My Last Duchess, стр. 33
It was true: Ophelia had no nanny. And the wind had blown her hair into a tangled cloud around her shoulders.
“The color,” Lady Woolhastings added, with a tone of disdain, if not disgust.
“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow!” Lady Knowe called.
Ophelia stopped halfway up the slope, and turned. “Excuse me?”
“The opera?” Lady Knowe was walking up the slope, a devilish smile on her face. “Lady Fernby’s house for dinner.”
Maddie. She’d forgotten about Maddie, and the need to make all of polite society believe that Maddie was carrying a child.
Ophelia managed to paste a smile on her face. “Of course! Until tomorrow, then.” She turned and walked the remainder of theslope even faster.
She and Viola belonged together.
The three children had each other, and, of course, there were all those boys from the duke’s first marriage as well. The bondbetween the second duchess’s children would weather a disengaged third duchess.
Lady Woolhastings was more than capable of launching Betsy and Joan on the market. She’d be a perfect duchess: regal, andsupremely confident of her own superiority.
Whereas Ophelia climbed into her carriage, cheeks blazing, feeling inadequate in every way. Compared to Lady Woolhastings,she was short and fat. Her child was ill-behaved, and she was a bad mother for taking her into the winter weather. Her hairwas scandalous and so was her nanny-free household.
Even more egregious, she was a lustful woman. She wanted the duke—Hugo—in a way that was quite improper for a lady. Her kneestrembled, walking away from him. No mother was supposed to feel this way; she was certain of that.
“Mama,” Viola said, popping her thumb out of her mouth. “Cake.”
“I have rusks in the carriage and they’ll have to hold you until we are home,” Ophelia assured her.
Thankfully, Bisquet was waiting in the street. And even better, bundled on the carriage seat were all the lovely things they’dbought at the fair.
Ophelia promptly opened the bag containing a baker’s dozen of small mince pies, still holding warmth from the oven and smellingdeliciously of raisins and spice.
“I want!” Viola said, learning forward eagerly.
They each ate a mince pie.
When Ophelia thought about the disdainful way that Lady Woolhastings’s eyes had rested on her hips, and the way her lip curledwhen she talked of food bought in an open market . . .
She ate another one.
Chapter Twelve
The Duke of Lindow’s townhouse
Mayfair
Hugo arrived home with his sister and children after a lengthy tea at Lady Woolhastings’s house—the very best tea from China,but no cake, as children shouldn’t eat sweets and Betsy was apparently already plump for her age. When Lady Woolhastings toldBetsy not to eat another buttered toast because she must start to think about her figure, Betsy’s mouth fell open in surprise.
Unfortunately, the sight of her half-chewed toast disturbed their hostess. She shuddered and said, “Your governess is obviouslyineffective, Lindow. Children should remain in the nursery until they can be counted upon to behave in a refined manner.”
Neither Louisa nor he said a word in response, but Lady Woolhastings—Edith—didn’t notice a lapse. She engaged in a conversationwith Horatius, and as they were leaving, informed Hugo that his heir would be an excellent duke.
“He shows an admirable sense of civic responsibility, paired with just respect for the crown,” she said.
Hugo bowed. And left.
The moment the Wilde family walked into their own townhouse, all seven of his offspring dispatched themselves to the upperregions of the house, and he and Louisa turned as one and headed for the brandy decanter in his library.
“You’ve made a wretched bumble-broth of the courting I sent you to London to do,” Louisa said now.
Hugo looked at his twin, and then back at the glass of brandy he was holding. “I didn’t ask her to marry me.”
“What do you mean, you didn’t ask her to marry you?” Louisa asked.
“I didn’t.” Hugo’s voice was wooden, but beneath it was fury and helplessness.
And beneath that was desire for Ophelia, as fierce and hot as a lava flow that buries everything in its path.
“You didn’t ask Lady Woolhastings to marry you, although she announced that she was your fiancée?” Louisa asked, incredulous.
He finished off his brandy. “Precisely.”
His sister dropped into a chair. “She said it so calmly.”
“I believe it was a simple statement of fact, as she saw it. To be fair, I have escorted her to several events. She must havedecided to accept my hand; therefore, my actual proposal was irrelevant.”
Louisa shook her head, dumbfounded. “What is she, one-eighth royal? Purple blood must be enough to poison the brain. You’llhave to have a conversation with her, albeit a painful one, and set the record straight.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“She was right to presume that I would propose. And she shared the information with others; she announced at the Frost Fairthat we were betrothed.”
“Hugo, you can’t marry a woman simply because she decided to take you.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Hugo said, getting up and pouring himself more brandy. “I did decide to marry her, although Ihadn’t got around to a proposal. Ophelia won’t have me, Louisa. She said no.”
“Of course she said no the first time, you idiot!” his sister snapped.
“After I thought about it, I realized she was right,” Hugo said. “I can’t offer Ophelia what she already has. She doesn’tneed money or status. I bring along a sullied name, eight children, and the endless trouble that comes with the dukedom. Shehas no wish to be a duchess.”
“You are the only thing that matters,” his sister said. She pulled off her hat and threw it on a chair. “You, Hugo.”
“Ophelia refused my proposal.”
“Oh, for—” But she bit off the words. “Where do your children come into this? Did you pay attention as Yvette’s three askedtheir questions to Edith over tea?”
“Louisa, couldn’t you have asked what the questions were before allowing them to blurt them out? It didn’t help that the olderboys were roaring with laughter at the idea of false teeth.”
“I had