Bronwyn whirled to find her aghast lady’s maid, whom she had dismissed for the evening, standing just inside the corridor. Given her intention to go to supper and then only the ball for a short while, she hadn’t needed Cora, and since the girl had been somewhat seasick, Bronwyn had left her to rest. “I got lost. Why aren’t you abed?”

The maid blushed. “I felt better, and Rawley thought I might enjoy a diversion.”

“Rawley?” Bronwyn croaked in slow-dawning horror. Her brother’s man of affairs was here?

No, no. It couldn’t be him. But what were the odds that someone onboard would have the same name? Bronwyn’s heart quailed but her brain rallied. It was a common name in the islands, wasn’t it? This had to be a fluke because if it was the same man, there wasn’t one chance in hell that he wouldn’t know exactly who she was, which meant that Courtland himself would be well aware of her impulsive transatlantic journey.

Not what her purpose was, of course. She’d been much too careful in covering her steps, but she hadn’t exactly hidden who she was. Once more, Bronwyn cursed herself for choosing the hide-in-plain-sight route. She should have worn a disguise. Too late now, however, when she’d thrown the name Lady Bronwyn Chase around like gold coin in a gambler’s den.

There’s no reason for him to be here.

It’s a coincidence, that’s all.

“Hullo, Little Bee.”

Oh, hell in a dratted handbasket. Her luck was absolute shit. Bronwyn’s heart dropped to her feet. Biting her lip, she turned to see the huge, handsome man leaning propped against the wall with his arms folded against his chest. Rawley resembled her brother with his close-cropped dark curls and midnight eyes, though his burnished skin was several shades darker than Courtland’s. Rawley favored Courtland’s mother’s family—the first Marchioness of Borne had been a mix of Indian and African descent—and he, too, was a striking blend of the two.

Normally, her beloved half cousin was pleased to see her. However, the easy smile that he usually had for her was conspicuously absent.

“Does Courtland know?” she blurted out.

Black brows rose. “That you’re on his ship right at this moment? Of course he does. You’re his sister. He knows where you are at all times.”

Damnation. Did that mean Courtland also knew what she was up to? Despite her instant dread at the thought of her mission becoming compromised because of her overprotective brother and his cousin, she hoisted her chin. “Why did you not make yourself known to me?” she demanded imperiously.