Even if he had chosen Lady Stella, he would have to change his mind, given the child Yasmin carried. A knot twisted in her stomach. Yasmin opened her mouth to give him the bad news, but he snatched her to her feet and kissed her hard.

“What?” she breathed, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss until her heart thudded in her chest. One hand curled around the back of her head, holding her in place, apparently not realizing she was clinging to him. It was wildly erotic and endearing at the same time.

By the time Giles drew away, Yasmin’s mind was reeling. He was not going to marry Stella. They still had fierce, sweet desire between them. Surely that was enough.

It would have to be enough, given the babe.

The thought made her drop onto the window seat again. “We must talk.” She curled her fingers, realizing her hand was visibly trembling.

Giles sat down and picked up the basket, putting it between them and flipping open the hinged top. Yasmin’s mouth fell open. It was full of letters: dusty, crumpled letters mostly franked with the Earl of Lilford’s seal.

“Unsent?” she whispered. She raised her eyes, flabbergasted. “What on earth?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Lydia.” Giles’s voice was even but she could hear grating fury beneath the word.

Yasmin blinked. “What?”

“My sister stole our correspondence.”

Yasmin reached out and turned over some letters. “You wrote all of these?”

“I wrote to you every day, though you never answered. I thought you’d left me, but I kept writing. I wanted to come to you, but I had to stay in London with Lydia.”

She stared down at the letters and then back up at Giles, stunned.

His mouth twisted, and he caught up her hands. “Did you think I didn’t care?”

“I thought perhaps you wanted a better . . . a different wife.” She swallowed hard around the knot in her throat. “Or you didn’t have time to write. You were too busy.”

Giles didn’t care for her as much as Yasmin would like him to . . . but marriage could take care of that, couldn’t it? He might fall in love with her in time.

Learn to love her.

The way your mother loved you? a small voice in the back of her mind inquired. Or your father, who blithely bid you farewell, not knowing if he’d see you again?

Yasmin took a deep breath. Suddenly she remembered the letter in which she bared her heart. The one that she had lain awake wishing that she hadn’t sent. She riffled through the pile, pouncing on a thicker one in her handwriting. “I’ll keep this one.”

His brows drew together. “Why?”

“Because I wish to.” She tried to stuff it in her pocket, but it wouldn’t fit, so she tucked it down her bodice instead. Giles’s eyes rested on her breasts. Her neckline wasn’t terribly low but her breasts were overflowing a bodice that used to fit. “There are no men here to gawk at me,” she said defensively. “I’m not creating a scandal.”