I am afraid of myself too. I’ve lost the control I pride myself on. Did you realize that if you kick a man in the right place, you can rupture his spleen? I’m not sure what the organ does, but I lie awake at night and imagine that I’d done that to Hippolyte Charles, rather than merely knocking him out.

You were sixteen, Yasmin. A baby, in anyone’s eyes. Where was your father? Why did no one revenge you?

I cannot bear thinking of you, innocent and naïve, tricked by that revolting man, who has to be twenty years older than you.

You may not be reading my letters. If you open this one, I want you to know that my respect for you has only deepened after learning of his seduction. You were taken advantage of, yet did not allow him to steal you, the essential you, the joyful you. You did not allow his evil intentions to define you.

I suspect you already know what I want to say next. It took me a while to realize it.

I’m in love with you, Yasmin.

I am madly in love with you, and if you don’t marry me, I shan’t marry at all, because you are the only person I will ever love so much.

Except perhaps our children.

With every wish for your happiness,

Giles

There was silence in the room after he stopped reading. When they finally stopped kissing, Yasmin asked, “What day did you write this letter, Giles?”

“May twelfth.”

She pressed another kiss on his lips. “You were indeed ahead of me, then.” She rolled to the side and shook open her letter, dated May thirteenth.

When she had finished reading aloud, Yasmin decided that no one else in the world had seen that smile on the Earl of Lilford’s face, and perhaps no one would, at least until their first child was born.

They pushed the remaining letters to the side so they could make love again. Over tea and toast, delivered discreetly to their door, they read aloud the remaining letters.

“They smell so dusty,” Yasmin said, wrinkling her nose. “These days, any strong odor makes me nauseated, Giles. It’s a dreadful side effect of carrying a child.”

“I sympathize. Occasionally, the Thames reeks so that I cannot bear to go near it.”

“What about linseed oil?”

“Putrid,” he said with a shudder.

Yasmin rolled onto her side and propped herself upon on an elbow. “I have been thinking about your nose, Giles.”

“It’s not as pretty as yours,” he said, leaning in to nuzzle her.

“Your father couldn’t bear linseed oil, and his father couldn’t either, and neither can you.” She waited until his eyes registered what she was saying. Then she brushed a kiss on his mouth. “Not that you weren’t already the earl, but it seems the title came to you along with a nobleman’s nose.”

“I love you,” Giles said hoarsely.

“I love you too,” Yasmin said somewhat drowsily.