Hugo swore under his breath, and then shouted, “I’m not leaving until next week,” as the door closed behind her.

Chapter Two

Lady Gryffyn’s ball

London

One month later: November 9

“You’re so fortunate that you needn’t bother with another husband,” Maddie Penshallow lamented. “You have the best of all worlds, Phee. Your husband was perfectly nice—and, of course, we’re all sorry that Sir Peter passed away—but he left you with that darling little girl and not a care in the world!”

Ophelia winced at this blithe summary of widowhood, but her cousin didn’t pause for breath as she launched into an account of her marital woes. Apparently, Maddie’s husband, Lord Penshallow, was like the rest of his sex: He didn’t brush his teeth enough, made impolite noises at dinner (farted, Ophelia interpreted), and—

“He has two mistresses?”

“Two,” Maddie said, with dramatic emphasis. “One I could tolerate. In fact, I would happily encourage it. But two is an insult. Two means that everyone in London suspects that I refuse to bed him.”

“Which you do,” Ophelia said.

“That’s private,” Maddie objected.

“No, it isn’t. It hasn’t been since you lost your temper and threw a bowl of cherries at him last month at the Terring Hunt Ball.”

“Glacé cherries,” Maddie said, looking somewhat more cheerful. “When I’m particularly irritated, I bring to mind the way they bounced off his fat head like little tomatoes.”

“Well, after that no one could believe that you maintain cordial relations in the bedchamber. Not when you were screaming about—”

“No need to go into the details,” Maddie said hastily. “It’s not as if you don’t have a temper yourself.”

“I’m trying to change,” Ophelia said.

Her cousin snorted.

“How is your snorting different from his breaking wind?” Ophelia inquired.

“You’re not listening to me, Phee!” Maddie cried. “My point is that you are lucky because you needn’t deal with a man ever again. You don’t have to hear snoring, or a lecture about what asparagus does to his digestive system, or be smirked at by his mistress—who happens to be wearing diamond earrings tonight, by the way!”

“As are you,” Ophelia observed.

“Exactly the same earrings,” Maddie said. “I like your emeralds much better than my diamonds, which my husband apparently bought in bulk.” She cocked her head. “In fact, you’re more attractive than when you debuted, Phee. I expect it’s motherhood. Those curves mean that your chin doesn’t look as pointed as it used to.”

Ophelia broke into laughter and gave her cousin a hug. “What you’re saying is that my witchy chin is now topping a fat figure?”

“Voluptuous is not fat,” Maddie protested, wiggling out of Ophelia’s arms. “How is my goddaughter, by the way?”

“Oh, Viola’s fine. She’s turned two years old, so her favorite word is ‘no.’”