Page 40 of Duke of Bronze
She had nearly made her escape when?—
"Anna."
She froze mid-step. Her father.
Her pulse gave a mortifying little jolt before she turned to face him, schooling her expression into one of perfect ease. "Papa," she greeted. "I did not realize you had returned so soon."
Sebastian was shrugging into his greatcoat, his sharp eyes assessing her with the shrewdness only a father could possess. "Only briefly," he said, his gaze lowering to the two hounds at her side. "And where, pray, are you off to with Titan and Plato?"
For the first time since conceiving her brilliant plan, uncertainty lodged itself in her chest. Lying to her father had never come easily, nor had it ever been necessary. But today—today was an exception.
"The park," she said, forcing lightness into her tone. "They were restless indoors, and I thought a walk might do them good."
Sebastian's brow furrowed slightly. "And Miss Watson?"
Anna's chin lifted. "Already outside."
A moment passed—one that felt uncomfortably prolonged. But at last, her father nodded, seemingly appeased. "Very well," he said, reaching for his hat. "Do not wander too far."
Anna forced her shoulders to relax. "Of course not, Papa."
Thankfully, the Copperton carriage was not parked directly before the house, a small mercy for which Anna was grateful. At the very least, she would not have to endure the scrutiny of the household staff or—worse—her father should he glance out the window.
The moment she descended the steps, the coachman stepped forth. His gaze briefly settled on Titan and Plato, but if he was surprised by their presence, he wisely chose not to show it. Instead, he assisted her into the carriage.
The journey was uneventful, though Anna found herself peering out of the window often. The streets of London eventually gave way to the less crowded lanes of the outskirts, and with each passing mile, curiosity wound itself around her like an insistent vine.
Where in heaven's name is he taking me?
The question should have alarmed her. Itwouldhave alarmed any sensible woman. And yet, there was no fear curling in her stomach, only a restless sort of apprehension.
What if she had made a mistake by deceiving her father? What if leaving Miss Watson behind had not been a show of independence, but foolishness?
Her grip on the window's edge tightened. But just as quickly as the doubts surfaced, they were dismissed, for through the glass, she caught sight of a tall, broad-shouldered figure waiting ahead.
The carriage slowed. Colin stepped forward just as the door swung open, reaching up to take her hand. "Anna."
She allowed him to assist her down, prepared—despite herself—for the brush of his lips against her knuckles. A great thud interrupted the moment as something large and uncoordinated tumbled from the carriage behind her.
Colin lurched backward, eyes widening in dismay. "Good Lord!"
Plato scrambled to his feet with an eager shake, his massive paws leaving an indelicate print upon Colin's otherwise immaculate boots.
Colin's lips parted in clear outrage. "Youbroughtthe dog?"
Anna, feigning innocence, tilted her head. "Dogs," she corrected, just as Plato attempted to nuzzle against his breeches. She barely had time to smother a laugh before Titan followed in equal enthusiasm, bounding forth with a wagging tail and a woof of satisfaction.
Colin let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before muttering, "I should have known." He briefly closed his eyes, as if summoning patience from the heavens. "Simple instructions. You would endeavor not to follow."
"I was not aware our arrangement required obedience on my part." Anna grinned, utterly unrepentant.
Colin looked into the empty carriage, and his brows furrowed. "Where is your lady's maid?"
Anna gestured toward the enthusiastic pair before them. "I have all the chaperones I require."
For a moment, he simply stared at her. Then he threw back his head and laughed. "You really are more than a handful of a woman, are you not?"
She lifted her chin, refusing to be unsettled by his amusement. Colin's surprise had already faded, replaced by acceptance. He was utterly unbothered by the absence of a proper chaperone. And why should he be? He was a man accustomed to the reckless and the improper.
