“You won’t have to see much of her, if you outlive me. Horatius informed me last year that I was neglecting the future of England. He will surely attend every session in Parliament, so he’ll have to live in London a good part of the year.”

“I adore Horatius, but he’s a terrible prig,” Louisa said.

Hugo didn’t answer, because . . . it was true. Sad but true. His eldest son was best taken in small doses.

“At any rate, you can’t lean on the wife that your heir doesn’t yet have. Horatius is only eighteen. Perhaps he’ll rebel and turn into a complete rogue.”

They both considered it, and shook their heads at precisely the same moment, an unintended benefit of being twins.

“Enough,” Louisa stated. “You have to take a wife, and that’s all there is to it. The girls, particularly Joan, need a noblewoman of unassailable reputation to usher them into society.”

Hugo’s brows drew together, but before he could speak, his sister planted her fingers on his desk, leaning over and meeting his eyes. “Joan looks like Yvette; I’ll give her that. She’s going to be beautiful. But she does not look like a Wilde.”

“She is a Wilde,” Hugo growled, surging to his feet.

Louisa drew her shoulders back but held his gaze steadily. “Don’t play the fool, Hugo. Whether or not it’s true, her golden hair will be seen as a gift from Yaraslov. You need to marry a powerful woman now, so that rumors are throttled early, if only because those gossips are terrified of the Duchess of Lindow’s wrath.”

“Wonderful,” Hugo said, deadpan. “You’re telling me to marry a dragon with a disgust for bed sport. She’ll be a delight to live with.”

“You don’t have to bed her,” his sister pointed out. “Lord knows, you have more than enough heirs. Think of it as taking on a superior governess.”

“I don’t want another governess, no matter how superior.”

Louisa snorted. “I’ll let Prism know that you’ll be leaving for London tomorrow. Take the silk directly to Grippledon; I think he’s the best tailor these days.” She headed for the door, scooping up her hat on the way, but stopped and swung about. “Do not, under any circumstances, mention the children during your courtship, Hugo.”

“You just said that I need to find a woman precisely because of my offspring,” he said. “I should talk of nothing but the children—just as I would when choosing a governess, may I point out.”

“No,” his sister said. She rarely laid down decrees, preferring to run his household with a smile, albeit a fierce smile. But this was a command. “Let the woman see you as a man, not a father. No one wants to marry a father.”