Most steered clear of him.

Not her, obviously, because she had rocks in her head. Too bad he was taken, though like everyone else in the ton, she’d heard the whispers of estrangement, if they were to be believed. Bronwyn hadn’t seen anyone resembling his wife before fleeing the salon earlier, however. Then again, she’d run at the first sight of him. The girlish infatuation she’d quashed a year ago had returned in full force. The urge to throw herself in his path, look up into that sultry stare, and offer herself up like a too-willing Andromeda displayed on a rock for his pleasure had been too compelling.

Good gracious, her thoughts were absurd.

Not that she hadn’t dreamed of being swept off her feet and shamelessly seduced by a man who greatly resembled her pursuer. Bronwyn scowled. Now was not the time to be reminiscing about private fantasies that had nothing to do with him whatsoever. The dratted duke was here to arrest her or worse. What were the odds that he was on this ship while she was in possession of documents that could get her thrown into jail?

Or executed for treason.

Perhaps Thornbury had only seen her in the dining room and recognized her as Ashvale’s sister. Perhaps he only wanted to say hullo. Then why were her nerves on edge as though she were teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice? Her instincts were screaming at her to flee. Not that she could jump off the side of a massive ship and swim to safety. She would have to act, pretend to be taking a pleasure cruise or some such. And hiding in an alcove off the main salon only made her look guilty.

Sucking a breath into her tight lungs, Bronwyn eased from the space, peering up and down the corridor. He hadn’t followed her, thank God, though she’d felt the visceral tug when he’d set her in his sights in that room, eyes lighting with something. Recognition? Suspicion? She was letting fear get the best of her, and that was never good.

With a toss of her head, she smoothed her skirts, lifted her chin, and walked down the hallway. She wanted to run, but she cautioned her trembling legs to take a pace that didn’t stamp her as someone suspicious, just in case the duke was watching. The hairs on her nape stood on end at the thought. She walked until she came to a door that led to one of the main decks, her lungs filling with salty chilled ocean air and her gaze greeted by a twilight sky with stars beginning to glimmer in the distance. The endless horizon over the dark, white-crested sea was beautiful in a stunningly vast way, one that made her feel small.

Insignificant.