“I’ll be fine.” Unable to stop himself, his gaze traveled the room until he found Alice. She was staring at him from under her lashes, her brows pinched in concern.

Kit, is there something wrong?

He jerked his eyes away and gave her his back. She’d asked that question last night . . . but why? Blast, he hated not remembering. When he was that drunk, he was prone to talk about his family, his father, and how he had disappointed them all. Preston said the more Kit drank, the more morose he became. Had Alice seen him wallowing in self-pity?

Sighing, he rubbed his eyes.

“Certainly no one would care if you went back to bed,” the duke said.

Not sure why, but the comment stung. “And deprive the ladies of the most handsome and charming man here? I couldn’t possibly. No, as you Brits say, stiff upper lip and all that.”

A familiar brown-haired woman appeared on Lockwood’s other side. The duke, being absurdly polite, turned so as to not give her his back. “Miss Lusk,” he said, with a tip of his straw hat.

“Your Grace,” she returned with a small smile. “I trust you are well this fine afternoon.”

“Indeed. It is a lovely day and I cannot complain about the company.”

Alice didn’t bother greeting Kit. She acted as if he weren’t even there, instead studying the treats on the table.

“May I fetch you a slice of cake, Miss Lusk?” The duke gestured to the food. “Or a macaron?”

“Have you tried that sweet bread, Your Grace? That one there?” She pointed to the babka. “I think it looks divine.”

“No, I haven’t. Shall we try it together?”

Kit ground his teeth, wishing he could boast of Alice’s skills in helping to make the cinnamon bread.

“I’d like that.”

Lockwood cut two slices and dished them up, handing the first plate to Alice. She waited for the duke to have his own before lifting the bread with her fingers. “Three, two, one . . .”

At the same time, they both took a bite, and Kit ripped his gaze away from Alice’s mouth. Damn it all to hell. Had she done that purposely, knowing he’d be watching?

“Alice!” Mrs. Lusk rushed over and snatched the plate from Alice’s hands. “There’s no need for gluttony. We must leave some of the bread for others,” she hissed, then presented the duke with a saccharine-sweet smile. “Please forgive her rudeness, Your Grace.”

“There is naught to forgive, Mrs. Lusk. I’ve been known to have quite the sweet tooth myself.”

With one last sharp look in Alice’s direction, Mrs. Lusk carried the plate away and returned to her seat. Alice shrank, her eyes fixed on the grass under their feet, and Kit had the strangest urge to bundle her up in his arms and take her anywhere but here.