AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Bronwyn flinched at the consternation, and felt Thornbury’s gaze flutter to her from where he stood leaning against the doorjamb. “No need to make her feel worse, Ashvale. She was doing what she thought was right,” he said.
“Don’t get me started onyou,” Courtland growled. “When this is over and done with, you and I will have words, I assure you.”
“Thornbury didn’t do anything, Courtland.” Heavens, why was she defending him? The rotter had locked her in her chambers for two days! She could feel his quiet surprise, but ignored it. “In fact you should thank him that I am here in one piece.”
That was entirely the wrong thing to say, considering her brother’s thunderous expression.
“This has to end, Bronwyn,” Courtland said through clenched teeth. She rolled her palms into fists at the curt order, ready to rail at him, ready to scream that she was in control of her own life, until his next softly spoken words. “You have no idea how terrified I was when Rawley’s cable came through. I cannot lose you, not when I’ve only just found you.”
Not even attempting to hold back the burst of her tears, she crumpled straight into her brother’s arms. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Courtland. I just wanted todosomething. Make a difference. I don’t have a seat in the Lords, I can’t enact change like you and Thornbury can, but I can help in my own way.”
He wrapped her up in a warm embrace. “Not like this.”
She sniffed. “You expect me to sit at home? Do needlepoint, play the pianoforte, and twiddle my thumbs? Let the dogmatists win because they’re used to it?”
“No,” he said. “Your voice is power, Bronwyn, and the fact that you are willing to use it for the sake of those who need it says a lot about your character. But if you die, that proud, strong, compelling voice dies with you.”
Bronwyn exhaled, shoulders dipping with dejection. “So how do I help?”
“Small efforts make big ripples. You don’t have to be an infamous international spy, though it appears your methods are rather effective. I heard what you did for Lincoln.”
“Hardly infamous,” she muttered, dismay deepening that he obviously knew who she was and also what she’d done. Some spy she was turning out to be if her brother knew her every move. No surprise now considering the big, silent shadow she’d never noticed on her heels. She narrowed her gaze, thinking about Rawley who was arguably the cleverest spymaster of them all.
Courtland glanced over his shoulder. “Besides, ask Thornbury about his past. Always running for his life. So wrapped up in deception, he doesn’t even know the truth of who he is, or what he wants.” A dark gaze filled with fondness peered down at her. “I want to hear what you have to say, Bronwyn, and I need you alive to help me amplify as many voices as we can in Parliament.”
Of course he did. Because that was who he was—a brother, a husband, a fair and just man who wouldn’t placate her with empty words.
Bronwyn choked up. “I love you, Courtland.”
“Love you too, Sister.”
***
Valentine fought the envy rising inside him as he watched the siblings. He didn’t begrudge his friend for hearing those words from his sister, but deep down, he coveted them for himself. Valentine wanted her affection…and the fervent avowals of love. Two things he would never have. Things he didn’t deserve. And clearly she thought so as well because the idea of being married to him was a fate worse than death.
Bloody hell! He needed to do something to rid himself of these sodding useless feelings that had no business being inside his mind. They were digging under his skin, burrowing into the marrow of his bones, and messing with his head in a way that was not healthy. That was the thing with emotions…once a person let them in, they spawned and swarmed until they took over. He needed to take back his shaky control.
You don’t want control. You want her.
Valentine firmed his lips. Want was a useless thing that set terrible expectations. Sure, hewanteda dozen Arabian thoroughbreds, but that didn’t mean such a thing was good for him. He scowled at himself. Bronwyn wasn’t a mare in his stable. Admittedly, the analogy was poor. He cleared his throat, watching with forced dispassion as Ashvale and Bronwyn broke apart.
“This letter you received,” Valentine said. “Any clues as to who sent it? Where it was postmarked from?”
“No idea to the first, and it was sent from England, not here,” Ashvale said, taking the correspondence out of his pocket and handing it to Bronwyn. Valentine suppressed a burst of irritation. It washermail, after all. “Do you recognize the handwriting?” the duke asked.
“No,” she said, brows furrowing over the folded parchment. A shocked gust of breath whistled through her lips. “They want one thousand pounds or I will be exposed.”
“Extortion,” Thornbury said with a frown. “Who else knows about you?”
“Besides you two? And Rawley? No one beyond the man I work with, and I’ve been extremely careful, considering how long I went undiscovered.”
Thornbury prowled forward. “And who would that be?”
“You know I cannot tell you until I’ve verified that it is well and good to do so,” she replied quickly, still studying the parchment as if looking for more clues.
“What if it’s that very man?”
A low laugh left her. “It’s not him. He has too much to lose.”
