He looked up and caught her intent gaze. “I like you in every way, Yasmin.”

She looked doubtful.

“I am not used to having my word mistrusted.”

“I’m not used to being blackmailed.”

“It’s only blackmail,” he said softly, “if you want me as much as I want you. Which would be for life, Yasmin.” He tipped up her chin. “I want you for life, not just on this settee, though I want that too. I want your smile next to me in the morning. I want your giggle over breakfast. I want your laughter. I want your chatter. God forgive me, I want your gossip.”

Her mouth formed a perfect circle. Giles cleared his throat. “Of course, you may not feel the same about me. I could . . . I could court you.”

Yasmin’s eyes were fascinated. “You could? What would that look like?”

“We would waltz together more than once an evening.”

“We do not waltz at all these days.”

“I could take you to the theater.”

“I strongly suspect that you view a performance of Hamlet with the same enthusiasm as a nougat almond cake.”

“I can’t stand the prince,” he confessed.

“He’s too emotional?” Yasmin surmised.

Giles shook his head. “We were actually studying ‘To be or not to be’ at Eton when the news arrived that my father had taken his life. Hamlet makes a philosophical mockery of something that rends a family apart.”

Her face softened and she leaned forward, dropping a kiss on his lips, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Giles.”

“It happened long ago.”

“I’m fascinated by the shape of your bottom lip. Do you only dislike Hamlet or theater in general?”

He hesitated.

“Courtship does not involve forcing people to go to events that they dread.”

“I could take you for rides in the park,” he offered.

“It would be interesting to see society matrons fall into paroxysms of curiosity at the sight of the two of us in a curricle. Have you thought this through, Giles? You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

There was just the faintest note of insecurity in her voice. He had the feeling that desire unnerved her.

Giles dusted a kiss on her mouth. “What man doesn’t want to marry you, Yasmin?”

“Until twenty minutes ago, I would have said you.”

“Would you—” He stopped. “Would you have any interest in marrying me?” He felt his gut tighten until his body was taut, waiting for her response. She was looking down at his hands. They circled her waist. From here, his hands seemed huge in comparison to her: his fingertips wide, clumsy, and male.

She stole a glance at him. “I can’t pretend that I haven’t imagined marriage to you.”

Relief whipped through him.

“I gather I wasn’t alone in feeling . . .” Yasmin, who had words for every occasion, seemed to have run out of them again.

“We have something between us, more than most couples,” Giles told her. “More than I’ve experienced with another woman. In fact, I don’t think I have ever felt anything for another woman.” He paused, but it was better to get it out now. “Ladies seem to believe that I am brooding and mysterious, Yasmin, but I am not. In social situations, I often can’t think what to say. I am a boring man.”