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“Your safety is the important thing at the moment, my lady. I do not presume to know the whys of your decisions, but I do know that you don’t do anything without cause. If you are in trouble, then I suppose there’s a good reason for it.” Cora folded her hands in her lap and shrugged. “You will always have me.”
Bronwyn glanced back at the retreating docks through the carriage window, seeing the bright outline of the ship and almost expecting to see a towering form appearing on deck in the wake of her departure. Her heart was still pounding a harsh tempo against her ribs.
It wouldn’t be long before her disappearance from the ballroom would be noticed, but another maid had been instructed to inform Lord Daley had she had retired with a megrim. The young man could be counted upon to spread the news faster than a fishwife in the local market. With luck, the hard-to-fool duke would assume that she’d gone to bed, and Rawley would confirm her malady, if necessary.
“So the Duke of Thornbury?” Cora asked.
Bronwyn jumped as if the utterance of his name could summon him like the unholy wraith he was and met her maid’s eyes. “What about him?” she mumbled.
“You like him,” the maid said pointedly. “You’ve always held a tendre for him since last season and this is the most time you’ve spent in his presence, and he’s no longer married.”
Bronwyn opened her mouth and shut it. It was impractical to argue. Cora had been with her so long that, of course, she would know of her adolescent infatuation. Bronwyn had doodled the man’s name many a time in her private journal. It was beyond infatuation now, however. She hadcoupledwith the man. Her feelings were complicated.
“He has…other interests,” she said.
Like his duty and locking up the Kestrel.
“What happened between the two of you?” Cora asked. “Noel seemed to think there might be an announcement at first, when we left England, and then in the last few days on the return, it was the opposite.”
The breath left her in a whoosh. “An announcement?”
Cora rolled her eyes, a smirk overtaking her lips. “That man devours you with his eyes when he thinks no one is looking. I’ve watched the two of you dance around each other for days. There’s something between you. Even the hardiest cynic could see it.”
The feeling squeezing her heart spread to the rest of her body. Bronwyn felt guilty for running, but it was clear that the man was married to his duty, even though he was supposed to be retired from his position. His desire for her was caught up on his desire to apprehend his target. “It’s too hard to explain or to make sense of,” she whispered. “A convoluted mess.”
The coach rolled to a hard stop, making them both gasp, and the door was opened by the coachman. “Come now, my lady,” he said, putting out the stool.
Cora reached forward and made sure the hood of Bronwyn’s cloak was over her head and the buttons were tightly fastened before they descended into the station. It was newly constructed by the looks of it. The hour was late, though the platform still bustled with activity. No one paid them any attention as another man approached, said something to Cora to which she nodded, and handed her a pouch. The coachman took his leave, and the maid gestured for them to follow the second man who carried their bags with him.
“This way,” Cora said in a low voice.
A knot in her throat, Bronwyn nodded. Her skin itched. She didn’t like not being in control. Normally, when she was doing any of her message deliveries, she knew exactly what had to happen, who the players were, how to extract herself from possible danger. She’d trusted Thornbury in Philadelphia, but that had been instinctive. Now, she had to trust that Rawley had her best interests at heart.
Head down, they weaved between people and walked past the cars until they came to one that was lit by a single gas lamp. Cora thanked the man when he deposited their belongings inside and vanished into the darkness with a bob of his head. They entered the empty railcar, and Bronwyn let out a sigh of relief that they were alone. She didn’t know if she could handle being with others, as on edge as she was.
“A private car?” she guessed.
Cora gave a nod. “The Duke of Ashvale cabled a friend to arrange it.”
Bronwyn was grateful for her brother’s help, but she knew it would not come without a price. She could appeal to her sister-in-law, Ravenna, for support and leniency, but Courtland took his family, which included both his half sisters, very seriously. She’d worry about him being overprotective later.
Right now, she was intent on escaping the man who would soon be on her heels. Thornbury would not let her go so easily; she felt it in her gut.
Paris was a big city, and she had friends there. Family too.
“What’s in the packet?” she asked Cora, letting out a breath and attempting to gather her scattered wits. Taking control and regaining her sense of power was the first step in not feeling so untethered.
“Money and an address.”
The maid handed her the pouch, and Bronwyn’s eyes widened at the blue-printed French banknotes and francs inside. “We should go to my aunt. She lives near the Bois de Boulogne and will naturally be in town for the Parisian season.”
Cora frowned. “Noel said to go to this specific place.”
Every instinct inside of her, born of reading outcomes and considering scenarios over the past year, told hernotto go to the address. Not that she didn’t trust Rawley. It wasThornburyshe was worried about. Going into hiding meant she was guilty, and Bronwyn would not back herself into a corner like a mouse for a cat to find. She would not cower. She was the blasted Kestrel.
“We will go to my aunt Esther. We’ll hide in plain sight.”
The maid blinked. “Do you think that is wise, my lady?”
