Page 31 of Duke of Bronze
Morgan smirked. "Hardly. My wife was perusing them over breakfast, and I confess, I could not help but overhear a word or two."
"Ah, so you are now a passive consumer of gossip," Colin muttered, leaning back in his chair.
Morgan's gaze drifted to the abandonedMayfair Gazetteon the table. Without hesitation, he reached for it, flipping the pages as though the matter concerned him greatly. "I see you are keeping abreast of the latest on-dits as well."
Colin scoffed. "I was unaware you had developed such an interest in the idle musings of society."
"Perhaps I should pay it more mind now." Morgan scanned the page with far too much amusement.
Colin narrowed his gaze. "Why? Because I have suddenly become the object of society's speculation?"
Morgan lifted a brow, his grin nothing short of insufferable. "Hardly any speculation, I would say. Though I daresay it would be remiss of me not to join the rest of thetonin contemplating my dear friend's matrimonial prospects."
Colin let out a long-suffering sigh. "You are intolerable."
Morgan set the paper aside with an exaggerated shake of his head. "Society does have an undeniable talent for gossip-mongering," he mused.
Colin smirked. "Which you appear to have acquired now as well."
The two shared a laugh, the easy camaraderie of years of friendship settling between them.
"Whatever my talents may be," Morgan continued, "they are nothing compared to your undeniable skill in keeping the ladies entertained. If one were to believe these gossip sheets, you had the most marvelous time with Lady Anna."
Colin shrugged, forcing his features into a mask of nonchalance. "A bit of amusement and adventure—are those not the ultimate goals?"
In truth, he had enjoyed himself far more than he had anticipated. Until, of course, he had very nearly succumbed to temptation. The memory of Anna's face so close to his, of that almost-kiss, lurked in the recesses of his mind, refusing to be dismissed.
Morgan's eyes gleamed. "Ah, but I was under the impression the ultimate goal was to find oneself in the Parson's mousetrap."
Colin leveled a glare at his friend. "Shall I have the butler escort you out now?"
Morgan chuckled. "That would be terribly inhospitable of you."
Colin sighed but could not keep the smirk from his lips. Their laughter faded, and the room settled into a momentary hush. Then Morgan leaned forward, his expression shifting into something far more serious.
"But on a more pressing note, my friend," he said without his usual levity.
Colin stilled. He had known where this conversation was headed the moment Morgan had walked through his door, yet he had hoped, however foolishly, to avoid it.
"You must take care not to let yourself be carried away by these… adventures," Morgan continued. "Society will talk, of course, but at the end of it all, you have a duty to see fulfilled. You must find a duchess, Colin. She will not simply appear before you."
Colin rubbed a hand along his jaw. "I am well aware."
"Then act like it."
A beat passed before Colin lifted his head, forcing his easy smile back into place. "And who is to say I cannot do both at the same time?" He gave his friend a roguish wink, but beneath his sprightly facade, a vague sense of dread lurked.
But he supposed duty was duty. And he owed it to the Copperton title to seek a duchess.
CHAPTER 13
Anna pressed a hand to her cheek as she approached the drawing room, shaking her head in self-reproach. It was unpardonable, this warmth that refused to dissipate, lingering like the embers of a fire she had no desire to stoke. The mere thought of Copperton's charms—superficial as they were—having any effect on her was maddening. And yet, if she were to be wholly honest with herself, there was something almost... pleasant about it.
No. Absolutely not. There is nothing pleasant about it. It is irritation, that is all.
"Oh, I cannot believe you did this to me, Anna!"
Anna barely had a moment to gather her wits before her aunt's scandalized voice rang through the air. She lifted her gaze just as Petunia De Neve stormed into the drawing room, brandishing a crumpled paper like a weapon of war.
