Page 65 of Duke of Bronze
"Pardon my intrusion, ladies," he said smoothly, already inclining his head in preparation to exit.
But before he could make his escape, a sharp-eyed matron fixed him with a knowing smile. "Ah, Your Grace," she tutted. "We see how you favor the gentlemen, but do allow us to claim a bit of your time, will you? It is rather unfair to leave us to our own devices while you play the gracious host elsewhere."
A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the room, and Anna's lips twitched, though she said nothing.
Colin hesitated briefly, but when another woman suggested a game of cards, he was left with little room to refuse.
"Well, then," he conceded with a resigned smile. "Who shall I be playing against?"
Hester's empty chair was promptly indicated, and before Anna could fully process what was happening, Colin had moved to take the vacated seat opposite Fiona.
As he settled, his gaze met Anna's briefly—just briefly. But then Fiona spoke, effortlessly gathering the cards into a neat shuffle, and his attention shifted.
Anna pressed her lips together and willed herself to look away. But the unpleasant tightness in her chest had returned, settling over her like an unwelcome blanket.
She despised this feeling.
And worse still, she despised that she had no name for it.
Suddenly feeling suffocated, Anna decided to seek the retiring room. But she found herself retiring to her chambers for the night instead.
Why was she so bothered by Colin's interactions with Fiona?
CHAPTER 26
"You will not believe this, Anna!"
Peggy's breathless exclamation shattered the quiet of the morning room, the following day, pulling Anna from her thoughts. She had deliberately chosen a later breakfast hour, hoping to have the morning room to herself, but fate—and Peggy—clearly had other plans.
Her cousin sat at the table, coffee cup in one hand, a thin sheet of newsprint in the other, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
"What is it now, Peggy?" Anna sighed, the sound one of weary resignation.
Peggy practically bounced in her chair. "A published column! Here, in the country! And it is writing about the house party."
Anna blinked, unimpressed. "Good gossip for the country folk, then," she murmured, reaching for her teacup.
"Oh, I doubt you will say that again once you have read it." With an air of great importance, Peggy thrust the sheet toward her.
"That is some rapid publishing," she added, almost to herself. "It must have gone to press last night."
Anna unfolded the paper and immediately noticed its poor quality. The ink was blotched in places, the type uneven. Hardly the refined prints of London. But as her gaze traveled over the words, her indifference vanished.
Word reaches us, dear readers, of the most splendid gathering at Copperton Hall, where guests are entertained with the greatest of care under the watchful eye of our most eligible host, His Grace, the Duke of Copperton. But what is a grand affair without a whisper of intrigue?
Much has been speculated about the Duke's attentions toward a certain spinster of sharp wit and keen tongue. Could a match be in the making at last? Some matrons, ever eager to see a title settled, have already placed their wagers on the likelihood of wedding bells before the season's end.
Anna's fingers tightened around the paper. Predictable nonsense. But as she continued reading, her breath hitched.
Yet, dear readers, might we be so bold as to propose another wager? For it seems Copperton's affections may not be so singular after all. Enter the Diamond of the Season—Lady Fiona Pierce. A beauty, an accomplished musician, and a most suitable prospect indeed. Only last evening, the Duke himselfwas seen favoring the fair lady at a game of cards, his attentions most obliging, his company most enjoyed.
The question remains: which lady shall triumph? Will His Grace remain true to his previous inclinations, or has the Diamond set her sights upon his heart? The wagers grow ever more thrilling, dear readers, and we, for one, cannot wait to see how this delightful contest shall unfold. Until then, we eagerly anticipate more charming outings with the spinster… and perhaps another hand of cards with the Diamond.
Anna let out a sharp, incredulous snort and tossed the paper onto the table. "They are quick. I shall give them credit for that."
"Do you suppose one of the guests is supplying the columnists with tidbits about the party?" Peggy mused, tapping a thoughtful finger against her chin.
Anna pressed her lips together, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. "For all we know, the writer could very well be a guest." But truly, the matter did not concern her. Not when the contents of the column itself still lingered unpleasantly in her mind.
