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Bronwyn whirled to find her aghast lady’s maid, whom she had dismissed for the evening, standing just inside the corridor. Given her intention to go to supper and then only the ball for a short while, she hadn’t needed Cora, and since the girl had been somewhat seasick, Bronwyn had left her to rest. “I got lost. Why aren’t you abed?”
The maid blushed. “I felt better, and Rawley thought I might enjoy a diversion.”
“Rawley?” Bronwyn croaked in slow-dawning horror. Her brother’s man of affairs was here?
No, no.It couldn’t be him. But what were the odds that someone onboard would have the same name? Bronwyn’s heart quailed but her brain rallied. It was a common name in the islands, wasn’t it? This had to be a fluke because if it was the same man, there wasn’t one chance in hell that he wouldn’t know exactly who she was, which meant that Courtland himself would be well aware of her impulsive transatlantic journey.
Not what her purpose was, of course. She’d been much too careful in covering her steps, but she hadn’t exactly hiddenwhoshe was. Once more, Bronwyn cursed herself for choosing the hide-in-plain-sight route. She should have worn a disguise. Too late now, however, when she’d thrown the name Lady Bronwyn Chase around like gold coin in a gambler’s den.
There’s no reason for him to be here.
It’s a coincidence, that’s all.
“Hullo, Little Bee.”
Oh, hell in a dratted handbasket. Her luck was absolute shit. Bronwyn’s heart dropped to her feet. Biting her lip, she turned to see the huge, handsome man leaning propped against the wall with his arms folded against his chest. Rawley resembled her brother with his close-cropped dark curls and midnight eyes, though his burnished skin was several shades darker than Courtland’s. Rawley favored Courtland’s mother’s family—the first Marchioness of Borne had been a mix of Indian and African descent—and he, too, was a striking blend of the two.
Normally, her beloved half cousin was pleased to see her. However, the easy smile that he usually had for her was conspicuously absent.
“Does Courtland know?” she blurted out.
Black brows rose. “That you’re on his ship right at this moment? Of course he does. You’re his sister. He knows where you are at all times.”
Damnation.Did that mean Courtland also knew what she was up to? Despite her instant dread at the thought of her mission becoming compromised because of her overprotective brotherandhis cousin, she hoisted her chin. “Why did you not make yourself known to me?” she demanded imperiously.
Those thick brows nearly shot into his hairline. “Don’t take that hoity-toity tone with me, Little Bee. It might work to cow everyone else onboard, but not me. I did not tell you I was here because Ashvale did not want me to.”
She squashed down the burst of shame at her pretentious behavior and being called out for it so baldly. “Do you do everything my brother tells you?”
He smirked. “Perhaps as much as you do.”
Bronwyn had the decency to blush. Clearly not, then. So that meant Rawleywasspying on her, watching to see what she was up to. Thankfully, she’d hidden the sensitive correspondence from everyone, including her lady’s maid, while in the privacy of her stateroom. Bronwyn bit her lip, attention flicking back to Cora who had moved to stand close to Rawley and stood wringing her hands and blushing. It was obvious there was something between them, especially from the soft looks her maid was sending Courtland’s cousin.
Bronwyn narrowed her eyes. “How long hasthisbeen going on?”
Rawley relaxed. “For some time.”
The expression of tenderness that crossed the big man’s face was impossible to ignore. Alongtime, if Bronwyn had to guess. Something like envy curled through her. She was happy for them, just as she was happy that Courtland had found Ravenna. Love was a rare gift, not that she would ever be given the opportunity to receive it. Her mother intended to marry her off to the richest, most well-titled peer in London, and the chance of a love match for her would be like wishing for rain in purgatory.
It wouldn’t matter if her future husband was old or ugly or cruel, or gained his wealth in an untoward manner. As long as he was part of the peerage, he would do. Bronwyn didn’t have any illusions about that. And while Courtland was her guardian, her mother was devious in ways that could not be fathomed. No doubt upon her return, Bronwyn would be locked away in Kettering at the country seat until she could be safely married off to a man of her mother’s choosing, right underneath her brother’s nose.
In truth, that had been one of the reasons she’d agreed to the assignment in the first place.
Bronwyn wanted to make a real difference, yes. But she also knew her wings would be clipped soon enough, and she would be trapped in a fate she would not easily escape. Born and raised to be a peer’s broodmare, her future was sealed. And if the Marchioness of Borne had her way, that would be sooner rather than later.
No thank you.
Suddenly, Bronwyn wanted nothing more than to stay with Cora and Rawley. She did not want to return to a ballroom and a world that promised only superficiality, superiority, and eventual suffocation—a mirror of the life waiting for her upon her return to England.
“Might I join you both up here for a little while?” she asked in a small voice.
There was that smile of his, finally. Rawley nodded, one large arm drawing Cora closer to him. “Of course you can.” He grinned. “If you can keep up.”
A weight lifted from her shoulders. “I might not be from the islands like you, but I assure you, Big Man, I can dance circles around you.”
Nobody looked askance when she exited onto the upper deck with Rawley and Cora, not even Lady Finley, who was being swung around in a rousing Scotch reel, or some of the other aristocrats Bronwyn recognized. As with most of the people in Courtland’s circle, a wide mix of ethnicities greeted her. Men and women with skin varying in tone from as milky as hers to rich hues darker than Rawley’s. The scene was a far cry from the ballroom below, but the sight of it made something inside of her come alive.
She might not be of mixed blood as Courtland was, but she felt a camaraderie lift her spirit all the same. Bronwyn knew that her brother hired anyone with the necessary skills for open positions on his ships and his estate, especially people from his mother’s homeland. It was one of the things she most respected about Courtland. He judged people by the strength of their character, not their appearance or lineage.
