“I was wrong to try to ask you to dress differently,” Giles said abruptly. “You are exquisite in whatever you wear, and it’s none of my business.” He stopped. “I was just so damned jealous, Yasmin. I started to feel as if I was losing my mind.”

Yasmin’s throat ached so she cleared it. “You quite naturally want your countess to be dignified and proper.”

“No,” he said flatly. “I just want my countess to be you. You, whatever you wear. I don’t want you to blanket yourself in fabric. I want you to be yourself, to dress as you wish. You’re perfect just as you are.”

A little spark of joy made itself known, but Yasmin reminded herself that they had to talk about several things, including the baby. She looked down at the basket, trying to figure out how to discuss love without sounding wretchedly childish.

The basket was full of letters. Surely that was a good sign? “Why did Lydia do it?” Yasmin asked, turning over a couple. “I know she didn’t like me but this is . . .”

“You will never see her again. Ever.”

Yasmin sighed. “She’s your sister, Giles.”

His jaw set. “Did my silence make you unhappy, Yasmin?”

She found one of her letters, avoiding his eyes. “Yes.”

“I lay awake at night, tormenting myself by imagining you turning away from me. At breakfast, she read aloud newspaper accounts pairing you with other men.”

Yasmin bit her lip. “I thought you had forgotten about me when I wasn’t there. Or that you had realized Lady Stella would make a better countess which, to be fair, she surely would.”

Giles lunged to his feet and drew his hand through his hair. “I can’t keep you separate from my working life, Yasmin!” His voice was a growl. “I can’t stop thinking of you, day or night. I didn’t know if you were safe or happy. If you hated me or had injured yourself. The last weeks were endless.”

“Then why?” she asked, but her voice quavered.

“Why didn’t I come to you? Why didn’t I drop Lydia with a chaperone and find you, wherever you were? Jake Addison would have done it. He as much as charged me with being an idiot.”

Yasmin knew the answer to his questions.

Jake was in love with Cleo, and that made all the difference.

“Our marriage won’t be the same as theirs,” she said, clearing her throat. “After I broke off our engagement—”

He wheeled about. “You broke off our engagement?”

Yasmin fidgeted. “In a letter.”

“I never received it. Presumably, it’s in the basket.”

He crouched down in front of her. “I want you to care.” The words sounded as if they were wrenched from his chest.

“I do care. I—I do. Why didn’t you come find me?” Despite herself, her voice had a thread of anguish.

“It would have meant that I had to admit to feeling.” His jaw flexed. “I’m damned jealous of any man near you, Yasmin. It was easier when I couldn’t see you across the room. But I couldn’t—I couldn’t bear the—” He stopped and started over, the most eloquent man in the House of Lords floundering.