Page 36 of Duke of Bronze

CHAPTER 36

T he gardens were alive with color and movement, as though the entire city had conspired to dazzle. Lanterns swung from the trees in delicate arcs of golden light. Acrobats twisted mid-air, jugglers tossed flaming torches, and a pair of Parisian mimes gestured silently to the delighted crowd.

Anna felt herself smiling unreservedly. It was impossible not to.

She turned to Colin, the glittering spectacle reflecting in her eyes. "This is marvelous."

"Do you like it?" he asked, watching her with a quiet sort of satisfaction.

"I love it," she breathed.

He offered his hand, and she took it, her gloved fingers curling around his with ease. "Come, there's more."

And then he led her—through the crowds, past a fountain lit with floating candles—toward a clearing.

Her steps slowed.

There, rising above the gardens like something out of a dream, was a hot air balloon. Striped in deep green and ivory, its basket gleaming under the lantern light.

"Oh… my goodness," Anna managed, her voice nearly lost to the breeze.

"I am gratified to see that Her Ladyship is finally struck dumb," Colin said, his lips twitching.

She laughed, half dazed, and swatted his arm lightly. "You are insufferable."

"And yet, here you are."

The ascent was smoother than she'd anticipated. Within moments, the gardens fell away beneath them, a patchwork of color and noise receding into the quiet hush of altitude. The city sprawled beneath them like a storybook illustration.

Anna drew closer to the edge, breathless.

"This is…"

"I know," Colin said softly.

She turned toward him then, the wind toying with the curls framing her face.

"I received a letter from Roderick," she said, her tone shifting with the breeze. "He told me everything. And he thanked me. But he ought to thank you."

"There is no need," Colin replied evenly. "It is merely business."

She looked at him askance. "Business?"

He met her gaze fully. "Besides, there is no gratitude between family."

"Family?" she repeated, blinking. The word echoed oddly in her chest.

Colin hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Lydia summoned me. Some weeks ago. I thought her summons odd at first, but I honored it."

Anna waited, silent, sensing the weight behind the words he was carefully choosing.

"She told me everything," Colin said. "And she asked me to know the truth before she passed."

Anna's breath caught.

"She said she knew my father before he assumed the title. When he was simply the heir. They met at the theater—she performed, and he watched. Often. They became… involved."

His voice grew quieter. "She bore him a child. Roderick."

Anna stared, lips parting.

"He vanished from her life when he assumed the title and married my mother. Lydia never heard from him again."

Anna's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, Colin…"

"She raised Roderick alone. No name, no support, nothing. And yet she did it." He looked away briefly, his jaw tight. "He is my elder brother. By two years. And I never knew."

"And Lydia told you all this?"

"She did. She said I had a right to know. That Roderick had a right to know he had a brother." Colin turned to her again, his eyes burning with a fire she hadn't seen before. "It shattered everything I thought I understood about my family. About my father."

Anna reached out instinctively, her hand finding his.

"I have lived my life under a name built on titles and legacy. But I will not carry forward his sins," Colin said. "I promised Lydia I would right the wrongs. Roderick deserves better. His children do. Lydia deserved better too."

Anna's chest squeezed, and she could hardly breathe past the swell of emotion.

And in that moment, she did not see a duke. She saw the man beneath the title. One who had inherited a tarnished legacy—and was doing everything in his power to cleanse it with quiet integrity.

"You've already started," Anna said softly, her hand still resting gently in his. "You're reunited now. That is what matters most."

Colin let out a short chuckle, the corners of his mouth curving with a mixture of amusement and awe. "Thanks to Lydia," he said. "She all but forced Roderick to speak to me. Practically issued it as her last command."

He paused, then added more somberly, "They were… reluctant. Withdrawn. Understandably so."

Anna nodded. "They're a stubborn bunch, aren't they?" she said with a fond smile.

"Fortunately," Colin replied, "I am just as stubborn." He puffed his chest dramatically. "I'm in their lives now, and whether they care for it or not, I shall not leave."

"My, the stubbornness seems to be a family trait," Anna teased.

"Indeed," he said, giving a theatrical tug to the front of his waistcoat, chin lifting with mock pride.

"And I never saw a man gloat so openly about being a mule," she countered, laughing.

"A mule?" He gaped. "You wound me."

"Know another creature more stubborn?"

"How about me ?" he said, utterly indignant, and Anna doubled over with laughter.

Their mirth carried them through the rest of the ride, the breeze catching her laughter and carrying it across the stars.

Once the balloon descended, they made their way back into the heart of the masquerade.

The gardens below had transformed into a world untethered from reality. The anonymity of masks emboldened every movement, every flirtation, every laugh that lingered in the perfumed air. Anna clutched her mask a little tighter as they stepped into the throng, her eyes wide with wonder.

