A clattering noise startled her out of her skin. Alexandra’s carnet—and its metal case—had tumbled to the floor. Sorry, she mouthed. “Who’s there?” The duke grabbed his razor from the washstand and whirled around. Emma cringed. There was nothing else to be done. “It’s me.” She popped up from behind the settee, giving him a smile and a jolly wave. “Just me. Only me. Definitely no one else.”
