“Oh, good, you agreed,” he said, miming a swipe of relief against his forehead. “I was prepared to snatch that bag right out of your hand to make you permit me to go with you.”
The laugh she let out was startled. This was better, this strangely usual combativeness between them. Who would have thought that she would ever be in a position where she could argue with a duke and, instead of feeling stark terror, she would laugh and consider it another regular day?
Her laughter died when she remembered that it wasn’t aregular day. It was thelast daythat things would be like this.
Ezra stole her bag anyway and strode out toward where his carriage was already waiting. The arrogant sot had really assumed that he would say yes, had he not? She followed him, shaking her head at his absurdity.
A duke, carrying her bags. Ridiculous.
The whole thing was so good-hearted and so utterly outlandish that Letty didn’t even pause to consider why this was a bad idea until they had gotten in the carriage together.
She and Ezra had gotten into enough trouble when they were in full-sized rooms with adequate light and no guarantees of privacy. Now, they were in a close carriage. Where it was dark. And where they would not be disturbed until they rumbled the long distance from Mayfair to the residential neighborhood bordering Covent Garden, where the small flat was located.
It would not be a quick ride.
Letitia could hear his breath and the faint rasp of fine wool when he shifted his position. His long legs meant that, no matter how far to one side she sat, he was always just a few inches away. She could smell him—the light, expensive scent of his laundry powder and the warm, masculine aroma of him.
She stared fixedly out the window.A building,she thought brightly to herself.Another building. Someone is sweeping manure from the streets. Just lovely.
The scenery did not lend itself to intense focus.
“Letty,” Ezra said, disturbing her determined attempt not to notice him. “Talk to me.”
“Will you think me very rude if I decline?” she asked, adopting her most prim tone.
“No,” he said, “but I will think you a coward.” The words were harsh, but the tone was teasing. “Come, please. I told you I would respect your wishes; I intend to. But I do not wish for us to part on bad terms.”
It would have been unreasonable for her to refuse. He had not given her a single reason to be unkind, not when he had dealt with her honestly and generously.
She could be brave for a little while longer.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I don’t want that, either.”
Her hands were resting at her sides. He reached for one, as if he intended to hold it, then he stopped, recalling himself.
“You don’t need to apologize,” he said. “I am not a fool; I know your situation is more delicate than mine. I know that I might lightly gamble something that could spell ruination for you.”
Her laugh was a little bitter.
“I wish that just knowing it made it different,” she said.
“I do, too,” he said.
She was always afraid of scandal, but any scandal that could come from them being in a carriage together was already inevitable. She might as well be bold.
She reached out and touched his hand. He flipped his grip and squeezed her fingers once. When they let go, Letty felt, for the first time in a very long time, like she was truly in danger of crying.
She blinked quickly when the carriage finally rumbled to a stop, hoping to clear away any lingering wetness. If there were remaining signs, they could no doubt be attributed to the sudden increase in light as they stepped into the morning sun.
Ezra offered her a hand to help her down, as if she were a proper lady. It made Letitia feel a little hysterical, truth be told.
Fortunately, she managed to collect herself before speaking to the landlady, because Ezra did not treat her like men of his station often treated ladies, as if they had no brains in their heads. Instead, he let her converse with the neatly-dressed matron, merely standing nearby and lending his ducal countenance to the proceedings.
It would be so much easier if he would do justonething to make her furious with him. She spared a moment to fondly reminisce about the era when he had done nothing but irritate her.
“Well, ye seem respectable enough,” the woman said, her accent faintly Scottish, clearly worn down by years of residence in London. “I daenae like to rent to just anybody. But ye have good reference, and ye know the rent?”
“She does,” Ezra said, interjecting for the first time. “And I will personally speak to Miss Knightley’s honor. You will not have to worry about her paying on time.”
