“We’re to travel on this… contraption?” How she managed to inject so many emotions into one sentence, he couldn’t say. Shock, offended indignation, and the one he’d been hoping for… anticipation. 

 

“It’s not as though we’re traveling to London, your grace.” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. 

 

Elegant hands fluttered to the top buttons of her coat. 

 

Thomas bit down harder when she licked her lips. 

 

“Have you never ridden in a curricle, Duchess?” The sheltered lives of nabobs never failed to surprise him. Had her husband not ever taken her for romantic picnics in the springtime? Had her sons not ever shown off a new vehicle to their mother?

 

She was shaking her head side to side. “Lucas had one. But no.” She stepped around to the back, seemingly examining the integrity of what he planned to carry her away on top of. “I’ve never ridden in one.”

 

Without giving her any more opportunities to change her mind, Thomas stepped forward and placed one hand on her slender waist. “Put one foot here, Duchess.” He pointed to a narrow ledge a little over two feet off the ground. When he moved to assist her, she instinctively dropped one hand onto his shoulder. 

 

Her clean scent carried a hint of rose. He’d never appreciated flowery perfume on women before. It had always seemed too strong, overpowering even. But not on the duchess. On her, it was perfect. Subtle. Restrained.

 

He couldn’t help leaning in for a second whiff as he lifted her the rest of the way to the seat. 

 

She gasped slightly when he did so. She didn’t cry out though. Or complain. She did all things with dignity.

 

Which gave him cause to wonder…