Sophie laughed for pure happiness. In truth, the only tense moment during the birth of the twins had been when Dr. Lambeth observed that the duchess had the hips of a peasant, to which comment Patrick took violent exception.

But she shook her head teasingly. “I don’t know, Patrick. Now that Charlotte has a third daughter, and we had Frances and the twins, you and your brother have produced six girls. Perhaps girls are your lot in life.”

Patrick only laughed and kissed his wife lightly. “Practice makes perfect,” he whispered against her lips.

Ella gave a little grunt, and when her parents looked down at her, she was fast asleep.

“I’ll take her back to the nursery.” Patrick reached out and deftly took his little daughter in his arms.

“I could ring for Betsy,” Sophie said, smiling up at her husband as he tucked Ella’s blanket around her chubby form.

“I like to fetch and carry my daughters. When I was little I told my father I wanted to be a footman. I liked their livery.”

Sophie grinned. “What did he say?”

“I can’t remember. Most likely he was outraged. He had a great sense of his own consequence, which didn’t include footmen for sons.”

Just as Sophie was drifting back to sleep again, the door to the master bedroom opened and Patrick walked back in.

“Oh Lord,” Sophie moaned. Now he had two flannel-wrapped bundles, one on each arm.

“This one’s for you,” her husband said with obscene cheerfulness. He handed over a squirming, red-cheeked baby.

“Katherine, I presume?” Sophie murmured, reaching out her arms.

“Katherine it is,” Patrick agreed. He kicked off his slippers and lay down on the bed next to Sophie, Ella still sleeping in the crook of his arm. When Katherine had settled in for a midnight snack, Sophie looked at Patrick enquiringly, nodding toward Ella.

Patrick smiled a bit guiltily. “Nanny was asleep in the chair when I got to the nursery, and Betsy was asleep on the cot. In fact, Katherine was the only one awake. She was kicking about and just starting to think about howling. So I scooped her up and brought them both back here.”

“Ella should be in her bed,” Sophie said with mock severity.

Patrick didn’t bother to answer. He was looking down at Ella’s little face.

“She’s going to be a great beauty, Sophie. I’ll have to beat off gentlemen with a stick.”

Thoughtfully, Sophie looked at the little girl she was holding. The twins were as alike as peas in a pod; both had inherited a dizzying combination of arching eyebrows (from their papa) and silky, golden reddish curls (from their mama).

Just for a second, Sophie wondered whether their first daughter, little Frances, would have been as beautiful, had she lived.