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“Lilford is not the right man for you.”

“I agree,” Yasmin said instantly. “I dislike him.”

“Hmmm,” Silvester said. “I wish that was so. Perhaps in time it will be true. I’ve watched you dancing with him. You flare into life. Instead of smiling all the time, you scowl and fuss and generally resemble a woman rather than an extremely pretty china figurine.”

“I scowl at you regularly,” Yasmin said, finishing her champagne, because the conversation was making her uneasy.

“A point in my favor, I admit.”

“The earl irritates me,” she confessed. “I am tempted to drive him to rage, which is childish in the extreme. I have decided to stop the practice.”

“Thereby giving me hope,” Silvester said lightly. He glanced down at the dance card he still held. “I do believe that you’re supposed to be waltzing with Algie Dunlap at this very moment. Let’s stay here, shall we? He’s a tiresome young fool and likely won’t glimpse you in this corner.”

“Another bad poet,” Yasmin sighed.

“Yes, but at least Dunlap’s poetry is original. No one would crib a line that described his love as being ‘faultless as a blown rose in June.’”

Yasmin started giggling. “The ‘blown’ was unfortunate, wasn’t it? He explained that he needed another syllable.”

“I’m not a poet.” His eyes were lit with wicked mischief. “Faultless as a flea?”

“I don’t have fleas!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Silvester said, a silky tone entering his voice. “A duchess shouldn’t be infested.”

Yasmin rolled her eyes.

“It would make the marital bed so uncomfortable, don’t you think?”

Yasmin snapped her fan shut and stood. “I should find my dance partner.”

Silvester stood as well. “I went too far. Forgive me?”

“No need,” she said, glancing around for Algernon.

He took her hand. “I made a coarse jest, and I apologize.”

Yasmin could feel herself turning pink again. “I am not . . .” She tried again. “I am somewhat prudish.” Then she remembered saying “bollocks” to him. She was a hypocrite who loved bawdy words, but not when deployed in flirtation.

“You are a constant surprise and a delight. Please, won’t you sit down, Yasmin? I promise to be good.”

She somewhat reluctantly allowed him to draw her down onto the sofa again. “I really mean it, Your Grace. No more flummery, and no improper jokes. I don’t like them. That is, I do like them, but not when they are like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, a smile playing around his lips.

To her discomfort, it was an affectionate smile.

“Lewd. I may never marry,” she added, succumbing to a sudden impulse to tell him the truth.

“You might change your mind about that. Even if your heart is bruised.”

He was entirely too perceptive.

Yasmin managed a careless smile, though it was not easy. A mere hint of weakness would give the gossips reasons to rejoice, and the last thing she wanted to do was admit that her heart did feel bruised, as if she were a girl in the French court once again.

Giles wouldn’t care that he had wounded her feelings.

“My heart is whole,” she said airily, her facade firmly in place.