Page 110 of Duke of Bronze
And froze.
Her eyes landed on the armchair by the hearth, and for a moment, time halted.
"Lydia?"
She heard her own voice, breathless with disbelief.
There, seated beside the fire with a shawl wrapped about her shoulders, was Lydia Millard. Upright. Awake. Alive with color that Anna had thought long fled from her face.
"Yes," Jane said, her voice bright with joy. "She's improving, Anna."
Before Anna could speak again, Roderick appeared from the back room, looking far less grim than she remembered him.
"I'll take that," he said with a small grin, relieving her of the basket she had nearly dropped.
Anna's mouth opened, then closed, as she looked once more at Lydia, who managed a faint, knowing smile from her seat.
"It's all thanks to the Duke," Jane said.
"The Duke?" Anna echoed.
"Copperton," Roderick clarified. "He came by with a doctor. A proper one, too. I was out, but Jane received them. The physician examined Lydia, changed her medicines, and…" He gestured helplessly, as if the results spoke louder than any words could.
"She's been responding well ever since. Thank God," he finished.
Anna could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Colin had come here? With a physician? He had done this?
"He should not have," Jane said quietly, catching Anna's expression. "But he did. Because he has a true heart, that man.And I was no kind soul to him that day. I judged him, spoke harshly even. He bore it all with grace I did not deserve." Her voice faltered, and she glanced at Lydia.
Anna's heart swelled with a rush of emotion so fierce, it nearly stole her breath.
Colin had done this without fanfare, without seeking acknowledgment. She had always known him to be kind, but this… this was something far more profound.
As if moved by invisible threads, she made her way to Lydia's side, her steps slow, her limbs suddenly too heavy. The older woman sat bundled in a thick shawl, her posture frail yet upright, her eyes distant but aware.
"She still says very little," Jane explained gently, following Anna's gaze. "But she can sit up on her own now. She's even managed a few steps—with help, of course. She told us the other day how dreadfully tired she is of that back room. Said she was beginning to feel like a ghost in a box."
Roderick chuckled softly, his voice rough with restrained emotion. "We haven't seen her like this in over a year, Anna."
Anna lowered herself beside Lydia, gently slipping her hand beneath the blankets to find Lydia's own. It was thin, cool, and trembled faintly in hers.
"Oh, Lydia," Anna murmured, brushing her thumb in a slow circle across the back of her hand. "I cannot begin to tell you how glad I am to see you improving."
And Lydia smiled.
It was faint, just a slow twitch of her lips, but it changed her whole face. Anna blinked hard, swallowing the knot in her throat.
"Grandmama is going to be quite well again!" Martha declared with unrestrained glee, spinning through the room as Abraham made an enthusiastic attempt at a jig beside her. John sat nearby, grinning as he watched his siblings carry on.
"As a matter of fact," Jane said, ushering Anna toward the table as they prepared to dine, "the doctor returns every other day. And Lydia's even taken to eating full bowls of soup now."
"I daresay it's a miracle," Roderick added as he pulled the cloth from the basket Anna had brought.
He inhaled deeply, then broke into a grin. "Your cook truly performs alchemy with flour. This smells divine."
With great ceremony, he tore off a hunk of bread, dunked it into his soup, and sighed like a man at peace with the world.
Anna and Jane laughed.
