“I can protect myself, Your Grace, and now you’ve made certain I’m as prepared as I can be.” She said it as if she had more to say, but then her lips firmed and her lashes dropped to hide her expression from him.

“Bronwyn.”

“Valentine,” she shot back mockingly and stared at him.

He stared into the blue fire of her gaze and let out an aggravated breath. God save him from headstrong women. This wasn’t a battle he would win right then, but he would do whatever was necessary to protect her from herself.

Eighteen

The man was a dolt. A categorical tyrannical beast. The worst creature ever to be put on this earth. A veritable duke-shaped plague upon her house!

“Who does he think he is?” she seethed at Cora. “How dare he lock me in here?”

“For your safety, my lady,” the maid said softly.

Bronwyn ground her molars together and prowled back to the window. “This is my family’s residence. Not his! The only reason he’s here is at my invitation. God, he’s so overbearing, I could kick him right in the teeth. No, the ballocks!”

“The duke cares about you, my lady,” Cora said, unperturbed by her mistress’s unladylike threats.

“No, that jackanapes only cares about himself!”

The key in the lock turned right at that moment and she whirled on her heel, ready to give her nemesis a piece of her mind. She opened her mouth, tirade ready to explode, and snapped it shut when the person on the other side came into view. Anger ebbed and dismay took its place as the Duke of Ashvale loomed in the doorway.

Oh, hell.

“Brother.” She exhaled and folded her arms across her middle. “What brings you to France?”

“You know very well what summons me here, Bronwyn,” he said, that familiar voice making her want to burst into tears as though she were a child and fling herself into his arms. But she wasn’t a child. She was a grown woman who had made her own decisions. She wanted to stand on her own two feet and she’d face her fate with her head held high.

Courtland glanced at the maid. “Please excuse us, Cora.”

She bobbed. “Your Grace.”

Bronwyn felt her heart sink as Cora left, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable. But then her fury returned as the Duke of Thornbury followed on her brother’s heels. Those amber eyes were as hard as quartz and just as unreadable. Her fingers dug into her palms in aggravation. Why did men always assume they knew what was best? He had to go and involve her brother. This was truly the last straw!

“Did Thornbury summon you?” she bit out. “That cretin thinks he knows what’s best for everyone, but I assure you—”