“No one knows, Lydia,” Giles said gently. He got up and fetched a glass of water from the sideboard. “I am not a fraud, because I was born within the bounds of a legal marriage, as were you. I do not doubt that I am the person intended to carry the title I was born to.”

“Good for you,” Lydia said bitterly. “I don’t feel like that.”

Giles handed over the glass of water, and she drank some, hiccupping.

“If you marry Lady Yasmin,” she said in a scratchy voice, “you’re marrying a woman just like Mother. Your children will likely be as fraudulent as we are. You’ll never know if they’re really yours.”

“That is unjust and unfair,” Giles said.

“Oh, really?” She looked at him over the rim of the glass, her eyes drenched and miserable. “Do you think your bride-to-be is a virgin? Because I don’t think so.”

“That is none of your business,” Giles stated in his sternest voice.

“She’s no better than she should be,” Lydia retorted. “Everyone talked about it, when you left without a chaperone and didn’t come back. They said you’d gone off to shake the sheets.”

“I hope you did not join in this spiteful gossip?” Giles said, his voice hoarse with outrage.

His sister met his eyes. “Tell me that you weren’t enjoying her favors, and I’ll happily inform all the gossips that they are mistaken.”

Giles never lied. His lips tightened.

Lydia’s chin jutted forward. “Her children will be my nieces and nephews. I’ll watch them, knowing that someday they will have to go through the same hell I went through. Do you know why I was such a dunce my first Season? Because I was terrified that someone—such as those girls from school—would notice that you and I don’t look alike and figure out why. Neither of us resembles our supposed father.”

Giles pushed away the question of Yasmin’s virtue. His sister needed his attention. He took Lydia’s hand again. “I’m so sorry that you were unhappy and unable to confide in me.”

“I kept waiting for you to tell me about our parentage.” More tears poured down her cheeks.

“I hoped you would never learn the truth,” Giles admitted. “That was a mistake.” He dropped her hand and wrapped an arm around his sister’s narrow shoulders, guilt piercing him at the fragility of her shaking body.

“I didn’t want to be presented at court under a false name!” she wailed.

“It is not a false name. You are Lady Lydia. Our father loved you.”

“Not enough to stay in this world,” she said bitterly. “He knew I wasn’t his child. His wife betrayed him. He . . . he took his life because there was no one to keep him here.”

“Not due to that reason,” Giles said instantly. But he wrapped his other arm around her, pulled her against his shoulder, and started rubbing her back. She was so thin that he could feel every bump in her spine.