He strode toward her until they were nearly nose to nose. “This is not a joke, Bronwyn. That man was serious. Whatever you did in Philadelphia had repercussions.” She did not utter a word when he marched to the door, closed it, and returned a moment later, though she braced at the rather serious expression on his face. “I received a cable from Lisbeth that a plot to abduct President Lincoln from Ford’s Theatre in Washington nearly four weeks ago had been foiled. Coded messages urged him to be deliberately misleading about his movements, which might have saved his life.”

Bronwyn blinked, relief rushing through her. She hadn’t failed. At least that was good news. Wentworth would be pleased, if he ever got back to her. She frowned. Was that why these men were after her? They were angry and wanted someone to blame. She was as good a scapegoat as any, and that big brute from the tavern had seen her face. Men of his ilk took things personally, especially if they were bested by a woman. Political tensions and loyalties also turned the most rational of men into monsters.

Hell, she needed to get to Wentworth.

Or marry Thornbury.

Bronwyn swallowed. No, she couldn’t. Marrying the duke—the leading man of every dream she’d ever had—would be too easy and would cost her her freedom. She could do this…survive off the merit of her own two feet, her wits, and a bucket of courage. Her spirit had never failed her before. She lifted her chin. “I don’t know what that has to do with my current circumstance.”

“The Union also sacked Richmond, and the Rebels surrendered on the ninth,” Thornbury went on in a low voice, and she frowned. That was only four days ago, but she hadn’t seen the latest newssheets in France, which no doubt might have covered the international news. “Those names you passed on from my report were shared with General Ulysses Grant. They’re looking for the men. Surratt and Powell might be headed for Canada. They think Booth is in Boston, and they’re still searching for the others.”

Bronwyn shivered. Booth was the main perpetrator as far as she had discerned. She hoped they would all be caught. The end of the American Civil War was encouraging news as well. War took a toll that could never be forgotten. For now, she avoided Thornbury’s astute glare. “I hope they catch them.”

“You’re still in danger, Bronwyn.”

She sniffed. “Marrying you would not be a deterrent to any man with a vendetta. My answer is no, Your Grace, so unless you intend to compel me to the altar somehow, might I propose an alternate suggestion?”

“Which is?” he bit out with a scowl.

“Teach me your methods to defend myself.”

***