Page 88 of Duke of Bronze
"I may need more than a minute," he admitted. "I just—blast it, Anna, I need to speak with you."
There was an odd note in his voice—frustration, certainly. But also something rawer. An undercurrent of desperation that caught her off guard.
She could not speak. Not when her own heart had chosen that moment to begin pounding in her ears.
Why now? What could he possibly say that would change anything?
Before she could formulate an answer, footsteps echoed—hurried, deliberate. A moment later, Fiona rounded the corner, breath a touch uneven, her expression tight with concern.
Anna pulled her wrist free as Fiona came to a stop, one hand clutching the folds of her dress as her gaze flicked between them.
"Oh, there you are, Anna," she said, voice pitched with forced brightness. "I was hoping I might catch you before?—"
She trailed off. Her eyes landed on Colin, then dropped to where his hand had just been.
Surprise registered first.
Followed by something else.
Anna could not name it. But it made her stomach twist, nonetheless.
Colin stepped back then, as though remembering his manners belatedly. Anna did not look at him. She was too busy trying to steady her breathing.
"I beg your pardon for interrupting," Fiona said quickly, the pink blooming across her cheeks betraying her discomfort.
"You did not interrupt anything," Anna replied, sharper than intended. She smoothed her bodice unnecessarily. "I was merely on my way to bed."
Colin opened his mouth. "Anna?—"
"Have a good night," she cut in, the words rushed and brittle. She gave neither of them a backward glance as she swept past.
The following morning brought gray skies and a packing frenzy. Anna sat before the mirror as Miss Watson pinned up the last of her curls when the door opened without a knock.
Fiona entered.
She was still in her morning wrapper, a pale blue with ivory trim, but her posture was anything but relaxed.
Miss Watson, sensing something, curtsied quickly. "Shall I fetch tea, my lady?"
"No, thank you. Leave us, please," Anna murmured.
The door clicked shut.
Fiona remained standing.
"I thought I ought to clarify a few things before we return to London," she said. Her voice was composed, but there was a gravity in it that immediately set Anna on edge.
"There is nothing between me and Copperton. Truly. There never was."
Anna turned back to the mirror, willing her features into impassivity.
"You need not explain yourself to me," she said calmly. "You owe me no such gestures."
"Oh, but I must. I do, in this case," Fiona insisted. She stepped further into the room, clasping her hands before her. "It has been weighing on me."
Anna's eyes flicked to her reflection.
Fiona looked contrite. Earnestly so.
