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Stella didn’t dare look at her aunt, who certainly did not consider herself elderly and wouldn’t appreciate being compared to a cow.

After handing over her cloak, she took Silvester’s arm and headed toward the other tent, where Giles stood beside Lydia and Yasmin.

Lady Yasmin turned to greet them. She was wearing a ravishing gown that made her legs look twice as long as Stella’s. Almost all of her bosom was exposed, and her translucent sky-blue overskirt blew in the light breeze, emphasizing the shapeliness of her legs.

But her smile was so kind that Stella couldn’t hate her for being so enchanting. If she were a man, she’d probably be trying to push Silvester and Giles out of the way and court Yasmin herself.

Stella had scarcely finished her curtsies when Lydia pulled her to the side. “I only came in order to speak to you,” she whispered. “I shan’t stay. Lord Pettigrew will escort me to Gunter’s later this afternoon.”

Stella tucked her lips into a smile, hoping that Lydia hadn’t come up with more advice.

“My brother takes my opinion very seriously. I am seriously considering whether I should inform the earl that he should marry you.”

Stella’s eyes slid over to the Earl of Lilford, who was looking down at Yasmin with an unreadable expression. She couldn’t imagine that he would allow his sister to command his choice of wife. “That’s very kind of you,” she managed.

“It’s my duty as his only family member,” Lydia reported. “It would be helpful if you could look more ladylike. My brother is quite proper. The spectacles, for one thing, but you should also rethink that lip color. Your mouth is somewhat large, isn’t it?”

Stella realized that although she was beginning to cautiously like Blanche, she didn’t feel the same about Lydia, whose blue eyes were flat, somehow, and mean. “I can’t see without my spectacles. I might topple into the river.”

Lydia frowned. “They do give you the air of a bluestocking, which is good. Giles needs someone who can discuss the news of the day.” She hesitated. “I try, but I can never think of anything to ask.”

Stella always had questions. About everything. “That isn’t a problem for me.”

“I had hoped that he would take a penchant for Blanche. But she can’t be bothered to read the Times,” Lydia explained. “When she does, she doesn’t understand it, which is practically the same thing, isn’t it?”

“I see,” Stella said, wondering if she was supposed to comment on Blanche’s claims to literacy. She had a suspicion that Blanche pretended to be far more ignorant than she truly was. In short, Stella should be imitating her.

“You may be just what we’re looking for in a countess,” Lydia mused.

Stella cleared her throat. “Because I know how to read?”

Lydia nodded. “You have excellent breeding, and you’re not courting scandal like Lady Yasmin.” There was a jittery dislike in her comment. “Not that her departure from the scavenger hunt in the company of my brother was indicative of illicit behavior, no matter what people say. Giles assured me that he escorted the lady to her home. She was fatigued and bored. They don’t have events like that in France.”

“I haven’t seen Lady Yasmin do anything imprudent.” Stella had watched Yasmin flutter away if a man pressed her hand too tightly or leaned in too closely. In fact, the only time Yasmin had ever courted scandal was when she didn’t return with the earl.

“The woman dampens her petticoats and worse,” Lydia said with a curl of her lip. “We can’t have that in the family. Giles is far too intelligent to fall for her wiles. He dances with her once a night merely from politeness, but I have asked him to refrain from the practice in the future.”

“I see,” Stella murmured.

“There’s been enough gossip about the two of them. Your reputation is pristine,” Lydia said.

Because: male lust is wildly overestimated.

But Stella kept her mouth shut. She had, after all, seen Lydia slip from the ballroom on occasion, in company with a young man. It suggested that Lydia prompted lust, even if she didn’t.

A depressing conclusion.

“I suppose we’d better return to the tent,” Lydia said. “You mustn’t get any more freckles.” She tucked her arm through Stella’s as if they were the best of friends, drawing her back to the group.

Yasmin was seated on a sofa, chatting with Harold Rowson, who had just arrived with his fellow countrywoman, the Duchess of Trent. Lydia seated herself beside them, and Stella walked over to stand beside Merry, gratefully accepting a glass of champagne and nodding to Silvester and Giles.

“Hello, darling,” Merry said, giving Stella a kiss rather than a curtsy.

“We have been discussing our most memorable summers,” Giles said.

“These two knew each other as boys and spent one summer careening about the country on ponies,” Merry explained.

“Not ponies,” Silvester said with a deep laugh that made Stella’s skin prickle. “We were eleven years old. We were on proper horses by that age.”