Giles appeared from the crowd and bowed before them.

Yasmin held out her hand for a kiss, so that he could appreciate the full impact of her bunched sleeves.

Naturally Giles didn’t let on by a flicker of an eyelash what he thought of her gown, simply touched the back of her glove to his lips. “Good evening, Lady Yasmin. Duke.”

“I suppose you’ve come to tear her away to dance,” Silvester said, rising to his feet. He bowed and departed.

Giles caught Yasmin’s hand, bringing her to her feet.

“I’m afraid I promised the next dance to Lord Boodle,” she said, dimpling at him. “I didn’t expect you to acknowledge my presence.”

“Will you allow me to escort you home?”

Yasmin blinked at him. “My grandfather—”

“I already spoke to him.”

“I don’t usually leave a ball this early.”

Giles’s eyes caught hers. “Please.” His voice was curt, even angry. But surely, that was desperation in his eyes?

She had the dizzying feeling that she would never be able to refuse Giles when he brought the word “please” into play, which didn’t bode well for their marriage. Earls needed to hear “no” at home, since the world so rarely refused them anything.

Then she blinked because Giles’s intent was suddenly clear. He was on the verge of kissing her in front of a crowded ballroom, and the devil take the hindmost.

She quickly stepped back and tumbled onto the couch in a flurry of ruffled skirts. By the time she got herself upright, Giles looked more bemused than lustful.

He held out his hand again. “Your sister?” Yasmin inquired once she was upright and he began marching through the room without glancing left or right.

“Taken care of,” Giles said.

Yasmin smiled at all the fascinated faces they passed. She felt feverish, a sweet ache in the pit of her stomach, her heart speeding from a grave polonaise to a merry waltz.

Giles must have already warned the butler, because they walked straight into the night to find his carriage waiting. He silently handed her into the vehicle. Yasmin waited until the door was closed, and the carriage jolted into movement, before she said, “May we kiss now?” She pouted at him because this was so much fun.

“No, because when you are in my arms, I plan to rip that dress down the middle,” her future husband stated in the calm way that he might say that the grain tax was too high or the sun was setting.

Yasmin’s heart notched up. Her nipples tightened, not that Giles could see through four layers of fabric. They sat staring at each other as the carriage made its way through the streets of Mayfair.

“Do you plan to rip my gown because it is ugly?” she asked finally, unable to sit silently any longer.

His eyes strayed over her. “You are more enticing when you cover yourself up, Yasmin. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“I knew that scandalously low bosoms and dampened skirts didn’t make a real difference. People think they can interpret character by what someone wears, but that is never true.”