Of course, Lydia had flared up. “What about you? You always look as if you have a toothache. Like a bad novel, where the author describes someone as having a brow that’s dark with displeasure. That’s you.”

“I will endeavor to look more cheerful,” Giles had said. “I would appreciate it if you could be more respectful to your future mother-in-law.”

“I am polite! Last night I didn’t say a word when she went on and on about the English Channel. She needs to pluck her eyebrows. They are far too heavy. But I didn’t say that, did I?”

Giles ground his teeth. “Your future husband will not take it well if you offered grooming suggestions to his mother.”

“I heard of a tincture called Liquid Bloom of Roses,” Lydia snapped. “Perhaps I shall give it to her for Christmas. That way I could make a point without being insulting.” She had marched off.

Luckily, Pettigrew seemed to like Lydia, though Giles suspected that the man was far more interested in the bloodhounds born earlier that week than his fiancée.

They were late to the Addisons’ house. As the butler took their outer garments, Jake Addison wandered into the entry, bowed, and then slapped Giles on the back in an American way that Giles ought to despise but somehow didn’t.

“Good to see you,” Jake said.

Lydia took Lord Pettigrew’s arm and they disappeared into the drawing room.

Giles bowed. “It is always a pleasure.”

“My wife tells me that you’re winning the contest between yourself and the Duke of Huntington. Likely you know, but Viscount Templeton is topping the bets at White’s.”

I’ve won, Giles thought.

He kept his mouth shut. He’d always believed that jealousy was experienced by mediocre minds. Unfortunately, from his first meeting with Yasmin, he’d learned of his own mediocrity: jealousy was his daily companion.

“Yasmin means a good deal to myself and my wife,” Jake said.

Giles suddenly realized that the American didn’t have a carefree look in his eye. In fact, he seemed rather dangerous. “Are you threatening me?” he asked, curious. They both boxed in Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Saloon, but they’d never engaged in a bout.

“I was simply informing you how very, very fond Cleo is of Lady Yasmin. We wouldn’t want to see Yasmin’s heart broken. Or her spirit crushed.”

“I would never do such a thing,” Giles stated.

“She does not have an ascetic temperament,” Jake said. “Like yours.”

“I cherish her as she is,” Giles growled.

“Excellent!” Jake said, slapping him on the back again.

Giles followed his host into the drawing room, thinking that he didn’t care for American manners. He wouldn’t dream of commenting on the Addisons’ relationship.

When dinner was called, he was happy to discover that Mrs. Addison—Cleo—was apparently ignoring the “secret” part of his courtship, because he found himself seated beside Yasmin. Under the cover of the table linen, a small hand slipped into his.

“Good evening, Lord Lilford,” Yasmin said, smiling at him.