In the meantime, she was taking Paris by storm, thanks to Aunt Esther. Her whereabouts might have already gotten back to her mother, whose loathing for her irreverent twin sister wasn’t a secret. In fact, it might be just her luck that the Marchioness of Borne would show up in Paris to drag her back to London before Bronwyn ruined herself.

Little did her mama know that that ship had already sailed…

Speaking of the coldhearted ruiner, where was he? The duke had to be here somewhere. Bronwyn couldn’t step outside without sensing him on her heels. She peered over her shoulder as she and Aunt Esther walked past the fancy department store, Les Grands Magasins du Louvre, on the Place du Palais-Royal.

These well-lit, spacious grands magasins were an immense draw. The shop windows were beautiful with fabrics, novelties, and fashion, and Bronwyn had welcomed the chance to explore and get away for a bit. Thank goodness Aunt Esther wasn’t averse to some shopping, as was evidenced by the footmen trailing behind them carrying hatboxes and piles of wrapped parcels. Even Cora had her hands full, though she too was gazing rapt at the lovely displays.

The maid had heard from Rawley, who had sent a messenger to say that he was in Paris. He hadn’t been pleased at Bronwyn’s blatant disregard of his orders, especially when he’d arrived at the secure residence to find them missing. Bronwyn was certain that he, too, had to be somewhere about, along with Lord Happy Handcuffs himself. Cheeks heating, she snorted at the irreverent nickname.

“Good heavens, I’m quite famished,” Aunt Esther announced.

Bronwyn was as well, her stomach giving a little gurgle in agreement, but before she could nod that she was ready to head back to the residence or perhaps visit the nearby tea room, her aunt gave a gleeful little squeal and disappeared into a shop with yet another display of feathered hats. Bronwyn bit back a giggle. Aunt Esther simply could not help herself. Enjoying the warmth of the weather, Bronwyn stayed where she was, in close view of the waiting footmen and the carriage that followed.

She glanced at the closest bay window with its brightly colored cupola. Silk scarves hung down from a line in a jewel-toned waterfall with hues from emerald greens to crystal blue to violet and crimson. The display itself was eye-catchingly stylish and elegant.

“That color is the exact shade of your eyes,” a low voice said. “Like the bluest, hottest part of a flame.”

Her entire body came alive. Bronwyn stifled the instant shiver as that rich baritone coasted over her like a physical touch.

“Your Grace, I was wondering when you would appear like the scourge you are.”

“Scourge?” he said with a low chuckle, and her stupid core fluttered. “You wound me.”

She sighed. “If only you took that message to heart.”