Page 5 of Duke of Bronze

CHAPTER 5

" A re you even trying , Caldwell?" Alexander, the Duke of Sterlin, teased, eyeing Colin with undisguised amusement.

Sparring in Gentleman Jackson's was one of the diversions Colin desperately needed this afternoon, and even that wasn't adequate. He shifted his stance, barely dodging Alexander's newest strike.

Colin exhaled, resetting his footing. "Perhaps I am merely giving you a false sense of victory."

"Ah," Alex grinned, throwing another jab, which Colin only just managed to parry. "Or perhaps you are too distracted to put up a proper fight."

Colin scowled, ducking under a swing. "Nonsense."

"Nonsense, indeed. You are distracted," Alex continued, circling him. "Wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Lady Anna, would it?"

Lord's mercy! Colin's grip on his gloves tightened.

She was distracting. She had been from the first moment he laid eyes on her two years ago. A thorn in his side, a challenge he had never quite been able to walk away from. And now, committed to five afternoons of his own choosing, she was proving to be more of a disruption than ever.

His lapse in focus cost him. Alex feinted, then struck cleanly, landing a well-placed hit to his ribs. Colin stumbled back, grunting in pain as his opponent laughed, stepping away with a smug grin.

"Victory," Alex declared, raising his fists in triumph.

Colin straightened, rubbing his side. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

Alex chuckled, removing his gloves. "Oh, I plan to." His expression sobered slightly as he studied Colin. "What has you so preoccupied, then?"

Colin hesitated before asking, "Do you know anyone in the East End by the name of Roderick?"

Alex frowned. "No. Should I?"

Colin nodded as if that had been the expected response. "No, it was a remote possibility."

They cleaned up, changing into fresh clothes before leaving the establishment. The moment they stepped outside, a street urchin darted toward them, his small feet barely making a sound on the cobblestones. The boy was covered in soot and his wide eyes flitted between them. "Which one of you's the Duke?"

"We're both dukes, lad." Alex chuckled and glanced at Colin.

"The Duke of Copper," the boy huffed.

Colin arched a brow. "Copperton, you mean?"

The urchin bobbed his head quickly and thrust out a grubby hand, a folded note clutched in his fingers. Colin took it, but before he could ask a single question, the boy turned on his heel and disappeared into the winding streets.

Like the last, the note bore no address. Annoyance curled in Colin's gut as he unfolded it.

Meet me at the Flying Crow in Whitechapel by sundown.

—R.M

Colin clenched his jaw. Again .

Alex peered over his shoulder. "Another note?"

Colin folded it neatly, tucking it away. "I have somewhere to be."

Alex studied him, his gaze assessing. "Everything all right?"

Colin forced a smile. "Perfectly."

He mounted his horse and rode through the city, a sense of curiosity and suspicion tightening in his ribs. By the time he reached Whitechapel, the sun hung low in the sky.

The Flying Crow was exactly as he had imagined—dim, smoky, and reeking of stale ale. Dismounting, he handed his horse to a youth, pressing a coin into his palm. The boy nodded, leading the animal away.

As Colin stepped inside, every instinct of his sharpened. The air was filled with murmurs, the clink of tankards, and the occasional burst of raucous laughter. Yet, it was the barman's reaction that set him on edge.

The man took one look at him and immediately stepped away from the counter, approaching with a mercenary glint in his eye.

"I am not here to drink," Colin said.

"Of course, Your Grace," the barman greeted, proving he already knew precisely who Colin was.

That did not sit well with him.

Colin studied the man, his fingers twitching at his sides. He should have brought a pistol. These people clearly knew him, but he did not know them. That alone was enough to unnerve him.

The barman proffered a note. "This is for you."

Another bloody one! Colin snatched it, his irritation mounting.

An urgent matter arose within my family. I must attend to it immediately. Forgive me, Your Grace. We shall find another time.

—R.M

Colin exhaled, barely containing his frustration. Who was this Roderick, this coward who dealt only in secret messages and absences?

"Who is he?" He fixed the barman with a pointed stare.

The man's expression was inscrutable. "He will tell you himself when you meet."

