Five minutes later, she emerged, more put together and ready to depart. “There, now I am ready.”

The duke pushed off the wall where he’d been waiting and strode toward her, all athletic grace and male confidence. Lockwood was stalwart and steadfast, with hundreds of years of breeding and expectation heaped on those perfectly square shoulders. He was a lion . . . whereas Kit was more like a panther. A very enticing panther that would lead you—

She forced those thoughts aside. This was about an outing with a duke, a man who actually wanted a wife, not a confirmed bachelor. She would not think of Kit any more today.

Lockwood called the elevator and folded his hands behind his back as they waited. “Did you enjoy the rest of the opera the other night?”

“I did. You?”

“A bit more than the first half, I admit. It was very kind of you to visit me. The whispers and stares had grown quite tedious.”

Because of the broken engagement. “Society will recover. Another scandal will undoubtedly soon take its place.”

The passenger elevator arrived and the iron door slid open to reveal an empty car, except for the operator. “Good evening,” the older man said as she and Lockwood boarded. “Oh, Miss Lusk. Nice to see you.”

“Hello, Charlie.”

“Where are you off to today?”

“Ground floor,” Lockwood said. With a nod, Charlie closed the door and turned the switch. The elevator began its descent.

“How is your wife?” she asked the operator. “Not still fighting a cold, I hope.”

“No, she’s all better, miss. Thank you for inquiring.”

They arrived at the lobby and Charlie opened the doors. Lockwood gestured for her to exit, and as she passed, Charlie whispered, “You be careful now, miss.”

She smiled. “I will. Thank you, Charlie.”

Lockwood presented his arm. As they crossed the white-and-red marble floor, many heads swiveled their way. She waved to the manager, Mr. McMahon, who was behind the counter. “They look out for you, don’t they?” the duke asked.

“I suppose so. I’ve stayed here many times. They’re used to me.”

“I have been staying here since February and I haven’t learned their names.”

He had? Why hadn’t she seen him here? “What floor?”

“My suites are on the first floor. The Twenty-Third Street side.”

The porter held open the door, and she and Lockwood descended the steps to the walk. “The carriage is there.” He pointed to a sleek black open-air carriage at the curb. Nerves bubbled in her belly as he guided her over. There was no hiding while traveling in this conveyance. This outing was almost as if . . .

As if Lockwood wished to court her.