“I hope she won’t be frightened off by this horde,” Louisa said. “I would be, looking at these grimy children. Prism, could I ask you to stow the varmints under the eaves, and arrange for baths all around, while I have a restorative with His Grace?”

The family butler, who had accompanied her from the country, bowed and turned to their London butler. Between them and a small crowd of nursemaids, they began ushering the children upstairs. Hugo handed over Joan, rather proud of the fact that she hadn’t burst out crying.

“You don’t wish to retire to your chamber?” he asked his sister, rather surprised.

“We’ve no time to waste,” Louisa said. “I want to hear everything. I received your letter about Lady Woolhastings.”

With that, she pulled him off to his study. Where he told her everything, because she was his twin. Including the fact that Ophelia had decided not to be his duchess.

“I knew something was wrong,” Louisa pronounced. “I am never mistaken in such things. I could feel it in my gut, but I had hoped it was just the bother of finding another wife.”

“As I told you, I found one,” Hugo said, feeling very tired. “Lady Woolhastings will make an excellent duchess.”

“I’ve known Edith for years, Hugo.”

Her tone was dangerously even. She didn’t like the woman he’d chosen. Hugo’s heart sank. “I can’t say that I remember her,” he said.

“You wouldn’t,” Louisa said. “You were too busy chasing Marie around the room to notice anyone else, and Edith was already a mother when you first appeared in London.”

“She seems very agreeable.”

“She is,” his sister said. “I’ve shared many a recipe for skin cream with her. She’s not the sort to pretend to know nothing about a new diet regime when in fact she’s eaten only cucumbers for weeks; if it works, Edith tells everyone.”

“Ah,” Hugo said, thinking that didn’t sound very interesting. But “interesting” wasn’t what he was looking for. Presumably his daughters would enjoy recipes for cosmetic restoratives. And cucumbers.

“Louisa, you told me to find a woman who would be a good mother and was uninterested in bedding me,” he reminded her.

“So I did. Tell me a bit more about Sir Peter Astley’s widow.”

“There’s no point in further discussion of Phee,” Hugo said. “She doesn’t want me and made that quite clear.”

“I shall make that determination myself,” Louisa retorted.

Hugo tossed back a glass of sherry. His twin was a pain in the arse, and she would only complicate things. “Horatius will approve of Lady Woolhastings.”

“Of course he will. Edith is a pleasant woman who won’t be so inconsiderate as to have more children and burden the estate.”

Hugo frowned at her.