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“Good girl.” It should have been patronizing coming from him, but all it did was make her weak in the knees. Something was officially wrong with her head. She peered at him with narrowed eyes, expecting him to order her to stay hidden like the helpless damsel she was, but he gave a firm nod. “I’m going to walk through the ballroom. Keep an eye on the exits, if you can. If you see anything, break the biggest vase you can find.”
Her brows pleated. “You’re going to trust me on my own?”
“Yes, two sets of eyes are better than one,” he said on an exhale and then rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I must be out of my mind, but well, there it is.” Bronwyn stared at him in utter shock. Had the most decorated spy in Britain deemed her an asset instead of a hindrance? She could not hide her grin.
“I suppose I’m official now. Do we get embossed calling cards? Is there a secret spy handshake? A special wink, perhaps?”
“God, that mouth. It’s incorrigible.” The duke started to move away, but then turned around and closed the distance between them with three brisk steps. With a blazing look, he hauled her to him and planted a hard kiss on her lips before releasing her. “Be careful. Don’t get shot.”
“You don’t get shot,” she tossed back. “Partner.”
She was still smiling when he walked away with lengthy strides, already observing the guests as he walked the perimeter. Perhaps she should head back up to her small balcony. It provided an exceptional view of the entire ballroom. Bronwyn turned and promptly crashed into someone. “Forget something?”
The words died on her lips as she stared up into the ugly face of the man from the tavern. Even dressed in a bespoke suit of clothing, nothing could hide the craggy harshness of his face. The barrel of a gun pressed into her stomach. “You’ve caused a lot of trouble, little bird. Are you going to come quietly? Or shall I make an example of someone? How about the pregnant woman with you earlier?”
All the bravery bled out of her. “I’ll come quietly.”
It wasn’t her fault that on the way out, she stumbled clumsily and crashed into a giant vase of flowers in the foyer. As she watched it smash into a million pieces, she hoped the noise would be enough to alert the Duke of Thornbury, wherever he was.
If not, she was on her own.
***
Valentine’s head ached. The further he walked away from Bronwyn, the more troubled he felt. And it wasn’t as though he didn’t think she wasn’t capable of defending herself. He did. She astounded him, to be honest. How a sheltered heiress had gone from being a debutante to running messages for the Home Office and crossing international borders to do so was beyond him. He used to think that it was foolish whimsy, but he was coming to realize that Bronwyn was far from a fool. She had a cunning mind and bravery that most men lacked.
And he was letting her go like water through his fingers.
She doesn’t want to marry you.
His chest squeezed as if a huge hand had taken his heart in a tight fist. His feelings on everything were so muddled—tied up in the life he’d lived and expectations for the future. If Bronwyn knew some of the things he’d done in the name of Crown and country, would she look at him differently? She would. That was his penance. He was meant to be alone with that burden. Not foist it on someone else. The only person who’d ever understood had been Lisbeth because they were the same.
Bronwyn was light, and as much as his darkness craved her, he could not drag her down with him. She deserved someone like Herbert, whom everyone loved. Who was safe and steady. And who knew, maybe he would be the grand love she deserved. Valentine couldn’t stand the thought of that wishy-washy boy kissing Bronwyn,touchingher. Being the recipient of those wily smiles and weighted looks from those brilliant blue eyes.
He’d noticed her the minute she’d entered his sphere, his every sense attuned to her. In a stunning rose-colored gown that floated around her slender form, she was the loveliest lady in the room. From the tips of the ostrich feathers in her hair that had been dyed to match to her jeweled slippers, she was a vision. He hadn’t been the only one in the ballroom left slack-jawed after her entrance.
A man came abreast of him. “Rawley,” he said. “Good. Bronwyn said she saw someone in the ballroom.”
Rawley gritted his teeth. “I told Ashvale to tell his stepmother that a ball was a bad idea with someone after Bee. She probably thought it was a hoax or some attempt to thwart her plans to barter off her daughter like a side of beef. And now that man is here.Inside.”
Valentine exhaled forcefully. “He would have found a way to get her to him, no matter what. Where is Ashvale?”
“Seeing the duchess home, and also fetching the Metropolitan Police.”
“This is too much of a crush. If he is here, he could be anywhere. We need to draw him out somehow.” But even as he said the words, he felt his skin pull tight. Typically, one drew a target out with bait, but not if the bait was on the other side of the ballroom.
He was running before he could even finish his thought. He’d left Bronwyn on her own when he really should have kept her with him. A part of him had wanted to let her know that the way he saw her had changed, but even her bright burst of delight was not enough to stop him from kicking himself. The man from Philadelphia was here forher!
The loud crash of something large splintering on the floor had him lengthening his stride, his heart thumping in his chest. He was almost running by the time he neared the entrance to the residence. Efficient footmen and maids were already sweeping up the mess.
Rawley caught up to him, his chest heaving.
“She’s gone,” Valentine said.
The other man blinked. “Taken by force?”
“Yes, I suspect so. From right under our goddamned noses.” He clenched his fists. His entire body felt heavy and uncoordinated as if he were wading in mud. Even his brain felt unnaturally slow. “They can’t have gone far, unless they’re still inside.”
“I’ll search the house,” Rawley said. “You go outside.”
