Page 73 of Duke of Bronze
A muscle twitched in Colin's jaw. The urge to rise, to stride across the gardens andinterruptwhatever conversation they were having, was near unbearable. He could impose himself upon their little stroll. He could?—
A discreet cough sounded behind him.
Colin turned, his irritation mounting further at the untimely intrusion. Fisher, his ever-efficient valet, stood at the threshold, a folded gossip sheet in hand.
"Your Grace has not attended to the columns of late," Fisher observed mildly. "I thought it prudent to bring a little reminder."
Colin dragged a hand through his hair. "Attempt to govern a dukedom whilst hosting a houseful of guests, Fisher, and then tell me if you should find yourself engrossed in the latest scandal sheets."
"Perish the thought, Your Grace," Fisher replied, unperturbed. "Fortunately for you, that is precisely why I am here. Bringing the paper was merely a formality—I have already read it in its entirety and am more than happy to relay what you have missed."
Colin cast him a flat look. "I doubt I have missed anything of import."
Fisher lifted a brow. "Indeed, Your Grace remains the column's preferred subject, as ever."
Colin pinched the bridge of his nose. "We are not even in Town. What could they possibly find to report on here?"
"It would appear, Your Grace, that the columns have trailed us even here." Fisher said, sounding far too amused for Colin's liking. "Still publishing.Daily, in fact."
Colin's brow furrowed, the irritation he had been trying to suppress flaring anew. "Daily?"
Fisher nodded, his expression far too knowing. "I could wager anything that the writer is among your guests."
"The details they print about the house party are far too precise to be mere coincidence, Your Grace. Nor does it read as sold information," Fisher mused. "The writer must be among us, observing, listening. Indeed, today's column made specific mention of your conversation with Lady Fiona by the carriage just before yesterday's excursion."
Colin's fingers curled at his sides. "Is that so?" he muttered.
It was preposterous—the gossip, the speculative drivel. His supposedinterestin Lady Fiona. The entire notion was absurd. Baseless. Yet, what unsettled him most was not the unwarranted attention on his acquaintance with her, but rather the comparisons toAnna.
That,that, he found intolerable.
"And these absurd wagers," Colin scoffed, tossing the paper aside. "What addle-brained fool is placing bets on my affairs?"
Fisher's expression turned sly. "Perhaps I ought to try my own luck. A few well-placed wagers on the Duke, his spinster, and the Diamond might secure me a rather comfortable future."
Colin shot him a pointed look. "Do you have a death wish?"
"I value my neck far too dearly to tempt fate, Your Grace," Fisher chuckled, making a great show of rubbing at his throat. "Wagers or not, I should rather remain in full possession of my faculties—and my head."
Colin huffed in amusement but said no more.
Later that evening, as he made his way toward the dining hall, a glimpse through an open doorway slowed his steps.
The salon had been left ajar, and inside, Roderick stood engaged in an animated discussion. But he was not alone.
Opposite him sat a young gentleman Colin immediately recognized—the Earl of Sutherton.
His brows ascended in surprise.
The fighter and the Earl, deep in conversation? Now,thatwas an unusual pairing.
The Earl of Sutherton leaned forward, his expression keen with interest as he posed yet another question. "And tell me, sir, does strategy play as great a role as brute strength? Or does one simply require a solid fist and a bit of luck?"
Roderick, appearing entirely at ease for the first time since his arrival, let out a short laugh. "Strength alone is worth little without the mind to wield it. A well-placed blow is far more effective than a hundred wild swings. One must studyhis opponent, anticipate his movements, and strike before the opportunity slips away."
Sutherton nodded, intrigued. "Fascinating. I should very much like to continue this discussion over a brandy later." He withdrew his pocket watch and sighed. "Alas, duty calls. I have promised to escort a group of ladies to the village, and it seems the hour is upon me."
He rose, brushing off his coat, and made his way toward the door just as Colin stepped inside.
