“Why?”

“He’s handed off his sister, but he is not coming straight to your side like a homing pigeon. In fact, he’s not looking in this direction, which suggests that he knows exactly where you are.”

Yasmin flipped open her fan and waved it lazily before her face, just in case Giles did look in their direction. But he didn’t. As she watched, Merry introduced him to a soberly dressed young woman with her hair in a no-nonsense chignon and spectacles perched on her nose.

“The Marquess of Tatton’s granddaughter, Lady Stella,” Silvester said.

“She looks very serious.”

“Indeed, she is not a fribble like ourselves. Doesn’t give a damn about appearances since, as you’ll notice, she’s wearing spectacles, rather than carrying a lorgnette. The earl could always instruct the family portraitist to pretend the spectacles don’t exist. I’m sure he expects perfection in his wife—or at least will want to pretend he’s found it.”

“You’re being rather unkind,” Yasmin said, unable to stop herself. “I don’t think Lord Lilford is so shallow that he’d pretend his wife doesn’t wear spectacles.”

Silvester’s gray eyes were sharply ironic. “The earl is so shallow that he won’t allow himself to court you because he doesn’t approve of your gowns.”

Yasmin waved her fan while she thought about that. “You underestimate his dislike of my frivolity.” By which she meant her reputation.

“Lady Stella should suit him. She wields her intelligence like a hammer. It’s her most obvious characteristic, the attribute she presents to the world.” He glanced at Yasmin’s bosom and waggled an eyebrow.

“You’re suggesting that I do the same with my bodices?”

“I cannot answer because I promised never to make an improper remark to you again,” Silvester murmured. But his eyes laughed at her.

“What do you present to the world?” Yasmin asked. “What is your most evident characteristic?”

He shrugged, humor disappearing. “Oh, Lilford and I don’t need a character or any characteristics. We carry our titles with us, as if they were emblazoned on our foreheads. They prove irresistible, in my experience.”

Yasmin gave him a frank look. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

“You are the exception,” he said, catching up her hand and kissing it. Yasmin looked up to find Giles’s eyes on them, but he turned away and walked into the ballroom, the bespeckled lady on his arm.

Somehow, after that, the evening lost its sparkle. Yasmin and her grandfather had the honor of dining with Queen Titania and King Oberon—Merry and her duke—but even the fact that Silvester had been invited to join them didn’t raise her spirits.

Her grandfather, on the other hand, enjoyed himself thoroughly, arguing with Merry about the cultural differences between America and Britain.

“You British have honed the art of rudeness,” Merry informed him.

“Rudeness is like cockfighting,” the duke retorted. “I’ll grant you it’s an unpleasant sport, but hardly confined to my nation.”

Silvester had been talking to the young lady whom he escorted to supper, but he turned to Yasmin. “What particular rudeness is in question?”