Page 9 of Duke of Bronze

CHAPTER 9

R oderick dropped a coin on the table beside his empty tankard and rose. "Keep vigilant if you're carrying anything of value," he warned. "Lots of pickpockets lurking about."

They stepped out, and Colin walked beside Roderick, scanning the faces that passed them by. Life was very different here, and he was quickly realizing how far removed he was from it. He was privileged too, and at the same time, he was not. The luxuries he enjoyed daily seemed unfair.

"Why do they call you Stone?" Colin asked, keeping his voice light.

"Because I don't crumple," Roderick answered. "I'm a pugilist. And not the fancy sort that spars like a girl at Gentleman Jackson's."

Colin smirked. "Ah. So illegal, then."

Roderick chuckled. "Call it what you like. Pays better than sweeping streets."

Colin flexed his fingers. "If you weren't holding me to ransom with whatever you know about my father, I'd show you what real pugilism is."

"You wouldn't stand a chance." Roderick laughed outright, rough and amused.

They turned down a narrow passage, stopping before a small building with cracked walls and chipped plaster. Roderick pushed open the door, and they stepped into a modest dwelling that smelled of old wood and coal.

Children darted through the tiny space, laughing and singing. Colin counted three of them. A little girl squealed and ran straight to Roderick, throwing her arms around his legs. "Papa!"

It did not surprise Colin that Roderick was a father, despite his roughness. A boy followed, gripping his hand. Roderick didn't speak, but his large hands settled gently on their heads. The tenderness of the gesture was at odds with the bruised, hardened man Colin had walked in with.

A woman was crouched over a pot hanging above the hearth. When she turned, her face brightened with a smile when she saw Roderick. "My love, you're back early."

Then her gaze landed on Colin, and the warmth drained from her expression, replaced by wariness. Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Colin took in the space. A single table stood at the center of the room with five chairs around it, and a bed occupied the far corner. It was stifling, impossibly small. How did people live like this? Then a cough sounded from the next room, dry and weak. Colin's gaze shifted to the slightly ajar door, but he saw nothing beyond. Could Lydia be inside?

"He's here to see Lydia," Roderick's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"It is him ?" Roderick's wife gasped. Her husband nodded, and her expression hardened. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Lydia cannot see him. She's asleep. She needs the rest, and her condition is not improving."

Ah, the cough came from Lydia.

"What ails her?" Colin asked.

Silence. No one met his gaze. Damn it all. "Very well, I shall wait for her to wake."

The woman lifted her chin. "You'll have to come back. She's not well enough to see anyone today."

Impatience thudded in Colin's chest, and he endeavored to breathe calmly. You are close. Do not lose your temper now.

Roderick turned to him. "I'll send word when you can return."

Colin studied the room one last time, his instincts prickling. Something was being kept from him. He nodded, then left, his disappointment raw.

He had just stepped out of the house when he caught the most shocking and curious sight.

Anna?

There was no mistaking her. She might be attired in the plainest clothes he'd ever seen—so much so that one could easily mistake her for a commoner, or even a scullery maid—but her bright green eyes and freckled cheeks made her instantly recognizable.

His real curiosity, however, was what in the world she was doing in such an unsavory neighborhood. Certainly not a place for a gently bred lady of her stature.

She was yet to see him, and he took a step to approach her, only to be paused when someone pushing a cart nearly ran him over. "Watch it, man!"

"Beg your pardon," Colin called after him.

By the time he looked back to where he’d seen Anna, she was gone. Almost as though she'd never been there.

Had he just imagined it all then? Was he that plagued by thoughts of her now?

Colin strode into Copperton Hall and found Fisher pacing the front hall, his hands clasped behind him and the sound of his boots echoing through the grand foyer. At the sight of him, Fisher's shoulders relaxed somewhat.

"Thank God, Your Grace. I was beginning to think you'd—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "You've been gone a long while."

"Come with me," Colin ordered, already moving toward his study. Fisher fell into step beside him without hesitation. Once inside, Colin shut the door and turned to his valet. "How well do you know Whitechapel?"

Fisher's brows furrowed. "Not very much. I was born there, but you know I was raised in your stables."

Colin nodded. "Do you still have friends there?"

"Yes, I have a few friends there," Fisher confirmed. "What is it you wish to know?"

Colin removed the pistol he had traveled with and placed it in a drawer of his desk before sitting behind the massive oak table. "Do you know a man by the name of Roderick Millard?"

Fisher's eyes widened. "The Mighty Stone?"

"Ah, so you do know him."

Fisher let out a low whistle. "Everyone in Whitechapel knows Stone. Reigning champion and undefeated for five years. A bruiser through and through!"

"Interesting… what else?"

"He has a wife and three children. Why do you ask, Your Grace?"

"He's been writing to me," Colin said. "There is something he and a woman named Lydia wish to tell me about my late father. But Lydia is too unwell to speak."

"Lydia? Never heard of her. But if she lives with Roderick, I can find out."

Colin inclined his head. "Do that, but be discreet. I don't wish for this matter to gain any unnecessary attention."

Fisher nodded. "I'll see what I can learn."

As he moved toward the door, Colin added, "Oh, and compensate Robinson for the clothes. I'll not be returning them. It would seem I have more business in the East End."

Fisher smirked. "I daresay he'll be pleased to know his wardrobe is now of noble distinction."

Colin merely waved him off, waiting until the door closed behind him before exhaling slowly. His mind drifted back to Whitechapel; to the dim room, the sick woman beyond the door, the wary glances exchanged in that tiny home. And then—Anna. Or had it been her? He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was tired, that was all, and his mind was playing tricks on him.

Still, the thought of her lingered.

