“But I wasn’t,” Bronwyn said gently. “The police are saying it was an altercation gone askew. It was an accident. We’re all safe.”

Bronwyn didn’t see any need to worry her aunt with the truth, considering her current state, and thank God Thornbury had agreed. Her aunt had been much too terrified to notice that both shots had been in their direction and didn’t need confirmation that her niece had been the actual target. When the second shot had gone off, Aunt Esther had already been pulled to safety behind closed doors by Rawley.

After a while, Cora escorted her aunt upstairs for some rest, and Bronwyn poured herself a whisky from the nearby decanter and downed it, feeling the burn of the spirits tear a path to her stomach. She wasn’t much of a drinker, beyond the occasional glass of champagne, but it helped to calm her nerves.

“We should marry.”

The pronouncement echoed off the paneled bookcases of the library. Bronwyn set down her glass, resisting the immediate urge to tip back the whole bottle, and turned. Thornbury stood near the fireplace, watching her. Her gaze flicked to Rawley on the opposite side of the room. His face remained impassive, though he hadn’t disagreed. “You have nothing to say about this?” she demanded.

“He’s right,” Rawley said. “As the Duchess of Thornbury, whoever is behind this might think twice about their actions, given who he is.”

Bronwyn bit out a bitter laugh and ignored the small thrill that the title Duchess of Thornbury incited in the pit of her stomach. “Why is it that every Englishman feels that the power of his name will magically prevent all manner of terrible things from happening? I assure you, Your Grace, my enemies will still be there, even without binding myself to you in wedlock.”

“With my name, you will be under my protection,” he said.

Her brows rose. “Am I not under your protection now?”

“Bronwyn, don’t be stubborn.”

Laughter burst from her again. “You think I’m refusing your suit because I’m stubborn? Good Lord, Your Grace, you have a ridiculously high opinion of yourself.”

Rawley let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort and took that as his cue to leave. Good. Bronwyn didn’t want to make a production of the matter. She walked toward Thornbury and stopped, not trusting herself to be too close. Heaven knew what happened anytime she ventured into that man’s orbit.

“It is impractical, doesn’t make any logical sense, and I do not wish to wed any man, not even for the sake of protection or convenience.”

Those full lips pressed thin. “You’re not merely a convenience, my lady.”

“Oh, Your Grace, you do care,” she said with a hand to her breast.