The lines of his face were sharp, almost fierce, and yet they softened into a smile and that dimple appeared again. “I told my twin sister as much.”

Ophelia stared at him in fascination. “You have a sister?” It was hard to imagine a female version of him.

He nodded. “Louisa.”

The carriage was silent except for the rising whine of wind. As if gravel was thrown at the glass, a flurry of snow hit the windows.

He pulled back a flap of her silk curtains. “That came on fast.”

“Has it turned into a snowstorm?” Ophelia frowned and plucked open the curtain at her side. In the light cast by the torches attached to the sides of her carriage, snow swirled thick and glossy. The fairy tale–like fluff that she had glimpsed over the duke’s shoulder when he first joined her had turned into a howling dervish. The carriage was progressing at a crawl.

“Bisquet was concerned about snow,” she confessed. “I don’t live far from Lady Gryffyn’s house, though, just on the other side of Hyde Park.”

“In my experience, coachmen generally favor staying tucked up in a warm stable feeding their horses hot mash and themselves a hot toddy.” The duke dropped the curtain.

Outside, the sudden storm battered the carriage, and Ophelia knew that if he hadn’t been there, she would have felt rising anxiety, if not pure terror. How would she get home to Viola? What if the carriage overturned?

Instead she felt rosy, hot, and unsure after their kisses. Her stomach clenched, wanting more—more kisses, more caresses, more. That unusual sensation, put together with a wave of anxiety due to the quick-rising storm, made her uncertain and off balance.

The duke looked utterly calm. It was only when she met his eyes that she saw emotion there, and the expression in his gaze had nothing to do with storms. His eyes were fiery with desire held tightly leashed.

“We’re already well into Hyde Park and will arrive at your house in no time.” He sounded so sensible. He couldn’t be trembling, the way she was.

Then he reached out and caught one of her hands and brought it to his lips, and she caught another flare of desire in his eyes.

The storm didn’t unsettle him—but she did. That was a surprisingly satisfying thought.

“Thank you,” she said, forcing herself to relax. Her breath was catching in her chest, but she wasn’t sure whether it was due to the storm or his kisses.

“I might as well point out that there are advantages to having a husband,” His Grace said, his dimple making an appearance.

“Are you planning to clamber out and take the reins?” She didn’t take her hand away. His was comforting, a big male hand that looked capable of anything. “You have calluses on your fingers . . . from driving?”