Page 98 of Duke of Bronze
He reached into the satchel and withdrew one of the toys—a wooden castle, delicately painted in shades of pink and lilac, with tiny turret windows and golden spires.
"Would the little princess like her very own magical castle?" he asked, offering the toy in his palm with a warm smile.
Her eyes widened, wonder breaking across her face like sunlight, though she made no move to approach. It was clear she wanted to. Desperately. But her feet remained planted, her body poised in hesitance.
Colin watched her throw a glance toward her mother.
Mrs. Millard's face gave little away, but after a moment's pause, she gave the barest nod.
That was all it took.
The girl darted forward, her small arms wrapping around the castle as she pressed it to her chest.
Colin chuckled, the sound soft and genuine, as he patted her head. "And what is the name of this most noble princess?"
"I am Martha," she said proudly. "And my brothers are John and Abraham." She glanced back toward the other room with a conspiratorial grin. "They like knights and pirates."
"Do they now?" Colin said, rising as her voice rang out, calling for her brothers with all the urgency of one who had just discovered treasure.
Within seconds, two boys came bounding through the door, their eyes alight with curiosity.
Colin greeted them with a slight bow. "I believe I have something for brave gentlemen as well."
He handed one a wooden knight atop a painted horse, its shield bearing a crest. To the other, a miniature ship with tiny sails and a makeshift pirate banner.
The boys gasped in delight, clutching their gifts with the reverence only children possessed.
Colin watched them with an unexpected warmth swelling in his chest. Their joy was unfiltered, honest, and entirely contagious.
Dr. Gibson, standing beside him, chuckled softly. "You may have missed your true calling, Your Grace."
Colin smiled. "I daresay this might be more rewarding than half the duties that come with my title."
Mrs. Millard stood at a distance, saying nothing, but her expression had shifted. She remained unreadable, yes—but thoughtful. Contemplative. And the steeliness in her gaze had softened, if only slightly.
"Thank you, sir," the children chorused as Colin rose fully.
The boys offered neat, practiced bows, while little Martha dropped into a clumsy but earnest curtsy.
Dr. Gibson let out another chuckle. "Well-mannered little ones."
Colin nodded, impressed. Despite the modest home and their circumstances, the children had been raised with care. With dignity.
He gave each of them a final tousle of the hair, allowing himself one last smile.
Then, slowly, he turned and made his way to the door.
At the threshold, just as Colin reached for the door, her voice stopped him.
"You shouldn't have done all this," Mrs. Millard said quietly.
He turned to find her standing a few paces back, hands clasped before her, her expression no longer cold or guarded, but softened by a gentler light. There was no disdain in her eyes now, no challenge. Only quiet emotion.
Her voice lacked its usual edge. It was tentative. Honest.
Colin offered her a small nod; nothing grand, nothing rehearsed.
"It's what family does," he said simply.
