She snorted. “It won’t be that bad.”

“You’re right. It will be much worse.”

Valentine saw the moment Bronwyn took notice of the change in music as well as the transformation that came over her. The animation melted away. Eyes darting to the orchestra, her spine went ramrod straight, the delight fading from her expression and a studious blankness replacing it. Her throat worked, that full bottom lip disappearing between her teeth. Was she dreading the interlude as much as he was?

Valentine blinked, his brows drawing together as he watched her make apologetic excuses to the gentlemen around her. Those upturned lips shaped words that were easy to read even from where he stood—This dance is taken, I’m afraid. She gave an absent smile to the last of her admirers before he went to find his promised partner and wound her hands in her skirts to lift them slightly. Then she turned as if sensing his focus.

Brilliant blue eyes met his and held.

A handful of emotions bled through her gaze—curiosity, interest, trepidation, panic—before those skirts lifted higher and she whirled on her heel to dash through the doors behind her. The little minx was running!

“Guess she’d rather a swim as well,” came Lisbeth’s droll assertion.

But he didn’t stay to retort; he followed Bronwyn’s flight with swift footsteps. She wouldn’t escape so easily. A flick of indigo skirts caught his peripheral vision at the end of the corridor leading to the upper deck, the delicious cinnamon-and-apples fragrance teasing at his nostrils. He lengthened his stride, but she must have caught on to his pursuit because when he climbed the staircase to the deck, she wasn’t there. On the prior level, there was a library as well as a number of quiet, elegant first-class lounges. She could be in any one of those.

Valentine retraced his steps, peering into each of the dimly lit rooms only to be frustrated time and time again by unfamiliar occupants, when another whisper of her mouthwatering scent wrapped around him, leading him to a narrow staircase that led to the lower levels. Surely she wouldn’t go down there unaccompanied? Worry seeped through his veins.

The foolish twit was silly enough to do just that. While Ashvale’s staff tending to the ship were well paid and well treated, that didn’t mean she would be safe there. It would be like a lady venturing into a tavern in Whitechapel in the dead of night.

Bloody hell. Disquiet turned to something else in his churning gut.

Valentine ran.

Four

Oh drat it, she was lost!