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“I’ll accompany you, Lady Yasmin,” Algernon said eagerly. He stuck out his bony elbow.

Giles cast him a look, and he clapped his arm to his side.

“Alas, I could not accompany you into the gardens, Mr. Dunlap,” Yasmin said, lowering her voice. “What would your mama think if I compromised you, albeit accidentally?”

“But—”

“As everyone knows, Lord Lilford and I have no affection for each other, so I regularly allow him to accompany me for a breath of fresh air.”

Yasmin paused to see whether Giles would counter her description of their relationship, but his face didn’t move. She could hardly say that was a surprise.

She smiled at Algernon. “You might tempt me to an indiscretion.” He tipped toward her, like a statue poised to crash to the ground.

“Lady Yasmin,” Giles said, unmistakable impatience in his voice. His eyes had darkened to sea green. In another proof of her idiocy, Yasmin had wasted an absurd amount of time thinking about the color of Giles’s eyes.

Last Season, when he was wooing her friend Cleo, they had been a silvery gray. After Cleo married Jake, sunny had turned wintery. This Season the earl stalked around the ballroom on the hunt for the perfect countess, his eyes darkened to an icy green. She’d never met anyone whose eyes shifted like that, from one color to another.

As Giles led her through the ballroom into the large drawing room, she caught sight of Cleo and waggled her eyebrows. “Supper,” Yasmin mouthed. Cleo smiled and nodded.

On the far end of the drawing room, large doors stood ajar, leading to the gardens. A few couples were standing just outside, within sight of sharp-eyed chaperones. Lydia was not among them.

“Neither Lydia nor Pepper are here,” Giles said as they reached the door, evident relief in his voice. He wasn’t as certain of his sister as he claimed.

“I expect she tore a flounce,” Yasmin said. “Lord Lilford, if you’ll excuse me, I see friends seated in the far corner, so I shall join them.”

“No.”

She blinked at him.

He narrowed his eyes in return.

“I’m sorry I mentioned your sister’s absence from the ballroom,” Yasmin said. “Surely we needn’t actually go outside.”

For one thing, that would have everyone chattering about them, which she was certain the earl would loathe. And for another, it might start raining. She dampened her skirts, but a damp bodice would be a step too far. She was wearing a short corset, and her breasts were generously sized.

“If there is any chance that Lydia is in that garden with Lord Pepper, I must know.” Giles’s voice was so grim that Yasmin sent up a special prayer to the patroness of naughty young ladies. There was no need for the earl to catch his sister canoodling with a man; after this evening, he would surely keep a closer eye on her.

Moreover, Lydia had been using her brother’s waltzes with Yasmin to cover up her indiscretions. But Yasmin didn’t intend to ever dance with Giles again.

Problem solved.

Chapter Three

Giles Renwick was accustomed to getting his own way, which invariably had a terrible effect on a man’s character. Luckily, Yasmin had no interest in taming the Earl of Lilford. His mother should have taught him manners long ago, and since the lady had failed in the task . . . it was too late.

If she kept telling herself that, one of these days she would believe it.

He would be a dictatorial, obstreperous husband, not even taking into account that if she, Yasmin, were waiting at the altar, he likely wouldn’t show up.

The two of them in proximity at an altar was as likely as shrimps learning to whistle.

Taking a deep breath, she allowed the earl to escort her onto the terrace, ignoring the curious glances that made her back prickle.

“I don’t see Lydia,” Giles stated.

Yasmin kept her gaze steady. “I expect that I was wrong.”

His brows drew together.