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Giles was still holding her reticule. “Did this purse belong to one of your father’s female ancestors?”

“Oh, no! My father may be a duc now, but his grandparents were people of modest means.” Yasmin reached out for her purse. “Napoleon gave this to my mother.”

Giles blinked. “Had it belonged to Joséphine?”

“Certainly not! The former emperor bought it for Maman in a small shop near the Louvre, during the first week of their courtship, if you can call it that. She gave it to me, because she is not fond of antiques.” She started fiddling with the purse. “Of course, my mother did accept other gifts from the emperor.”

“May I remove the hat?” Giles asked, wishing Napoleon had been impotent and unable to entertain ladies at all.

She nodded. Giles carefully lifted away the hat with his left hand, dropping it on the floor. With his right, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers caressing her cheek.

Yasmin’s eyes flew to his.

“May I kiss you?” he asked. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you last time.”

He could have sworn that he saw desire in her eyes, but she gulped and looked away. “After what you said . . . I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Her fingers must have tightened on the purse, because it popped from her fingers and overturned, spilling its contents on the carpet.

Giles bent over at the same moment she did.

One small pot of lip color, a comb—and a condom. Sometimes known as a French letter. It lay on the floor, adorned with a yellow-colored ribbon, a frivolous scrap that informed him that Yasmin may take pleasure, but she protected herself from pregnancy and disease.

He pulled back his hand. “Forgive me.”

“It’s not my—” But she broke off, dropping the condom back into her bag, along with the other small items. No powder and no face paint, he noticed.

When she straightened, Yasmin’s cheeks had turned scarlet.

Giles cleared his throat and tackled the subject head-on. “You needn’t be embarrassed.”

Yasmin gulped some air and said, “No?” in a wheezy voice.

“Absolutely not. Any man or woman who engages in intimate pleasure ought to use one of those to prevent the birth of unwanted children.” She still looked so horrified that Giles astonished himself. “I may well be one of those children.”

“What?”

“My mother was carrying a child when she married, and my father knew that it wasn’t necessarily his child. My mother was of the opinion that I am the child of her lover, but there was no obvious sign either way. In novels, they solve the issue with a secret mole, but I have no such marker of fatherhood.”

Yasmin’s eyes widened.

“No one is aware of that.”

“I won’t tell a soul!”

Across the room, the butler opened the door and ushered in two footmen carrying heavy silver trays.

“I didn’t want you to think that I would condemn you for engaging in intimacies. I would prefer that my own marriage be chaste, and I shall never commit adultery, but I understand the impulse.”

Yasmin opened her mouth and shut it again. For the first time since he had met her, she seemed to be silenced.

The butler ordered one of the footmen to place a low table before the couch. He then directed the positioning of a number of delicacies while the second footman poured cups of tea. Giles regarded the feast rather grimly. In order to make certain that they missed the three-hour deadline for the scavenger hunt, he would have to eat all of the cake, though he didn’t care for sweets. As well as drink many cups of tea, a beverage he took sparingly, if at all.

“Thank you very much, Carson,” Yasmin said. “I didn’t have a chance to ask this morning, but how is your nephew faring? Becky told me that you had a letter yesterday.” She turned to Giles and explained, “Carson’s nephew is serving in the army, stationed near Paris at the moment. We’re all very proud of him.”

“He is doing well,” the old butler said, smiling broadly. “His letter asked for stockings because it’s perishingly wet in France. Mrs. Carson started on a new pair last night.”

“Excellent,” Yasmin said. “His Lordship and I are going to Covent Garden after tea, and we shall buy some yarn. We’d like to do our part in supporting His Majesty’s troops, wouldn’t we, Giles?”

Giles was thinking about the fact that his family considered servants to be employees worthy of their hire. He had been taught to be respectful—but affectionate? His mother would have been perturbed by Yasmin’s friendliness.