Inviting the Marquis de Tremblay had been Aunt Esther’s brilliant idea, and of course, the gentleman had agreed, delighted to charm his way through greener pastures after declaring boredom with Paris. Bronwyn had seen it as the perfect wedge to drive some space between her and Thornbury, and it had clearly worked, considering his thunderous expression on deck. Strangely, it did not feel as gratifying as she’d thought it would, leaving only a strange hollowness in the pit of her stomach.

That was likely nerves. She hadn’t seen her mother in a few weeks, and no doubt, she would be in a tizzy. She wondered if Lady Borne would approve of the marquis. Tremblay was handsome and wealthy and ticked all her boxes, with the sole exception that he was French. And of course, the dear friend and possible former lover of the marchioness’s estranged sister. Bronwyn glanced at her aunt, whose head rested on Tremblay’s shoulder. It was curious that those two had an on-again, off-again relationship, considering she was twice his age, but they got along marvelously well.

Bronwyn lifted a brow at them. “Are you two going to behave?”

The marquis let out a chuckle as her aunt grinned, making her look much younger than her forty-odd years. “We are going to destroy this rigid ton with every weapon in our arsenal, never fear.”

“Mama is going to have conniptions,” Bronwyn groaned.

Tremblay waggled his brows. “And the tight-arsed Duke of Thornbury.”

The sound of his name made her core clench, not to mention causing an instant and unwelcome vision of that very tight, very firm pair of male buttocks that she had yet to see unclothed, and she almost cursed aloud when the marquis’s soft laughter filled the coach. “Don’t worry, dearest. I will make your arctic snow-beast positively melt with jealousy.”

“Leave her alone, Jacques dear,” Esther scolded. “If there’s any melting to be done, I’m sure my niece can handle it.”

Bronwyn glanced at her aunt whose own mischievous smile rivaled the marquis’s. It was incongruous to think that she and the rather expressionless and haughty Marchioness of Borne were twin sisters. They had the same features, but they could not be more different. Both brown-haired and blue-eyed, Aunt Esther embodied warmth and charm, while her mother had the personality of a weed and the friendliness of a jagged blade. Bronwyn knew she favored both her aunt and her mother in looks. Aunt Esther’s arrival was going to be a shock, considering the two women hadn’t seen each other in years.

“When was the last time you saw Mama?” Bronwyn asked.