“I am not—”

“You are,” she said, cutting him off. “I would guess that you listened to your sister’s opinion of my gown. Do you know that she was the one who added Napoleon’s hat to the list of scavenger hunt items? Silvester asked one of his sisters. I am the only person in London who could produce such a hat, which Lydia knew.”

“I see.” A touch of red appeared high on Giles’s cheeks.

“You gave her that weapon by telling her I owned the hat.” Anger drained away, leaving Yasmin in a pit of despair. She’d made a terrible mistake, nearly as bad as her relationship with Hippolyte. “I believe I will retire to the country for the rest of the Season,” she said, making up her mind on the spot. “You and Lydia can finish the Season together. I would be grateful not to be in her vicinity.”

“You can’t leave London!”

For once, Giles’s eyes were unguarded. Yasmin knew that look: desire. Lust. The mere sight of it made her tired.

“This decision shouldn’t be made when we are both overwrought,” he said, exhibiting the nimble ability to shift arguments that made him so successful in the House of Lords. “You cannot go to the country immediately. You accepted the Prince Regent’s invitation to a reception tomorrow.”

Yasmin sighed. “Those receptions are dreadful crushes. His Majesty won’t notice if I don’t attend.”

“Your grandfather is looking forward to bringing you to court, albeit not to one of the queen’s drawing rooms. I shall be there, since Lydia and Lord Pettigrew will be introduced to His Majesty as a betrothed couple. We can talk there, Yasmin. You can’t simply leave for the country without speaking to me.”

Yasmin knew full well that her grandfather would dig in his heels at the idea of departing London before the Regent’s reception. His Grace was determined to prove that England’s monarchs were more intelligent and forgiving than those of France. Or at least, than Empress Joséphine had been.

Why, why had she fallen in love with a man who wanted her but didn’t like her? Why had she been so stupid? An idea struck her, and she blurted it out. “Do you think I agreed to marry you because it’s not enough to be my mother’s daughter and have a scandal in my past? You said I dress to flout society’s opinion that I’m a strumpet. Did I promise to marry you in order to punish myself?” Her voice shook.

Giles’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his warm, naked body. “No, Yasmin. No.”

A sob pressed the back of her throat, but she fought against it, stepping backward, pulling free of his embrace. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of making a scene.”

“Yasmin!”

“I do hope that you manage to convince Lord Pettigrew to walk up the aisle.”

Giles flinched.

“It will probably be as good a marriage as any,” Yasmin said dryly. “I don’t hold out much hope for fidelity.” She wished she had snatched back the words but it was too late.