The grin fell from his lips. “You’re right. Forgive me. It was all just so unbelievable, and I was so very relieved to be free of any obligation to Miss Chandler. We should go home and be with my sisters.”

He tucked her gloved hand into the crook of his arm and led her back through the scented gardens.

Strolling through moonlit gardens with him wasn’t romantic in the slightest. Not given the circumstances. And climbing into a dark carriage with him, alone, was all part of her employment . . . hold just a moment. She was climbing into a dark carriage with him.

They would be alone.

Oh no. She hadn’t thought this all the way through. She squared her shoulders. No matter. She was only doing her duty. Being alone with Westbury as his sisters’ companion, and emissary, was all very respectable and aboveboard.

It was just as she’d said to her friends. It was all tidy and manageable. She needn’t even look at him. She’d open the curtains and stare out the window at the passing streets.

It was a brief journey.

The coach loomed ahead. A footman opened the door. Viola was about to use the step when the duke gripped her by the waist. “Up you go.” He hoisted her into the carriage and she landed with a startled thump on the cushions.

She was still recovering from the shock of his large hands around her waist when he climbed in and sat beside her.

“You’re light as a feather,” he remarked. “Are you eating enough? We’ll have to raid Cook’s larder tonight. You should eat more pastry.”

“I eat enough for sustenance.” And they hadn’t exactly had the money for rich repasts.

“Always so cautious. Do you ever loosen up and say something unguarded?”

“Only when provoked beyond reason.”

“Ah, like that day in the study. When you quit your employment in a fit of rage. But you never did manage to insult me properly.”

“I’m certain that the crowd in that ballroom has come up with a few new epithets.”

“I don’t care about them. I want to hear Miss Viola Beaton’s litany of libel. Go on then. You found me laughing in the gardens when my poor sisters lost their dowries yet again. I’m the most insensitive, arrogant, downright dastardly duke in the world. There.” He settled back in his seat and flung his legs out, crossing them at the ankle. “I’ve begun your list for you. It’s your turn.”

Her mind went blank, as it always did when she was in close proximity with him. All she could think was that his hands had been so very large and strong when he lifted her into the carriage. And his legs were so long, filling the length of the carriage.