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“I did indeed dance with both gentlemen.” Yasmin put a forkful of haddock into her mouth and forced herself to swallow.

Her grandfather raised his lorgnette and stared through it, his right eye hideously enlarged. “My good friend Mr. Happle seems to believe that you permitted the Earl of Lilford to escort you into the gardens. For an unremarkable perambulation, it need hardly be said.”

“That is also true.” Yasmin gave up on the fish and nodded to James, the footman assigned to stand behind her chair. He waited until the duke turned his attention to his breakfast, then whisked the plate away.

She smiled, and James winked at her.

“I found that surprising,” His Grace announced. “I myself have witnessed you and Lilford glowering at each other. In short, I thought you didn’t like the man.”

“I rashly informed him that his young sister, Lady Lydia, had left the ballroom in the company of Lord Pepper. He wasn’t pleased.”

Her grandfather’s eyes sharpened. “I agree with him. Not a good prospect, not good at all. I hear that Pepper is under the hatches, having wasted his money in rash bets.”

“The earl did not disapprove of Lord Pepper. He simply did not believe me. He was convinced that I would share untrue gossip about his sister, so he insisted that I accompany him into the gardens to prove that she had not done anything imprudent.”

At seventy-one years old, the Duke of Portbellow was still a formidable man. His brows drew together over a hooked nose that Yasmin was grateful not to have inherited. “Did he indeed?” His voice dropped an octave. “He thought you would destroy his sister’s reputation? Why? For the pleasure of it? That would not be the action of a lady, and while you may dress with a certain joie de vivre, you are nothing if not ladylike.”

Yasmin found herself smiling. Her heart had felt tight and pinched on waking, and it helped that her grandfather looked as if he was about to throw away his cane and slap Giles on the face with a glove. “He doesn’t like me, Grandfather. That is acceptable.”

“No, it isn’t. You are my granddaughter, and as such—”

“As such, every eligible peer must like me? You know that’s not the case. The Earl of Lilford is a good man, if somewhat rigid. He doesn’t care for my gossiping, my scanty gowns, and my mother’s influence on my conduct.”

“Your mother has no influence,” His Grace thundered.

Yasmin nibbled on her toast, raising an eyebrow at her grandfather. A good part of their détente was based on a mutual understanding that they both loved her mother. Mabel was infuriating and distinctly immoral, by civilized standards.

But they both loved her.

Sure enough, the duke subsided. “A small influence,” he grumbled. “I count Mabel responsible for those Frenchified gowns you wear. More to the point, Lilford should not have been so impolite to you, and so I shall tell him. Tonight!”

“I thought you didn’t plan to attend the Trent ball,” Yasmin said. She didn’t spare any sympathy for Giles. He deserved the scolding coming his way. Given that she would never waltz with him again—which meant they would no longer converse—she might as well leave his life in a burst of glory.

So to speak.

“I have changed my mind.”

“You will have to wear pink, red, or purple. Merry told me that her butler is going to turn away those who do not comply.”

His Grace snorted again. “My wardrobe will suffice.” He glanced to the side. “Toast!”

The footman snatched up another piece of toast and began hastily buttering.

“Don’t terrorize poor Edward,” Yasmin said. “Save your vehemence for this evening.”

“Oh, I shall,” His Grace said, a ferocious smile curling his lips. “It’s a pity that the earl’s parents aren’t alive, because I would—Well, no. That would be useless.”

“What were they like?” Yasmin asked, contemplating the surfeit of eggs on her plate.

“The late Earl of Lilford was a rotter,” her grandfather said bluntly. “And a coward. Shot himself when everyone found out his true colors.”

Yasmin put down her fork. “Shot himself?”

“Ugly affair,” her grandfather said, nodding. “The countess was never seen in society again. When she came to the city, it was only to visit the Inns of Court.”

“To visit her solicitor? Whom did she sue?” Yasmin asked, picking up a piece of toast. She felt a reluctant pang of sympathy for Giles.

“She sued the makers of the gun that her husband used to kill himself. She lost, but it put wind in her sails, and after that, no one was safe. She sued anyone who gossiped about her husband. She became obsessed.”