He hissed as if she’d pressed on a raw wound, his mouth flattening into a hard white line as his fingers closed around her arm and made her wince. Cursing, he sent her a vexed look and then yanked her into the empty stables. The soft nicker of horses reached her ears, but no one of the human variety was around.

Bronwyn let out a breath and revised her statement when a shadowy form carrying a lantern loomed into view. Her heart kicked in her chest, hoping that it was the duke, but then a different feeling, one of relief filled her when the new arrival was made clear. He held a gun in his hand and looked quite fierce. Bronwyn wanted to whoop and stomp on her captor’s instep, but she stayed still, waiting for his signal.

“Lady Bronwyn, my most unexpected success and the biggest fucking pain in my arse. Where’s my goddamned list?”

She blinked at Wentworth. “Sir?”

But he only stared, waiting for her molasses-slow brain to catch up. Oh dear God. The employer of the man whose grip was currently crushing her arm was him.

Everything seemed to unravel in slow motion—the fact that her mentor in the Home Office was sneering at her, that the gun was pointed at her instead of her abductor, and the utterly numbing realization that the man she had trusted most in the world was not on her side.

Stay calm. Control your emotions. Valentine’s words from the Bois de Boulogne arose as she faced down the deadly weapon.

“When did you decide to throw me to the wolves?” she asked, keeping her voice measured.

“You were always disposable, Lady Bronwyn.” He strolled closer, waving the gun carelessly in the air. She clenched her teeth. If the brute released her, she might have a chance of getting to one or both of her weapons or even disarming him as she’d practiced. Wentworth was a trained operative, however, not a careless, hired cad. “You know, when you first approached Sesily and then me so boldly, wanting to do your part for God and country, I almost laughed, but you wanted to prove yourself so badly.” He shook his head and tapped his chin with the gun. “Imagine my surprise when you turned out to be better than Sesily.”

“Where is she?” Bronwyn asked, keeping her stare on him and her shock at bay. “What have you done with her?”

The bastard laughed. “Nothing. I married the bellicose chit.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Though lamentably, I had to send her back to San Francisco. She threatened to expose me and I couldn’t have that. At least, not until I dealt with a few loose ends that could see me lose my position.” Wentworth laughed. “She’s the one who tried to extort you, you know. After I cut her off, she was hoping for money to hide from me and remain in England.”