Colin's jaw ticked. "Are you protecting him?"

The barman's lips curled slightly. "Should I be, Your Grace?"

The cryptic response only deepened Colin's irritation. Realizing he would get nothing more from the man, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door.

What was this about his father? What business had his father conducted here in life?

"Oh, I am so relieved to see that you have not pulled your hair out after the shock of the auction, Anna dear. Lizzy and I have been positively beside ourselves with worry," Peggy declared, her voice rich with amusement.

Anna had called upon her cousin that afternoon, seeking any and every distraction from the disastrous morning she had endured. The nerve of Copperton. She still could not believe she had allowed herself to be rendered speechless. Speechless! By him, of all people.

"Ablaze?" Anna echoed, arching a brow as she settled more comfortably into her chair. She cooed at the tiny bundle in her arms—Peggy's daughter, little Victoria—whose chubby fingers latched onto the lace of Anna's sleeve. "You exaggerate, Peggy."

Peggy smirked, reclining with the ease of a woman far too entertained. "Do I? I recall a certain someone looking perilously close to combusting before all of London."

"I ought to have set the entirety of that auction ablaze, now that I think about it," Anna mused, stroking Victoria's soft curls.

Peggy laughed. "That, I would have paid to see."

Anna feigned a scandalized expression. "Surely, I am not that bad."

"Oh no," Peggy said, eyes gleaming with mischief. "You are only worse."

Victoria chose that moment to let out a delighted babble, her tiny hands clapping in unknowing approval.

"See? Even little Victoria agrees," Peggy added with a triumphant grin.

"Agreeing with your mother against me, Victoria darling?" Anna peered down at her baby niece, feigning a look of utter betrayal. "Oh, the treachery. You wound me, you little petal."

She pressed a flurry of kisses to the baby's chubby cheeks, drawing forth a string of delighted babbles. The child wriggled happily in her lap, tiny fingers grasping at the lace trim of Anna's sleeve, and she could not help but laugh. Victoria was utterly guileless, and yet, in that moment, she seemed to take great pleasure in conspiring with Peggy against her.

Peggy chuckled, watching the scene unfold with fond amusement. "It appears she has chosen her allegiances well."

Anna sighed theatrically. "Alas, betrayed by my very own family. What is left for me but sorrow?"

Another round of laughter filled the room, light and easy, before Peggy's expression sobered slightly. "But tell me truthfully, Anna; are you truly well with this arrangement?"

Anna let out a breath, adjusting Victoria against her. "I assure you, I am quite well."

Peggy arched a brow. "That is not quite an answer."

Anna hesitated, but only briefly. "As a matter of fact, the Duke called upon me this morning, and we have come to a mutual understanding."

Peggy's brows lifted. " Mutual understanding ?"

Anna nodded, affecting an air of indifference. "It is all quite temporary. He is simply claiming what he rightfully purchased at the auction. Nothing more, nothing less."

Peggy hummed, clearly not convinced.

Anna, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere, pressed on. "Papa was rather hopeful this morning," she admitted, her voice softening. "And Aunt Petunia called during breakfast as well. I fear she is only fueling his delusions." She let out a breath. "I am not getting married."

Peggy regarded her cousin for a long moment before shaking her head with a smile. "You must understand, Anna dear, it is now public knowledge that the Duke is in need of a duchess."

"A duchess he shall find, soon enough—just as soon as he has exhausted his purchase of my time," Anna said swiftly, hoping to put an end to whatever thought was forming behind Peggy's knowing gaze.

"Will he now?" Peggy mused, her brows lifting, lips curving just so, as if she already knew the answer.

Anna's eyes narrowed. "And what, pray, is that supposed to mean?"

Peggy took her time responding, absently smoothing a crease in her dress. "Only that perhaps you ought to keep an open mind as you go through with this arrangement. Do not think of it merely as a transaction from an auction."

Anna's jaw slackened. She stared at her cousin as though she had just proclaimed an undying love for turnips. "Not you too, Peggy," she finally managed, then swallowed.

She had come here seeking a distraction, not yet another person entertaining absurd notions about Copperton.

Had she miscalculated in coming here after all?