She was still smiling when he walked away with lengthy strides, already observing the guests as he walked the perimeter. Perhaps she should head back up to her small balcony. It provided an exceptional view of the entire ballroom. Bronwyn turned and promptly crashed into someone. “Forget something?”

The words died on her lips as she stared up into the ugly face of the man from the tavern. Even dressed in a bespoke suit of clothing, nothing could hide the craggy harshness of his face. The barrel of a gun pressed into her stomach. “You’ve caused a lot of trouble, little bird. Are you going to come quietly? Or shall I make an example of someone? How about the pregnant woman with you earlier?”

All the bravery bled out of her. “I’ll come quietly.”

It wasn’t her fault that on the way out, she stumbled clumsily and crashed into a giant vase of flowers in the foyer. As she watched it smash into a million pieces, she hoped the noise would be enough to alert the Duke of Thornbury, wherever he was.

If not, she was on her own.

***

Valentine’s head ached. The further he walked away from Bronwyn, the more troubled he felt. And it wasn’t as though he didn’t think she wasn’t capable of defending herself. He did. She astounded him, to be honest. How a sheltered heiress had gone from being a debutante to running messages for the Home Office and crossing international borders to do so was beyond him. He used to think that it was foolish whimsy, but he was coming to realize that Bronwyn was far from a fool. She had a cunning mind and bravery that most men lacked.

And he was letting her go like water through his fingers.

She doesn’t want to marry you.

His chest squeezed as if a huge hand had taken his heart in a tight fist. His feelings on everything were so muddled—tied up in the life he’d lived and expectations for the future. If Bronwyn knew some of the things he’d done in the name of Crown and country, would she look at him differently? She would. That was his penance. He was meant to be alone with that burden. Not foist it on someone else. The only person who’d ever understood had been Lisbeth because they were the same.

Bronwyn was light, and as much as his darkness craved her, he could not drag her down with him. She deserved someone like Herbert, whom everyone loved. Who was safe and steady. And who knew, maybe he would be the grand love she deserved. Valentine couldn’t stand the thought of that wishy-washy boy kissing Bronwyn, touching her. Being the recipient of those wily smiles and weighted looks from those brilliant blue eyes.