But he was smiling at Viola as if she was quite marvelous. Ophelia’s heart gave a thump. It was one thing to be courted—albeit briefly—by a deliciously handsome duke. It was different when that duke smiled at her best beloved, as if he recognized how wonderful she was.

Viola liked his smile too, because she held out her mittened hands and leaned toward him. When Ophelia nodded, Lord Melton gave her up, and the duke tucked Viola into his left arm as if he was used to carrying children.

“I expect that Viola would love a sleigh ride,” he said. “Your groom could bring your purchases back to your carriage and then meet us at Lady Woolhastings’s house.”

“You have bought a great many things,” Lady Woolhastings said, clearly pained. “I distinctly smell mince pies; Lady Astley, you must discard those, or send them to be consumed in the servants’ hall. One never knows what a mince pie bought in a fair might contain.”

Ophelia paused, not certain what to do, but Viola was happily babbling to the duke, interspersing her new words amid a language of her own. She probably would like a sleigh ride.

“Mince is extremely fattening,” Lady Woolhastings added.

Hugo met Ophelia’s eyes. “Do join us.”

It was a good thing that she wasn’t marrying him, because she had the feeling that it would be hard to refuse anything he asked, if he had that expression in his eyes. She actually glanced at Lady Woolhastings to see if she caught it but the lady looked quite indifferent.

In fact, that seemed to be her expression most of the time.

Once Ophelia’s groom had set off for her carriage, they began walking again, Lady Woolhastings strolling beside Ophelia, and the two men just behind.

“A respectable match,” Lady Woolhastings drawled, in her high, well-bred voice.

“I’m sorry?” Ophelia said. She was listening as hard as she could to Viola and the duke, who were having a lively exchange that consisted of a stream of words from Viola, all the new ones she’d learned today jumbled in any order. His Grace was laughing, and supplying a word here or there, which Viola would instantly repeat.

“Lord Melton,” Lady Woolhastings prompted. “Very appropriate. A nice estate and good blood. Not of the highest degree, but then you didn’t come from those ranks, did you?”

Viola stopped babbling just at the wrong moment, and Ophelia felt a prickling embarrassment in her shoulders. She didn’t dare glance about, not sure whom she was more embarrassed about: Hugo or poor Lord Melton, who had accidentally encountered her and found himself virtually married off a half hour later.

Of course, the fact that he had been carrying Viola did make it seem as if they were quite familiar.

She cleared her throat. “Lord Melton is a mere acquaintance, Lady Woolhastings.”

“You could do much worse,” the lady remarked.