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“Yet.”

“You are so sure of yourself, aren’t you, Your Grace?”

“Of course. Why would I be anything else? I am engaged to a lovely lady, and she is so very grateful to be engaged to me.”

“We are not engaged!”

“There’s that blush.”

“No, it isn’t!”

But she had raised a hand to her cheek to cover it, and she had been so clear that that was her intention that of course the Duke noticed, and it did not help matters.

“Do not hide it, it is sweet.”

“Ah yes, as Shakespeare once wrote, ‘See how like a maiden she blushes.’”

“Is that not the part of the play where he refuses to marry her?”

“It is, indeed. Perhaps you might do the same?”

“We are not all as fortunate as that.”

“I bestow upon thee the opportunity. Now, be careful, for I shall only offer this once. Would you give this rotten orange to your friend?”

“Whyever would I do that? That would mean that I could not have you for myself.”

Diana caught herself. Was she flirting? She had never done so before; she had never met a gentleman worth flirting with, and usually, they would take her attitude negatively and comment on it to her father, who was never happy with that. The Duke, however, seemed to almost like it.

It was either that or he was making the best of a bad situation. That was what she was doing, of course. She did not wish to be around him. She wished to be anywhere but beside him in the park, well aware that those out of earshot were discussing the match of the Season.

“The bluestocking and the murderer,” she said without thinking, and he bristled.

“What did you say?” he asked, his voice still quiet.

“Oh, nothing, Your Grace. I was only saying that?—”

“You are a bluestocking, and I am a murderer.”

“That we are seen as those things. I am not saying that I believe what has been said about you. I mean, I only found out because Samantha was concerned.”

“Lady Diana, it is quite alright. I am perfectly aware that you are not the person that people claim you are, nor am I.”

“I am willing to believe that, too.”

“Then we are in agreement. There is no harm in what anyone else says, so long as that remains unchanged.”

They continued to walk in silence, and Diana liked it. She liked that he was not the sort of gentleman to speak only of himself and how wonderful he was. She felt as though she had found a friend, and given her status, she could not have asked for much more than that.

“Why aren’t you angry with me?” she asked after a while.

“Have you given me a reason to be?”

“Well, I did call you a murderer, as far as you could have known, at least.”

“And you explained what you meant, and you were not truly calling me that. Why would I be angry about that?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”