on her heel, her heart racing, and walked away without a backward glance.