But then, she blinked—and Colin was gone.

She turned quickly, searching. Gentlemen in silver masks passed by in droves, indistinguishable in the blur of light and music. Her heart thudded with quiet urgency.

"Colin?" she called softly, pivoting through the crowd.

A hand clasped her wrist. Firmly.

"Going somewhere, little one?" a voice murmured beside her.

Her breath caught—her mind leapt— Colin?

She turned.

But the man beside her was no duke.

He wore a gold mask. And a smile that chilled her blood. His grip on her wrist tightened.

"Let go," she said, trying to wrench free. "Let go of me."

"Oh, our lady is trying to flee so soon?" another voice joined, slick and amused.

A second man appeared, flanking her other side.

Then a third.

"What are we doing wrong for such a pretty little thing to run from us?" said the third, his leer unmistakable, even through the mask.

Panic flared in Anna's chest.

She tried again to yank her wrist free, but the man only tightened his grip, his fingers digging cruelly into her skin.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, her voice trembling now.

The first man leaned closer, his breath fanning her cheek as he toyed with a lock of her hair.

The other two seized her shoulders, pinning her in place.

She gasped. Terror surged.

Then—

A roar split the night.

"Unhand her."

A figure in a silver mask stormed through the crowd. Colin.

He reached them in an instant and shoved the first man away with a force that sent him staggering.

Anna stumbled back, clutching her throbbing wrist, breath coming in sharp bursts. Colin turned, eyes burning, and raised a fist?—

"Colin," she said quickly, touching his arm.

He halted, barely restrained.

They were already attracting too much attention, and though the masks shielded their identities, she could feel the eyes.

The three cowards, thoroughly rattled, stumbled away into the crowd like vermin exposed to light.

Colin turned to her, his voice tight. "We should leave."

"I'm all right," Anna managed. Her voice shook, but she steadied it. "I don't wish to leave. Not yet."

He looked around, scanning the shadows.

"It doesn't feel safe any longer," he said. "When people are masked, they begin to believe they can become the devil himself and get away with it."

Anna looked up at him, her own heart still racing from the ordeal, but his presence, solid and steady beside her, calmed the worst of the tremors.

"You're here now," she said gently. "It's safe. I feel safe, Colin."

And the moment she spoke those words, she knew them to be true. From the very beginning—whether she'd been scowling at him across a parlor or laughing beside him on a carriage ride—Colin had always, inexplicably, made her feel secure. Shielded. Known.

After some coaxing, she convinced him to stay just a little longer. The night need not end in shadows.

"Dance with me?" he asked, the edge in his voice now softened.

Her lips curved. "Yes."

The music swelled again, and he guided her to the dance floor where the masked crowd spun and swept in elegant circles. Colin's hand found the curve of her waist, warm and steady, while the other held hers in a firm yet gentle grip. Their eyes met.

And that was all it took.

Anna moved with him, the world falling away. The music, the murmurs, the candles flickering like stardust—it all blurred until there was only him. His gaze locked on hers, full of something she dared not name, and she felt weightless in his arms.

But even fairy tales have their clock.

The hour crept upon them, and the final strains of the waltz faded into the night. It was time to return home.

In the quiet carriage, the spell lingered like perfume. Colin stared out the window for a beat before turning to her.

"I cannot believe this was our final outing."

Anna smiled, wistful but true. "Thank you, Colin. Tonight was… unforgettable. These past five outings—they've been the most wonderful of my life."

He gave a small, disbelieving laugh. "No. Thank you , Anna. For giving me the adventure of a lifetime."

She looked at him then, heart aching at how earnestly he spoke.

He went on, "The time I've spent with you—it's been the most fun I've ever had. And that's no trivial thing."

Her heart squeezed. Oh, how she wanted to believe him. To believe that she mattered beyond these moments. That she had meant something.

Then, just as she began to retreat into thought, his hand came to her cheek. Warm. Reverent.

She leaned into it before she could think better of it. Her breath caught as his face inched closer, his gaze dipping to her lips.

He paused there, a whisper away.

Waiting.

If she had told him no, he would have stopped. She knew that. But she didn't.

She couldn't.

And then he kissed her.

Her eyes fluttered shut as bliss swept over her. The feel of his lips against hers, the tenderness in the way he held her—as though she were something precious—it shattered the last of her defenses.

She kissed him back with everything she had. All the ache, the longing, the love she hadn't dared to speak.

But time, cruel thing, intervened.

The carriage slowed.

They pulled apart slowly, the air between them heavier than before.

It was goodbye. She felt it in her bones.

Colin didn't speak. Neither did she. What words could make sense of this?

He helped her down. She gave a small curtsy, her mask in hand, and turned toward the door of her home.

Only when she was within her bedchamber did she let the tears fall.