“Besides, I cannot move, remember?” She jangled both arms still loosely attached to the headboard. “Do you plan on letting me out of these anytime soon, Your Grace?”

“You were the one who asked for the handcuffs,” he shot back, turning to give her a breath-snatching view of the front of him. She loved looking at him, almost as much as she loved putting that honed body to use.

“You did promise I’d be in them at the end of all this.”

The corner of one lip curled into a sultry smirk. “That is true.”

They had only been married a few weeks and were still in Scotland. Their wedding in the Highlands had been intimate and tasteful with mostly family in attendance, but even the Willingtons had made the journey. Courtland and Ravenna, along with their latest addition, Isla, had come as well, though to no one’s surprise, the Marchioness of Borne had been conveniently ill. Aunt Esther had more than made up for her absence, however.

Since their vows, Bronwyn and Valentine had been insatiable. Occasionally, they ended up in bed, but her husband had a penchant for finding her in the most incongruous of places—from the gardens to the attic, and practically every usable nook or cranny in the residence. He’d even pulled her into a bedding closet once, and they’d scandalized the daylights out of the housekeeper. But they were enjoying their honeymoon so they were supposed to make mischief…and love. Constantly, it seemed.

Thank goodness, there were no more clandestine adventures.

The Duke of Thornbury was a respected peer, and she was now a duchess with a role to play. Bronwyn hadn’t given up all her plans, though she was accomplishing them in a less subversive way via charitable endeavors that raised funds for families displaced by the American Civil War, especially those of people of color forging new lives in England, the West Indies, and America. And when she saw opportunities to better conditions for immigrant workers in Britain, particularly those who weren’t white, she was sure to raise discuss the issue with her brother in the Lords. Courtland had meant every word he’d said about valuing her voice.

The scandal had taken the newssheets by storm: Corruption Tarnishes the Home Office.

When all was said and done, Wentworth, who had survived Bronwyn’s shot to the abdomen, and his accomplice, Larry, had been arrested and charged with numerous counts of criminal activity, including coercion, fraud, and attempted murder of a peer. Thanks to Bronwyn’s rather thoughtful and excellent husband, Sesily was no longer tied to their lying, manipulative former handler. Their marriage was annulled and she had decided to remain in San Francisco to help in her mother’s tireless efforts toward civil rights and equality. She and Bronwyn wrote to each other often.