The heat of him was tangible, pushing into her, warming her skin with fiery need.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than follow me around? Surely the feared and respected Duke of Thornbury has more important matters to attend to.”

“Alas, I cannot take the chance that you will hop on an omnibus and sneak away as you did off the Valor.”

She glanced up at the horse-drawn wagons with seats painted orange, yellow, and brown that ferried people to different parts of the city. The liveried driver and conductor were very efficient. A ticket only cost thirty centimes, and the omnibus was indeed an easy form of public transport within Paris, if one did not have one’s own coach.

Bronwyn wouldn’t admit that it had crossed her mind. It always paid to be informed about exit strategies in a foreign city. She wasn’t above crowding in with other passengers if she had to, but if push came to shove, she would hire a fiacre, which was more expensive at two francs but private. She kept her thoughts to herself, however.

“I’m with my aunt, Your Grace. I’m not sneaking off anywhere.”

“Where’s Monsieur de Tremblay?” he asked with a sidelong glance at her. “I’m surprised not to see that self-involved fop glued to your side. It’s obvious what he wants.”

“I’ve told you that jealousy is not a good look on you, Your Grace,” she said and then frowned. “Why do you even care what the gentleman wants with me? I do not care what you do with your time and whom you spend it with. We’re both free to do as we like. Neither of us has any claim on the other.”

Except the rather obvious one that made her body so stupidly, acutely aware of him. It obviously hadn’t gotten the message that the duke was off-limits because her nipples were beaded in her bodice, her throat was inexplicably dry, and her lower half felt as though it was immersed in deliciously warm bathwater. It was a wonder she could string any words together that weren’t I’m yours forever, sir.

The duke’s mouth went flat. “By all accounts, the marquis is a rogue who can barely keep his trousers fastened from bed to bed.”

Bronwyn laughed. He wasn’t wrong about that. Tremblay was an unapologetic libertine. “He very well might be, but his company pleases me and that’s all that matters. Why don’t you scamper along and find someone to entertain you as well?”

He was deeply annoyed, as evidenced by the muscle only she could seem to get to beat in that stubble-covered cheek. It never seemed to appear for anyone else. Scrutinizing it, she blinked. Normally he was clean-shaven, but she quite liked this scruffy, unkempt side of him as well. Looking like a racy pirate only increased his allure.