Page 35 of Duke of Bronze
"A testament?" the younger man prompted, clearly intrigued. "How so?"
"Well, er…" The first speaker faltered momentarily before clearing his throat, as though steadying himself. "She outright rejected a… friend of mine once. He offered for her hand, you see."
Liar.
Colin had no doubt in his mind that this supposedfriendwas none other than the man currently speaking. The hesitance, the veiled resentment—it was all there, plain as day. A man licking his wounds, trying to salvage his dignity by weaving a false narrative of indifference.
"This friend of yours must have taken quite the blow, then," the second voice mused, though Colin detected something in his tone—doubt, perhaps mild amusement.
A skeptic among them.
"Oh, it was hardly a blow," the bitter one responded too quickly, too forcefully. "Women of her caliber are not worth a dime. She is wild and uncouth. An anomaly that she is of noble blood, if you ask me."
Colin's jaw locked, his grip on the whiskey tumbler tightening until the crystal threatened to fracture beneath his fingers. A slow burn of fury crept through him, seeping into his veins, coiling tight in his chest.
How dare they?
Howdarethey speak of her with such brazen disrespect? OfAnna—who, for all her maddening ways, possessed more wit, intelligence, and spirit than this entire room combined?
The urge to rise, to cross the room and make his presenceunmistakablyknown, clawed at him. His fingers itched to grasp the front of that arrogant buffoon's coat and demand that he repeat his slander to Colin's face.
But he did not move.
He could not afford to.
Not when Anna was already the subject of too much speculation. Not whenherreputation would suffer forhislack of control. If he caused a scene—if word got out that the Duke of Copperton had erupted into a fit of temper over a woman Society already deemed too scandalous—what would follow? He could see the headlines now:
The Wild, Self-Imposed Spinster: Duke's Temper Confirms the Rumors!
No. He would not add more fuel to the fire. He would not make her the object of further ridicule.
Instead, he inhaled deeply, forcing his rage to settle into something cold, something calculating. He would not forget this slight. And when the moment was right, those gentlemen would learn just how unwise it was to insult Anna Sutton within earshot of the Duke of Copperton.
For now, though, he merely lifted his glass, took a measured sip of whiskey, and let the slow burn of both drink and anger settle within him.
"Do you know what else I heard?" The gentlemen had not yet exhausted their cruel amusement.
"That thetruereason she remains unmarried is because she is mistress to half the elderly lords in society," the second voice supplied with an air of smug satisfaction.
Colin felt his body go rigid before he had fully registered his own reaction. The words struck him like a physical blow, rage seizing his limbs with an unfamiliar violence.
"Why, in that case," a third voice drawled, "do you suppose she might extend her generosityourway as well?"
Laughter erupted.
Colin saw red.
Before he had consciously decided to move, he was already upon them. Their laughter suffered an unceremonious death as the men sprang upright in their seats, identical expressions of shock and dismay plastered across their faces.
"Y-Your Grace," one stammered.
"Copperton!" another choked out, scrambling to set down his drink.
Colin surveyed them with the slow, deliberate scrutiny of a man deciding whether his opponents were even worth the effort of his ire. He could feel his anger pressing against his ribs, but he held it steady, shaping it into somethinguseful.
"I see you gentlemen have no honorable leash on your tongues," he said, his voice deceptively calm, though the steel beneath it was impossible to miss.
A pathetic little chuckle sounded from one of them. "I fear we do not quite understand Your Grace's meaning."
