Page 84 of Duke of Bronze
"And now," Colin continued, "I desire nothing more than to forge my own legacy as Duke. To wield this title with honor; to lead without falling into the same patterns that defined his rule."
Anna turned fully to face him, her expression unreadable for a moment before it softened. "YouareCopperton now, Colin. And you can change that. In fact, I believe you already have. Why, Idaresay you are already leaving a most distinguished mark upon your title.” Anna smiled, recalling his many acts of generosity.
Respectable and admirable indeed.
He had nothing to fear, she thought. He would make a fine Duke—was one already.
"You place too much confidence in me," Colin said with a low chuckle, though a trace of self-effacement lingered in his tone. "There is still much to be done for Copperton. And for the people who depend upon it."
Like securing the ideal duchess to preside over them, Anna reflected abruptly.
The thought struck her so swiftly, so deeply, that she felt an ache settle in her chest. The longing she had been trying to suppress surged forth once again, this time steeped in a quiet despair.
She wanted him.
But she would never be the perfect duchess he required. He would never choose her.
"It would seem Lady Fiona has made quite an impression upon your life as well," she remarked, the words slipping forth before she could restrain them.
Colin turned to her, brows drawing together in visible confusion. "I beg your pardon?"
"She will make you the perfect duchess," Anna clarified, forcing her voice into some semblance of evenness.
His expression darkened at once, a scowl settling upon his features as silence stretched between them.
"Where is this coming from, Anna?" he asked at last, his voice measured, searching.
She averted her gaze, fingers tightening around the terrace railing as though it might steady her tumultuous thoughts. "What I mean is, we have our lives to return to, Colin. Outside of our arrangement, we have different realities. And duties that we must fulfill."
She glanced at him then, searching his gaze for something—anything—to reassure her, to dispel the sorrow pressing down on her chest.
His gaze was unwavering, his expression unreadable, and yet she felt the weight of it, the intensity with which he regarded her. The moment stretched unbearably, her heart pounding against her ribs.
"Anna," he began at last.
"I should go," she interjected hastily, forcing a laugh that rang falsely to her own ears. "It is hardly proper for us to linger here alone."
She turned before he could say more, before she could betray the tumult of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
She had never been one to concern herself unduly with propriety—least of all where Colin was concerned. Their friendship had always existed outside the rigid confines of expectation. But at this moment, she needed any excuse to retreat.
It was too much.
The longing. The aching awareness of what she could never have.
He parted his lips to speak, but she could not give him the chance. She turned sharply on her heel, her heart racing, and walked away without a backward glance.
CHAPTER 32
Anna delayed breakfast as long as decency would allow. She'd feigned interest in her correspondence. Rearranged her gloves. Stared at the same page ofThe Antiquities of Athensfor the better part of half an hour. But at last, hunger had won, and she'd descended the stairs with all the enthusiasm of one walking to the gallows.
She paused just outside the breakfast room, one hand resting lightly on the doorframe. Perhaps—just perhaps—it would be empty this time.
It was not.
Fiona sat by the window, a silver spoon in one hand, and a steaming cup of chocolate in the other. Sunlight bathed her in a golden glow, catching the delicate cream lace of her morning dress. She was reading something—no, not reading. Poring. The thin sheet trembled ever so slightly as she turned a page with what could only be described as reverence.
A gossip rag. Of course.
