“Good God, Val, you want her to be guilty,” Lisbeth deduced, leaning closer and watching his face with an intensity he was used to seeing when she was interrogating others. It had never before been directed at him, and Valentine fought not to move from the uncomfortable force of it. “What happened out there? What was the message?”

“She claimed it was to foil an abduction attempt of Lincoln. I doubt it was real, though she met with Mary Bowser, part of Crazy Bet’s intelligence ring.” He glowered harder, banishing his misgivings. “And don’t ignore the fact that she stole my report.”

“Or someone gave it to her,” Lisbeth mused. “You said it was the page that had the names of Sommers’s contacts? What if it was a credible threat?”

“There’s no way for us to know until we get back.” He exhaled. “She won’t say who her contact is.”

“I wouldn’t either, until I was certain of immunity.” A small smile curled her lips as she sat back in her chair. “Told you she was smarter than you gave her credit for.”

“I never said she wasn’t smart.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “You should have seen yourself whenever the girl came anywhere near your sphere. The infallible Duke of Thornbury scurrying for cover, in case her perceived witlessness was an infectious disease. I believe the words you used to describe her were ‘charmingly dim.’ She sure had you fooled.”

He pressed his lips together. “I never scurry.”

But she’d had him fooled. And that rankled.

Something like a whisper skated across his nape, and Valentine looked up just as the object of his unfortunate obsession entered the lounge. He hadn’t expressly told her that she wasn’t on ship’s arrest, but her maid hadn’t been given orders to keep her to her stateroom. Besides, locking the sister of the owner away would draw too much attention. They might not be in London, but most of the passengers were English and tasty gossip was still a meal course.

A pair of brilliant blue eyes met his and held. Every nerve in his body leaped to attention at the challenge in that stare.

“Feel like scurrying now?” Lisbeth teased wickedly.

With a glare, Valentine signaled a hovering footman and ordered a whisky, hoping it would take the edge of whatever this new feeling was. When had the sight of her become as important as breathing?

The moment he was sure that Lisbeth’s attention was elsewhere, he stole another glance. Bronwyn looked nothing like the urchin of the past few days, dressed in a sumptuous lavender gown trimmed in delicate embroidery. Her curls were draped in an elegant updo, amethysts winking in and out of the glossy strands. Lady Bronwyn Chase was every inch the lady.

Every inch the consummate actress.