“Nothing important,” she answered, leveling a frown at her grandfather.

“I was describing my conversation with the Earl of Lilford,” her grandfather chortled. “The man had the temerity to imply that my granddaughter would spread squalid gossip about one of his relatives! I set him straight.”

“He doesn’t know Lady Yasmin,” Silvester said.

Yasmin couldn’t help thinking of all the waltzes she’d shared with Giles, far more than she’d shared with Silvester, whom she’d only met this Season.

“Aye, there’s something to that,” her grandfather muttered.

Yasmin summoned up a smile, a bit tremulous. What Giles did know of her, he didn’t like. So why should he care to know more of her? The truth hurt, a dull pain in the area of her heart, but that was absurd.

The only relationship they had stemmed from waltzing and bickering.

Yasmin felt a touch on her shoulder and looked up to find Giles nodding in a tight-lipped way at the table. “Good evening, Lord Lilford,” she said, her heart suddenly thudding in her throat.

“I wonder if you could spare me a few minutes, Lady Yasmin,” he said.

“The first waltz has come and gone, and her dance card is full,” Silvester said, his voice a nice blend of courtesy and something else. Something a bit possessive.

No, very possessive, since he followed that up by putting an arm on the back of Yasmin’s chair.

“I am Lady Yasmin’s escort this evening,” her grandfather said, eyeing Silvester with a distinctly mischievous expression. “I suppose I will allow the Earl of Lilford a brief conversation.” He waved his thin hand, making the lace ruffles at his wrists flutter. “Off with you.”

Yasmin sighed and rose. “If you will excuse me,” she said to the table, curtsying.

They walked a few steps in complete silence before she said, “Is there some way by which I might help you, Lord Lilford? Or did you simply wish to stroll?” She allowed disbelief to leak into her voice.

“She’s gone,” Giles said, staring straight ahead and speaking so quietly that no one could catch his words.

Yasmin drew in a sharp breath. “Your sister? Where did she go?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t accompany her to supper.”

“You were seated with Miss Boodle,” she said, revealing that she knew where he sat before she could stop herself.

“My sister’s closest friend,” Giles said. “When I realized that my sister was nowhere to be seen, I excused myself. But I have been unable to find Lydia. She’s not in the drawing room or the ballroom. I have to ask you to go into the ladies’ retiring room. I didn’t . . . I didn’t want anyone else to know my concern.”

“I am certain that Lydia did not elope, if that’s what you’re worrying about,” Yasmin promised him. “She is still in the house.”

The Duke of Trent’s dining room opened into a grand foyer draped with strings of roses and ferns. They strolled out as if they were merely admiring the Shakespearean embellishments.