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Giles fought to control a stab of pure fury. “You and I know better than most that cruel gossip should never be shared or even listened to.”

She tossed her head. “If you are referring to our father, I consider that a lamentable episode that should be forgotten.”

Episode? Of course, she had been very young when the late earl took his life.

“Our father was weak.” She said it fiercely. “I’m old enough to acknowledge the truth about him. He wasn’t just unhappy. He was a criminal, a thief.”

Giles flinched. “Who told you?”

“Those girls at the seminary,” Lydia stated. “They were never my friends and they never will be. Not given who my father was. Blanche was the only one who didn’t care.”

The carriage was silent for a moment, the only sound the rattle of carriage wheels over cobblestones.

“Our father was hounded to death by gossip, which is why I am not happy to find you engaging in it. He left a letter saying as much.”

“Why shouldn’t they gossip about him? He stole money from a church. That’s what they all said. From a church.”

“He was a very young man, not old enough to think clearly. Sometimes young people do foolish things,” Giles said, watching Lydia closely. “Things that society doesn’t approve of.”

The carriage jolted to a halt.

Lydia laughed, quick and fierce as a fox’s bark. “You can’t possibly be comparing the fact I’ve kissed a few men to stealing money from a church. Hundreds of pounds, as I heard.”

“Both things can wound a person’s reputation.”

“Those girls that I mentioned, Giles?”

“Yes?”

“Their brothers, Lord Pepper among them, follow me like lambs to the slaughter.” Her mouth curled in a smug smile. “I could have any of those men with no more than a snap of my fingers. Any of them. I am an earl’s daughter, after all, and my dowry is one of the largest on the marriage mart.”

“That is a remarkably vulgar statement,” Giles said, keeping his voice even. “Ladies risk more than their reputation by accompanying gentlemen into secluded pathways. You could be injured, Lydia. No more improprieties with Lord Pepper.”

He was fairly sure his sister was grinding her teeth.

“I will agree only if you never again waltz with Lady Yasmin!” she retorted.

A groom opened the door, and Giles nodded to him. When Lydia stepped off the mounting block, he tucked her hand into his arm and began to escort her to the Duke of Trent’s imposing mansion.

Two matrons dressed in purple gowns charged the front door ahead of them.

“Everyone knows you accompanied Lady Yasmin into the garden last night,” Lydia said in a low, vehement voice. “You engaged in improprieties. If you’re not careful, Giles, she will contrive to compromise you.”

He held his tongue.

“Fine,” Lydia said, once a footman had taken her pelisse. “I will avoid Lord Pepper. But only on the condition that you have nothing to do with Lady Yasmin.”

Giles blinked at her. “I have almost nothing to do with her now, Lydia.”

“Lord Pepper for Lady Yasmin. No dancing. Absolutely no walks in the garden. You should have heard Lady Dunlap gossiping about the two of you last night!”

“Very well.”

“Of course, if Lady Yasmin becomes the Duchess of Huntington, you may dance with her as much as you wish,” Lydia said in a conciliatory way, just as they reached the end of the receiving line. Her lips tipped up into a smile, though her eyes were cold. “Make her your mistress, if you wish. I merely want to ensure that she doesn’t weasel her way into marriage with you, ruining our family name.”

Giles bit back a retort and said, instead, “I’d rather you didn’t dance with Pepper even if you become a duchess. He’s not a gentleman.”

Her face eased. “You are a stick in the mud, Giles, you do know that? My friend Blanche thinks it’s quite adorable.”