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“Your jealousy could not have been any more obvious, Your Grace.”
Those eyes narrowed. “I was not jealous. I simply did not think that a woman who is a prisoner and a traitor to the Crown should be surrounding herself with fawning admirers who have no idea of her true identity.”
“Oh, so you were concerned fortheirwell-being? How generous of you. What was this, then?” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder to the nook they’d just commandeered, brows rising as anger tore through her. “Punishment? Your way of putting the prisoner in her place as judge and executioner? Seems rather self-serving to me, Your Grace, considering the gratification you gained from your methods.”
That muscle ticked to life in his cheek, a hint of his own ire flashing over his features at the awful accusation. “You know damn well that was not what this was.”
“Then what was it?” Bronwyn swallowed, her eyes falling to the glassy ocean and the white swaths left in the wake of the ship. Moonlight sparkled over the surf, the beauty of it distracting from the certain deadly hazards that lay beneath. That was what Thornbury was to her—attractive on the surface, mortal danger underneath. Like a deadly iceberg. She’d always known that, and yet, she’d been drawn to it…drawn to him.
“I can’t control myself around you,” he muttered and raked a hand through his already mussed hair. “I don’t know why.”
Neither did she, for that matter. It was raw and consuming, whatever this connection was between them, but Bronwyn had no earthly definition for it. Lust at its most base? Primal attraction? Whatever it was, it was powerful enough to not stop him from condemning her and craving her at the same time. Or vice versa, considering how he’d brought her back on the ship like a lowly criminal. Sheshouldhate him.
“Well, at least you are honest about that.”
“When have I not been truthful with you, Bronwyn?” But even as he replied, shadows descended over his face. His whole life had been a lie, just as hers had become. There was no room for truth, not when one’s existence depended on the fabrication of false identities.
“Who is your contact in the Home Office?” he asked. “If you even have one.”
Her gloved fingers clenched around the metal of the railing. “I cannot tell you.”
“Cannot or will not?” he asked.
“Whichever suits your narrative, Your Grace,” she replied. “You’ve pegged me as a traitor who is deserving of your contempt in your less-than-humble estimation.”
“The Kestrel is a rogue operative, Bronwyn, acting beyond any official capacity that I am aware of, and that person, astonishingly, isyou. The sheltered, highborn sister of my friend. How else would you have me respond? If you were any other, I would have you locked in the brig. Contempt is not even close to what I feel. I am furious you’ve put yourself in this position!”
“And again, that is my decision,” she said quietly.
“Yes, you’ve said. It doesn’t stop me from worrying about your safety, and it won’t stop Ashvale from fretting about it either. You do understand what’s going to happen when we get to London?” He exhaled. “Your brother will be the worst of it, and with his new position in the Lords, the repercussions upon him will be challenging.”
“Repercussions?” Bronwyn asked with a frown.
“Come now, my lady. Clearly, you have a very intelligent brain in that head of yours. What do you think will happen when the sister of a mixed-race duke is accused of treason? How do you think that will reflect upon him?”
“This has nothing to do with Courtland!” she retorted.
“Doesn’t it?” he asked softly. “He’s your brother. A duke many still don’t recognize as the rightful Duke of Ashvale because of his heritage. They will say your actions are obviously reflective ofhischaracter andhisinfluence, and all the work he has put in to change ignorance and biases will be lost.”
Those quiet words lodged like blades between her ribs as Bronwyn sucked in a horrified breath. Of course she’d considered what would happen if word got out about her activities—protecting her sister, Florence, and her family was paramount—but she’d never thought about how her reputation as a female spy would reflect upon her brother’s work in Parliament, should her identity come to light. And besides, she’d been guaranteed protection by Wentworth. He could make this go away. “That’s preposterous. You’re being unfair. They won’t use me to unseat him.”
“You thinkI’mbeing unfair? They will vilify you—and by association, him—in every way possible to support their own dogmatic views. Surely I don’t have to remind you of what some of the peers in thetonare capable of, especially in the protection of their own very selfish financial interests? They will not hesitate to tear him down by reference to what you’ve done. A lady of your stature gallivanting all over England and across the Atlantic?” The duke cursed under his breath. “Ashvale has been very vocal about the practices in the Southern states, but he does not have the support of everyone in the Lords.”
Her eyes widened. God, he was good. Now Bronwyn understood why the Duke of Thornbury was such an excellent operative. His quiet intensity and impassioned list of her purported transgressions made her feel as if he were on her side, made her want to confide in him…to beg forhishelp. To trust him.
Was he on her side though? Or was he simply rooting for information?
Her mind whirled with possibilities. She didn’t want to hurt Courtland, but she could control only her own actions, not anyone else’s. Right now, only Thornbury and Lady Lisbeth knew of her identity. They were not yet on English shores, and once they arrived, things would change. She might be arrested, her brother would be informed, and Wentworth would have to bail her out. Bronwyn blinked, considering that last point. What if Wentworth wasn’t the man she thought he was either? What if he left her swaying in the wind to protect his own identity? She’d always trusted him, but she’d never been in this much trouble.
Was saving his own skin more important than hers?
He was a man. Of course it would be.
Letting out an aggravated sigh, Thornbury scrubbed his hand over his face and stared out into the moonlit night. “How did you even come to do something like this? It’s not normal fare for a lady of quality.”
Bronwyn bit her lip, recognizing the ploy for what it was and admiring how casually it was asked in the same breath. “Why? Because I’m too ‘sheltered?’ I won’t drop a name by accident if that is your hope, Your Grace, but I asked to be involved at a country party in Kettering some while ago.”
“Care to share more?”
