" Miles was frantically trying to rearrange his cravat and smooth down his hair. ‘Damn. No time to stop off at home and get my valet to tidy me up. Oh well. Give Hen a kiss for me.’
Richard shot him a sharp look.
‘On the cheek, man, on the cheek. God knows I’d never try anything improper with your sister. Not that she isn’t a beautiful girl and all that, it’s just, well, she’s your
sister.’
Richard clapped his friend on the shoulder in approval. ‘Well said! That’s exactly the way I want you to think of her.’
Miles muttered something about being grateful that his sisters were a good deal older. ‘You turn into a complete bore when you’re chaperoning Hen, you know,’ he grumbled.
Richard raised one eyebrow at Miles, a skill that had taken several months of practice in front of his mirror when he was twelve, but had been well worth the investment. ‘At least
I didn’t let my sister dress me up in her petticoat when I was five.’
Miles’s jaw dropped. ‘Who told you about that?’ he demanded indignantly.
Richard grinned. ‘I have my sources,’ he said airily.
Miles, not a top agent of the War Office for nothing, considered this for a moment and his eyes narrowed. ‘You can tell your source that she’s going to have to find someone else to fetch her lemonade at the Alsworthys’ ball tomorrow night unless she apologises. You can also tell her that I’ll accept either a verbal or a written apology as long as it’s suitably abject. And that means very, very abject,’ he added darkly. Miles snatched his hat and gloves up from a side table. ‘Oh, stop grinning already! It wasn’t that amusing.’
Richard rubbed his chin as though in deep thought. ‘Tell me, Miles, was it a lacy petticoat?’
With a wordless grunt of annoyance, Miles turned on his heel and stomped out of the room. "

― Lauren Willig , The Secret History of the Pink Carnation (Pink Carnation, #1)