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Now she took something from a footman and held it high. “A vulture crown!” she shouted, waving it around. “Likely worn by a female pharaoh.”

“Only if that pharaoh was born a couple of years ago,” Silvester said, stepping forward to stand beside Yasmin. “My mother is taking the opportunity to get rid of some ill-advised jewelry acquired during her craze for Egyptian art.”

Giles’s mouth was a tight line, while Yasmin was hiding her infatuation as best as she could. Silvester felt a stab of tenderness for her. In a different world, he would hope that Yasmin got her heart’s desire: in short, Giles.

As it was, he was certain that he could become her heart’s desire. Giles was too grumpy for such a lighthearted woman.

“Lady Yasmin, may I introduce Lady Stella?” he asked, setting off a flurry of curtsies and bows. He was pleased to see Giles ease into a smile. Stella would make him a good countess.

His mother was waving around a wooden box and promising that it held something every gentleman in the world would be happy to own. Silvester took that with a grain of salt. At Christmas, she’d given him one of the new silk top hats, swearing that men would soon wear them every night. It made him look as if his head had sprouted a chimney. That was a style that would never catch on.

“I thought perhaps we should join forces. Four heads are better than two, after all,” he suggested.

Giles threw him an irritated look. “Your mother just announced that all pairs must tackle the list on their own. Gifts are for the winning couple only.”

Yasmin’s elbow dug into Silvester’s side. “Of course, we won’t break the rule,” she said, smiling at Stella.

Who looked as peevish as Giles.

His mother was in the middle of reeling off the rules. “The couple who finds the most objects—or obtains one of the first three items—wins,” she called. “Number two is the Bishop of Norfolk, by the way. I haven’t seen my brother in ages, so if anyone manages to snag him, he must come for tea before he trots back home. Just so you know, he is in London.”

“How could we locate a bishop?” Yasmin asked.

Silvester glanced at Stella. “I might have an idea.”

“Wouldn’t that be cheating, since he is your family member?” she asked dryly.

“It isn’t based on intimate knowledge,” Silvester explained. “I read in the morning paper—”

“Don’t forget to take a chaperone,” his mother shouted, sending her guests surging toward the drawing room door. “Carriages are waiting!”

“Excellent,” Giles clipped, pulling Yasmin away without ceremony.

“That was quite rude,” Stella remarked as Giles and Yasmin disappeared into the throng around the door. “Also, I gather, very disappointing for you.”

Silvester frowned at her. “You’re remarkably blunt.”

She shrugged. “In the scavenger hunt known as the marriage market, I have no interest in winning your attention from Lady Yasmin, so why not be honest about it?”

Silvester was taken aback. No marriageable young lady had ever expressed disinterest in his attentions. His brows drew together at the realization that only a pompous ass would believe every eligible lady wanted to marry him. Hopefully he hadn’t become as haughty as Lady Stella clearly thought he was.

“We might as well try to win,” he said, changing the subject.

She eyed him. “Do you always want to win, no matter the game?”

“Yes.”

“Even when the stakes are small?”

“What do you mean?”

“A wooden box? When you could have had several hours with Lady Yasmin?”

Silvester eyed her in return.

“The current stakes are very small,” she said, adding pointedly, “When the Earl of Lilford ‘wins,’ he instigates a law that changes the nation.”

“True enough,” Silvester said. “Giles and I are boyhood friends, but I am frequently surprised by our differences.”