Page 115 of Duke of Bronze
But just as her feet faltered and despair surged?—
A hand shot forward and seized Preston by the collar, halting him with jarring force.
"Unhand the lady," came a voice—quiet, cold, and laced with menace.
Colin.
He stood at Preston's back, his hand fixed like a vice upon the viscount's neck, his breath perilously close to the man's ear.
Anna's knees weakened beneath her.
"By—!" Preston began, but the oath was cut off as Colin's grip tightened, cutting both word and wind.
Anna pressed a trembling hand to her chest, her heart pounding with fear, disbelief, and overwhelming relief.
Preston sputtered incoherently, his face turning a most unbecoming shade of crimson. The sound drew the attention of nearby guests who had previously been too absorbed in their own revelries to notice.
One by one, heads turned.
Brows arched, fans stilled mid-wave, and curious glances swept toward the trio now standing in tense silence.
Preston finally released her wrist, and Colin, after a heartbeat longer, relinquished his hold on the viscount.
"Oh—all is well," Preston stammered, adjusting his collar and giving a laugh that fell utterly flat. "Merely a misunderstanding. Quite harmless, I assure you."
But his words, though breezy in tone, did little to mask the flush of humiliation nor the fury burning in his gaze. He bowed stiffly and turned on his heel, melting into the crowd as swiftly as decorum would allow.
Anna could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, though not from embarrassment. Her pulse pounded with a riot of emotions—anger, mortification, confusion—and she could not bear the weight of so many eyes upon her.
Without a word, she turned on her heel and swept from the ballroom, her slippers barely making a sound on the marble floors as she fled.
She did not stop until the noise of music and conversation had faded into a dull hum behind her. The rear gardens lay in hushed repose, the gentle rustling of leaves the only sound to greet her.
There, amid the shadowed hedges and moonlit blossoms, she finally halted.
Moments later, hurried footsteps echoed along the path, and then?—
"Anna," came Colin's voice, low and taut with worry. "Are you harmed?"
His hand reached for hers.
"Howdareyou?" she snapped, wrenching her hand from his grasp. The fury in her voice was as swift as it was searing.
Colin drew back, visibly stunned.
"Anna—"
"Howdareyou pretend to care?" she interrupted, her voice trembling. "How dare you swoop in and play the gallant when you have done nothing but make me feel as though I matter not at all?"
Her composure, so carefully stitched together these past weeks, unraveled with every syllable.
Tears sprang hot and unbidden to her eyes, tracking silently down her cheeks.
"How dare you save me?" she went on, her voice cracking. "How dare you show me affection when we both know you feel none of it?"
"Where are these accusations springing from? You are making no sense whatsoever, Anna," Colin said, his brow drawn in visible bewilderment.
Anna stared at him, her chest heaving, tears threatening again. He looked genuinely confused—an expression she had rarely seen upon him. But she could not allow herself to believe it. He had to be pretending. Hemustknow what he'd done.
