Though he never danced with her more than once, making it clear to all and sundry that he did so out of punctilious politeness rather than courtship. God forbid the Earl of Lilford should be suspected of wooing a woman of her reputation.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you would deliberately spread gossip,” Giles said, proving her point about his civility.

“You didn’t imply. You stated just that.” There was no reason to spend any more time with the man. But the absurd fascination she felt toward him prevailed, and she found herself saying, “Very well. I’ll walk into the garden with you.”

By now, Lydia would be heading back inside. In the past few weeks, Yasmin had noticed two important points: the girl invariably left the ballroom while Yasmin waltzed with her brother—and Lydia was always careful to be back in the room when the next dance began.

The Honorable Algernon Dunlap trotted up to them, and Yasmin shook her head. “We’ll have to dance later, mon chèr. The earl has kindly agreed to accompany me into the garden for a brief respite from the heat.”

“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.