“You see, he wants me, but he doesn’t like me. So he fights the desire, but sometimes it gets the better of him. Earlier this week he proposed to me. Obviously, he told her.”

Cleo scowled. “Just how much ‘better’ did it get?”

“Enough.” Yasmin squinted at her friend. “I’ve never heard you growl like that.”

“I learned it from my husband. It’s wise to marry a man whom one’s bedded,” Cleo said with all the practicality of a woman who ran a business concern that spread from the United Kingdom to Germany. “Expediently, if possible.”

“We didn’t—He didn’t—” Yasmin waved the handkerchief. “There was a condom.”

“Excellent!” Cleo cried. “A woman after my own heart.”

A flood of sadness welled up inside Yasmin’s chest. “He doesn’t like me.”

“Jake decided I was an upstart English witch,” Cleo said, wrapping an arm around Yasmin’s shoulder. “He told Merry that I had a witchy chin.”

Yasmin took a shuddering breath. “If Giles found me undesirable, this would be easier. I want him so much, but . . .”

“Take him,” Cleo advised. “You can work everything else out later.”

“He’s very private. I blurted out that thing that happened with Lydia.”

“I collect that his sister had an amorous encounter with Turing. What a squabby little libertine that man is.”

“I promised not to tell.”

“You didn’t tell. Lydia did,” Cleo said firmly. “Everyone knows Turing is a loose fish. I shall not be at home to Mrs. Turing or Lady Dunlap in the future. While I pity Mrs. Turing, she shows a lack of refinement and a contemptible disregard for good manners.”

Yasmin had twisted her handkerchief so tightly that its delicate lace border would never be the same. “She merely doesn’t want her son to marry Lydia. Or me, obviously.”

“She should be so lucky,” Cleo snorted. “You would be the making of that man.”

“No, I wouldn’t. Because I don’t like Turing and I don’t want him either.”

Cleo frowned. “I should hope not. I suggest you tell Lilford the truth, just in case Lydia embroiders her story, accusing you of God knows what. She’s clearly a loose cannon. I could do it, if you wish.”

“No, please don’t.” Yasmin shuddered at the thought of her friend clashing with Giles. Cleo didn’t suffer fools, not that Giles was a fool, but—

“I’d like to tell him a thing or two,” Cleo said moodily. “I don’t care for the way he looks at you with distaste, given that any fool could tell he’s in love with you.”

“Not love, desire,” Yasmin corrected.

Cleo rolled her eyes. “Once a man becomes so obsessed that he can’t look aside, the words don’t matter. Do you think that Jake started out thinking that he loved me? He spent a good amount of time telling himself that all we shared was lust. As,” she added fairly, “did I.”

“I do have to tell Giles what just happened,” Yasmin said.

“You can offer a counterbalance to the lovely Lydia’s account.” Cleo’s arm tightened. “His sister alone is a good reason not to marry the man, Yasmin. Can you imagine Christmas dinners with her for years and years to come?”