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The man was a dolt. A categorical tyrannical beast. The worst creature ever to be put on this earth. A veritable duke-shaped plague upon her house!
“Who does he think he is?” she seethed at Cora. “How dare he lock me in here?”
“For your safety, my lady,” the maid said softly.
Bronwyn ground her molars together and prowled back to the window. “This ismyfamily’s residence. Not his! The only reason he’s here is at my invitation. God, he’s so overbearing, I could kick him right in the teeth. No, the ballocks!”
“The duke cares about you, my lady,” Cora said, unperturbed by her mistress’s unladylike threats.
“No, that jackanapes only cares about himself!”
The key in the lock turned right at that moment and she whirled on her heel, ready to give her nemesis a piece of her mind. She opened her mouth, tirade ready to explode, and snapped it shut when the person on the other side came into view. Anger ebbed and dismay took its place as the Duke of Ashvale loomed in the doorway.
Oh, hell.
“Brother.” She exhaled and folded her arms across her middle. “What brings you to France?”
“You know very well what summons me here, Bronwyn,” he said, that familiar voice making her want to burst into tears as though she were a child and fling herself into his arms. But she wasn’t a child. She was a grown woman who had made her own decisions. She wanted to stand on her own two feet and she’d face her fate with her head held high.
Courtland glanced at the maid. “Please excuse us, Cora.”
She bobbed. “Your Grace.”
Bronwyn felt her heart sink as Cora left, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable. But then her fury returned as the Duke of Thornbury followed on her brother’s heels. Those amber eyes were as hard as quartz and just as unreadable. Her fingers dug into her palms in aggravation. Why did men always assume they knew what was best? He had to go and involve her brother. This was truly the last straw!
“Did Thornbury summon you?” she bit out. “That cretin thinks he knows what’s best for everyone, but I assure you—”
“Rawley,” the duke said, interrupting her rant, “informed me about the attack on your life and the dire state of the situation. I suppose I am grateful that the Duke of Thornbury was here to protect you, though I have heard enough about his version of defense to have my own reservations. But that is something I will address at a later date. You can both count on it.”
Bronwyn gulped at the intonation, heart slamming against her ribs. What did heknow? She didn’t dare look over at the duke, though she could feel his unswerving attention on her. She still wanted to kick him in both places. The expression in her brother’s eyes as they shifted to the duke was one of deadly intent. Thornbury, for his part, did not bat an eyelash at the obvious menace from his friend.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Bronwyn?”
She licked her lips, not wanting to lie and also wanting to uphold the oath she’d taken. “I cannot tell you.”
“Lives are in peril,” he said.
“Only mine, and I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to do what I am doing.”
“And what exactly is that?” Onyx eyes drilled into hers, her brother’s handsome face pulling tight. “I’m not playing any games, Bronwyn.”
Well, neither was she. She firmed her lips and stared back, their sheer obstinacy common ground between them. They might not have grown up together, but their similarities in personality were more than evident in that moment.
At her mulish expression, he sighed and threaded a hand through his dark curls. “A letter came for you.”
She frowned. “A letter?”
“To my house in London. Addressed to you, which I opened. The sender claimed that they knew your secret identity as the spy called the Kestrel and would go to the presses if you did not pay them the sum demanded.”
The sharp exhalation from Thornbury made her flinch. Clearly, the cat—no, thebird—was certainly out of the bag now.
Bronwyn bristled with anger. “You opened my correspondence?”
The look Courtland gave her was so full of veiled fury that she quailed in her slippers. “Contrary to what you might think, dear sister, I have always known of your little escapades. My wife convinced me that with Rawley on your heels, I should let you fly as you wanted, as long as you weren’t in any danger.” Emotion bled over his face for in instant, letting her see exactly what she had put him through. “But then you decided to go to America and nearly got killed. Twice.” His voice shook with strain.
“I had to, Courtland,” she whispered. “A man’s life was hanging in the balance.”
“Yes, I understand, butyourlife matters to me, and you nearly diedtwiceat gunpoint.”
