He took it without hesitation, accommodating her by kissing the back of it, though she felt nothing through the lace glove she’d worn. He must not have actually touched her with his mouth, which was a rather bold statement to make.

“If you would oblige me, Miss Dyer,” Basset said without releasing her hand. “May I have a brief word in private?”

Adelaide reared back as far as his hold on her would allow. “We may not be alone, sir, engaged to marry or not.”

The man somehow had the ability to roll his eyes without actually moving them. “I do not intend to be alone, just to the side.”

This could be interesting. “Very well,” she grumbled, allowing him to pull her aside.

Basset glanced over at her watching family, then returned his attention to her. “I would consider it a very great favor if, during the arrangement and purchase of your trousseau, you would arrange for a gown to be commissioned for someone else.”

Adelaide looked up at him in surprise, a derogatory air filling her lungs. “I will not have a gown made for your mistress while being fitted for my wedding!”

“Shh!” He frowned at her, his brow creasing slightly. “I do not have a mistress, nor have I ever had a mistress. What I do have is a very shy sister who cannot bring herself to attend our wedding, and I would like her to have a gown as if she would have been present.”

He had a… “What sister?” Adelaide asked in a very low voice, sensing the rising curiosity of her family. “I’ve never heard of you having a sister.”

“You’d never heard of me before any of this,” he pointed out, the creases in his brow smoothing.

Impossibly, Adelaide managed a small laugh at that. “True.” She leaned back, giving him a suspicious look. “Why are you asking this of me? You could have any modiste fix up a gown any way you like. You don’t need me to do that.”

For the first time that day, Basset looked remotely human as uncertainty entered his expression. “I know nothing of ladies’ fashions,” he admitted. “And I have no idea what will suit. I hadn’t even considered this until you mentioned the trousseau, or I would have asked her myself, or one of our neighbors. Please, Miss Dyer.”

Oh, he had to say please, didn’t he?

“Well,” Adelaide murmured, twisting her lips, “I might wish to plague you, but there is no reason your sister should suffer. What is her taste? Her coloring? Her size?”

Basset looked baffled now and purely mortal. “Erm… as tall as you, fairly slender, dark hair, very pale eyes. A little tanned, a few freckles. And I think… her tastes are simple?”