Through her stocking she could feel the gentle and remarkably intimate swipe of his skin over hers. Swallowing, she strove not to become lost in the lovely sensations. She had to keep her head about her and not do anything improper in front of witnesses, no matter that she was disguised. “I’ve never done anything remotely naughty.”

His gaze shifted from the exposed calf to her eyes. “Why tonight?”

Shaking her head, she was grateful the footman interrupted the conversation by returning with a tray bearing a glass of red wine. Aiden Trewlove straightened, took the glass, and offered it to her. While she’d stated her lack of interest in it earlier, she decided a sip or two might go a long way toward calming her nerves. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

“It wouldn’t do for the owner to get foxed.”

“I won’t be getting foxed either.” Still she sipped the wine, smiled at how smoothly it went down, how it warmed and gave her a sense of familiarity. “A fine vintage.”

“My sister Gillie owns a tavern. She’d have my head if I didn’t serve the best.”

“She married the Duke of Thornley.”

“Another detail with which you’re familiar.”

“As I said, you’re all the talk.”

He stretched back on his elbow. “Which puts me at a disadvantage as I know so little about you.”

“You know nothing at all about me.”

“I know you’re someone’s wife.”

She tensed, but his finger again trailed along her calf, distracting her, easing her back toward a more comfortable place. “You’re guessing.”

“Although you’re wearing gloves, I can see the outline of a ring on your left hand. You would have been wise to remove it before you came.”

She should have, but she’d worn it for nearly seven years now, hadn’t even thought about it. Unsettled to realize she hadn’t taken the simplest of precautions to protect her identity, she took another sip, striving—

“A duke I’d wager.”

And nearly choked on the wine. With a cough, she covered her mouth, barely aware of him taking the glass from her as she sought to regain control, to prevent the burgundy from killing her. Gently, he patted her back. When she was more herself, she took the glass from him, cautiously swallowed the rich wine to regain her equilibrium. “Why would you think that?”

“The manner in which you hold yourself as though everything is your due, the impression you give that you are in a place beneath you, a place in which you really have no interest, walking with a man who isn’t good enough to polish your shoes.”

“You are wrong there, Mr. Trewlove. I suspect you are applying your own prejudices to me. Not that I blame you, not if the rumors I’ve heard are true. They say your father is nobility.”