He needed to see her. Soon. Perhaps the delight of her company would divert his frayed mind.

Our outing is not until tomorrow, but I might be able to see her tonight.

"I did not think you were coming tonight." Morgan approached Colin as he stepped into the ballroom.

"I wasn't," Colin admitted, straightening the cuffs of his coat. "But I changed my mind."

Morgan followed his gaze as it swept across the room. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips. "What—or who—truly changed your mind tonight?"

Colin ignored him, but his answer was evident when his gaze landed on a familiar figure standing amidst a group of ladies. Anna. She was turned away from him, laughing at something one of her companions had said. The sight of her—carefree, alive, radiant—stirred a warm and unwelcome feeling in his chest.

As he strode toward her, the ladies noticed him first. They blushed, some of them giggling as they nudged Anna, who turned toward him with a smile that froze the moment she saw him.

"Your Grace," she said, composing herself and curtsying. "I did not expect you tonight."

"I had no intention of coming," he admitted smoothly, his voice lowering just enough to be intimate. "Until I realized I needed to see your lovely face as much as I need to breathe."

Anna let out a short laugh. "Oh, stop being theatrical!"

He caught her gloved hand and pressed a kiss on her knuckles in greeting. The ballroom hushed, and whispers rippled through the room as he held her gaze. Let them think as they wish! He had never cared for society's speculation before, and he would not start now.

"Are you going to introduce us to your duke, Anna?" one of the ladies around them asked.

With a shake of her head, Anna gestured at them. "Your Grace, may I introduce Lady Hester Jensen, Lady Nancy Gallagher, and Lady Fiona Pierce."

"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, ladies." Colin kissed their hands, but he noticed that Lady Fiona blushed deeply as he greeted her. Colin turned back to Anna and said, "Dance with me."

Her fine brows drew together. "Dancing at balls was not part of our arrangement. People will think?—"

"Let them think," he interrupted smoothly. "Where is your sense of adventure? Do you not enjoy nettling society?"

That made her pause, and a slow smile spread across her rosy lips. "That, I do."

"Then waltz with me."

With an exaggerated sigh of resignation, she placed her hand in his. He led her onto the dance floor and all eyes followed them as the orchestra began to play.

His hand circled her small waist, and her eyes widened a fraction. This sent a thrill of satisfaction through him, and he drew her close. Leading her through the most intimate dance of the ball was not part of his plans tonight, but planning was futile where she was concerned.

As they moved together, Colin noted the delightful color on her cheeks. "You're flushed."

"It's warm in here," she countered quickly.

"Or perhaps you are flustered," he teased. "Chased all the way to a ball by a man you claim to have no interest in."

"I was not expecting you."

"Is that so? And how, pray, did you know that I was not coming?"

"Peggy is hosting," she said with a light shrug. "Of course I heard you weren't attending."

"That is hardly a valid reason. I think you have simply been keeping account of my movements."

She scoffed. "Dream until the world ends, Your Grace."

And yet, as they continued to dance, her company made his earlier burdens feel distant. The trouble, however, was that as he gazed into her green eyes, and at the freckles that dusted her nose, he was reminded of the woman in Whitechapel.

"Tell me," he said, pausing to twirl her before continuing. “Have you any pastimes beyond your charities and the art of scandalizing the ton ?"

"A lady cannot share her secrets with strangers."

"Ah, so you do have secrets?" He grinned. "But I am no stranger, Anna. We have known each other for years."

"That means little," she countered. "Seeing someone does not equate knowing them."

"Then allow me these five outings to know you."

She smiled sweetly. "Best of luck with that, my dear Duke."

Colin roared with laughter. "Your dear Duke? I am very flattered."

Anna rolled her eyes. "It was not intended to be a compliment, Colin."

"I shall take it as such."

She playfully swatted his shoulder. "You are drawing attention to us."

"Admit it, you enjoy it."

Her cheeks colored again. "Well, yes, but everything ought to be enjoyed in moderation. I cannot have the ton thinking there is more occurring between us."

"What if there is?" he teased.

"You are an impossible rake, but you cannot charm me."

You just wait, my dear Anna.

When the waltz ended, instead of escorting her back to her friends, Colin led her toward the terrace.

"Colin—" she started to protest, her eyes darting about the room.

"Indulge me," he said. "I find myself in need of your kindness tonight."

She stilled at that, and her eyes softened. Without another word, she followed him out onto the quiet terrace, the night air cool against his skin. They stood side by side, their hands resting on the balustrade. Colin gazed up at the cloudy sky for a moment.

"What is it, Colin?" came Anna's soft voice. "Something is wrong."

He shook his head. He could not tell her. Only Fisher knew the burdens he carried, and even then, Colin had not yet unraveled the depths of it himself. But he wished he could tell Anna. Would she understand? Would she care?

She touched his arm lightly. "Colin?"

He met her gaze, certain that underneath that fierce exterior was a woman with a soft heart. "Have you ever thought you knew someone, only to realize you knew nothing at all?"

She blinked at him. "No, but I do know that it takes a lifetime to truly know someone. And even then, it is hardly enough." She turned to look out at the garden. "And people change. When that happens, it unravels everything you might have known about them."

He smiled. "You ought to write a book on philosophy."

She faced him and tilted her head. "Was that a compliment?"

"Take it as such, if you wish."

For what Colin perceived to be a long moment, they stared at one another, and the air between them grew taut. His heart beat faster, and he could tell she was breathing with more effort in the rise and fall of her chest.

Anna looked away, then broke the spell. "I should return to the ballroom. They will be looking for me."

Colin did not stop her as she disappeared through the doors, leaving him standing alone in the night air.

I do not want to be alone tonight.