Page 101 of Duke of Bronze
"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 Withdrawn.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 aboutme?" 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.
