“I’ll stop you right there. Save you getting a bullet in your mouth for your efforts,” a mocking voice drawled as the Duke of Thornbury sauntered into the mews with his own gun cocked and ready. “She’s a marvelous shot. Seen her in action myself. Anyway, the lady can’t give you your precious list because she doesn’t have it. I do.”

***

Valentine had the most untimely half erection ever. If there was anything more magnificent than the sight of Bronwyn Chase with a mass of glossy, wild ringlets tumbling down her back and over her shoulders, in that gold-threaded, rose-colored ball gown and holding two guns wide at twelve and six, then he didn’t know what it was.

Because by God and everything holy, this woman took every breath of air in his lungs. She stood like a commander on a field of battle, stance wide, cheeks red, and eyes sparking with fire. She put on a good front, but Valentine could see the strain in her shoulders in the barest tremble of her hands. And if he could see it, he knew Wentworth could as well.

Valentine had overheard quite a lot of the conversation, and he, too, had been hoping that Wentworth would expose his reasons. The big brute, Larry, shifted and redistributed his weight to the balls of his feet as though about to launch himself in an attack, and Valentine tutted, moving the barrel of the gun into the man’s side. “Don’t even think about it. You and I have unfinished business. I’d hate not to get any fun in before I turn you in.”

“Go fuck yourself,” the man snarled.

Valentine made a shocked sound. “Such language, good sir, and in front of a lady no less. Wentworth, what kind of riffraff are you surrounding yourself with these days? Didn’t your mama ever tell you that if you lie with curs, you’ll get fleas.” He sniffed. “I suppose not.”

“Fuck you, Thornbury. You always thought you were too good for everyone else.”

Valentine perused the man, pretending to falter in memory even though he knew exactly who the bastard was. “I remember you. The courier who fetched the newssheets and took the reports to the filing chambers for the senior staff.”

“I worked my way up. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yes, but there are ways—honest ways—of climbing the ladder and yours were rather questionable, weren’t they, Mr. Wentworth? Then when you decided to steal confidential files and sell them to the highest bidder, that kept you flush for a good long while.” Valentine nodded, even as he could see Bronwyn goggling at him from the corner of her eye. “Your son is awake by the way.”

Bronwyn gasped. “Son?”

“The relative he mentioned,” Valentine explained helpfully. “And the one who knows all of his big brother’s aliases, including one on my very list.”