Bronwyn longed to give a fervent nod, those words striking a deeply resonant chord inside of her. However, she wasn’t stupid. This woman had been married to the Duke of Thornbury for years before he’d inherited his dukedom. She had to know he was a spy for the Crown. Perhaps, she might be one, too. A year ago, if someone had asked her if highborn women worked as surveillance operatives, Bronwyn would have laughed, and yet, here she was…running sensitive documents across the Atlantic while trying to outwit a retired master spy who might ferret her out in an instant.

With a hand to her chest, she feigned a horror-struck look. “That sounds positively dreadful, Lisbeth dear. I couldn’t do without my gowns and my necessities for a moment. And share? Goodness, how awful. I can barely tolerate my little sister as it is, and Florence has her own wing.” She shook her head and shuddered, rambling on. “No, this trip was only bearable as I had my brother’s luxurious rooms to myself. It’s been marvelous. I shall visit Aunt Tillie, the poor dear, and then return for a repeat experience. The only part of the world I truly wish to see, my lady, is my future husband’s ballroom.”

For a moment—Bronwyn could not be sure—there was a shimmer of what looked like admiration in the lady’s eyes before it was gone.

“Is that all?” someone drawled.

Bronwyn nearly leaped out of her skin when that mocking voice came from directly behind her chair. She’d been so wrapped up in her tale of vacuous narcissism that she hadn’t heard him return. A cringe crept through her, but the pretense was necessary, she reminded herself. She did not need to impress him…only impede him.

“Your Grace, you move like a ghost,” she teased with a fluttery laugh when he retook his place at the table. “If you were ever to remarry, your wife shall have to put a bell on you. I know I would.”

“Oh, my dears, how lovely!” Lady Willington burst out, clapping her hands in delight, obviously catching—and misinterpreting—the last part of the conversation. “Is there to be a marriage announcement between you two? How positively delightful!”

They both froze at that. Lisbeth looked like she was about to split her sides with mirth, while the duke seemed to be caught in Medusa’s stare. A look of revulsion crossed his features. Bronwyn’s stomach dipped. To her dismay, she wasn’t at all relieved that her ploy had worked so well.