Page 29 of Duke of Bronze
Colin sat back, drumming his fingers against the armrest of his chair as he considered the implications. A woman hidden away. A message concerning his father. And a man willing to sever ties over some unknown quarrel.
What does Lydia know?
"What else?"
Fisher shifted his weight and glanced momentarily at the floor before clearing his throat. "I saw someone else. A woman."
Colin frowned. "And?"
"She looked exactly like…"
Colin's stomach tightened. "Lady Anna Sutton."
Fisher gave a single nod. "Yes, Your Grace."
His thoughts raced.
If I thought I saw her, and now Fisher believes he did too, then she must have been there.
"Are you certain?"
"I am, Your Grace. And she was coming out of Roderick's house."
"She knows Roderick?" The words left him before he had time to fully process them.
Colin sat motionless for a long moment, absorbing the revelation. He could not make sense of it. Anna, in Whitechapel, and she seemed to be linked to Roderick.How does my own mystery tie to her?
He looked up at Fisher at last. "We need to get to the bottom of this. We need to find the truth."
CHAPTER 12
Why does she haunt me so?
Colin sighed and pressed his thumb against his temple as though the pressure might banish the thought. It did not. It never did.
Lady Anna Sutton was proving to be a singular sort of torment. She was in his mind when he sat in quiet contemplation, in his thoughts when he should be otherwise engaged, and—most damning of all—she lingered in the most unguarded corners of his imagination.
He had nearly kissed her.
He had wanted to. More than he cared to admit. And even now, seated at his desk with contracts, correspondence, and ledgers demanding his attention, the memory of her lips—so near, so temptingly close—refused to be exorcised from his mind.
With a muttered curse, he dragged his focus back to the stack of documents before him. He had responsibilities, estates to manage, and yet?—
His hand stilled over a particular set of papers.
A property. One he had not visited in years, but one he recalled well. It had a lake. A rather magnificent one, if memory served.
Anna would like it.
The thought came so swiftly, so effortlessly, that it startled him. He had spent precisely none of his time before this absurd arrangement wondering what might please a woman beyond the obvious. And yet, here he was, contemplating whether a particular location would suit her tastes.
He could already see it—her delight at the water, the sun glinting off its surface as she stood at the bank, her dogs circling her feet, her laughter ringing out?—
Devil take it. He was doing it again.
With an audible sigh, he rubbed at his jaw, as if the motion alone could rid him of his newfound affliction. The sharp rap of a knock at the door prevented him from further berating himself.
"Enter," he called, rolling his shoulders as he braced himself for yet another distraction.
