Page 17 of Duke of Bronze
"Success?"
"Oh, indeed." Fisher nodded solemnly. "There are those who believe you may be the one—the only one—capable of taming the Wild Spinster." He paused, then added quickly, "Their words, not mine."
"Preposterous."
"Quite so," Fisher agreed, finishing the last knot and stepping back to admire his work. "I mean, when has a rake ever done the taming? We all know the situation is the reverse. Perhaps you have been miscast in their little drama, Your Grace."
Colin shot him a narrow-eyed look, though amusement tugged at the corners of his lips. "You are growing dangerously comfortable, Fisher."
"Why, Your Grace," Fisher laughed, "I exist to serve, but I do take great pride in my secondary duty as court jester."
"Remind me to reduce your wages," Colin let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in indulgent exasperation.
"Oh, but then how should I afford the latest editions of the London Gazette?" Fisher lamented. "Speaking of which—" He quickly produced a folded sheet of newsprint from the nearby dresser. "I took the liberty of acquiring this morning's gossip rag for your amusement."
Colin eyed the proffered paper as though it might burst into flames. "You know I care nothing for such idle nonsense."
Fisher merely grinned. "Then you had best start caring now, Your Grace. All of London is speaking of you and your Wild Spinster."
Colin snatched it. The moment his gaze moved over the inked words, he let out a breath. Fisher had, for once, not exaggerated. Society's insufferable penchant for speculation had turned five outings into something far more outrageous. And he had a feeling Anna would not be pleased.
"And they print these absurdities every morning?" Colin asked, casting the offending paper aside.
"Oh, indeed, Your Grace," Fisher nodded. "And now that I know of your growing interest, I shall make certain to procure a copy for you daily." He straightened, as if struck by inspiration. "Even if you lack the time to read it, I shall read it on your behalf and recite all relevant details at breakfast."
"God help me." Colin pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Such devotion ought to warrant an increase in my wages, wouldn't you agree, Your Grace?"
Colin shot him a flat look. "It might, were I inclined to reward meddling."
"Ah, but is it meddling when it is done inyourbest interest?" Fisher asked, folding a garment. "Society will talk, Your Grace. You may as well be informed."
"If only you performed your actual duties with such diligence," Colin said, shaking his head.
Fisher laughed but wisely returned to his work, smoothing out a waistcoat with meticulous precision.
Satisfied that his valet was, at least momentarily, occupied, Colin turned his thoughts back to his plans. He ran through the details of his first outing once more in his mind and smiled.Anna should love this.
He marched out of the dressing room. "I shall be attending to some business this afternoon."
Fisher, now arranging his boots, nodded. "Very well, Your Grace."
A knock sounded at the bedchamber door as he was approaching it. "Enter," he called.
The butler, Wilson, walked in, holding what appeared to be a note on a silver platter. He bowed. "A message for you, Your Grace."
Colin did not need to be told from whom the note was as he picked it up. He unfolded the parchment, and read:
The Flying Crow. This afternoon. Come alone. Dress accordingly. You must look nothing like a duke.
—R.M
Colin released a breath. This was a demand, not a request.Who is this man to order me?
He turned on his heel and strode to the dressing room where Fisher was still folding clothes.
"Fisher, do I own anything that could pass for plain clothes?"
