And I could do much better, Ophelia thought to herself. I could have done the duke. Which was such an improper thought that she found herself turning pink.

Lady Woolhastings glanced over and her brows drew together. “Perhaps you should return to your carriage,” she said, in a warmer tone than she had used before. “This cold is inadvisable for the complexion and I see yours is responding to this chill wind. I applied four layers of protective cream this morning.”

“Ah,” Ophelia said. They were nearing three large sleighs, lavishly picked out with blue paint and gold leaf. A mass of children of all ages were darting between the sleighs and horses, shouting with glee and risking being kicked by an irritable mount.

Lady Woolhastings stopped and lifted her hand. “Your Grace.”

“Yes, Lady Woolhastings?” Hugo strode to stand at Ophelia’s right shoulder. Viola was sucking her thumb, her head nestled on his shoulder. He had tucked her inside his greatcoat, so she must be toasty warm.

Viola blinked at Ophelia and said, “Snow,” before she closed her eyes.

“I ought to bring my daughter home,” Ophelia said, shoving away a keen pulse of regret. She knew that Hugo had the instincts of a good father; he was shopping for a third duchess for just that reason.

The fact that Viola looked so blissfully comfortable should not make her, Ophelia, feel prickly and sad. That was absurd.

“Your groom will have already instructed the carriage to meet you further up the Thames,” the duke said, his voice kind, but absolute. “Moreover, you and Viola cannot traverse the fair by yourselves.”

Ophelia turned to look for Lord Melton and realized that he was nowhere to be seen.

“Lord Melton remembered that he had another engagement and asked me to convey his regrets,” the duke said.

Ophelia felt herself turning red again. Likely, Lord Melton heard what Lady Woolhastings had said about marrying her and fled in horror. It was hard to tell whether that was more embarrassing than the duke’s quick defection.

Hugo apparently read her mind. “No,” he stated.

Lady Woolhastings was frowning at the crowd of noisy children and not paying attention.

“Lord Melton had temporarily forgotten that he was betrothed,” Hugo said. His eyes didn’t stray from hers but his voice dropped a register. “You can do that to a man.”

She flinched. Was he telling her that he had already had an understanding with Lady Woolhastings when they met?

“Hugo!”

An imposing lady was bustling toward them, followed by a stream of children. “There you are! We’ve been waiting for you.”

She was as tall as the duke, his age, with his angular features and marked eyebrows, albeit softened by a fashionable hat whose ribbons streamed in the wind.

She had to be the duke’s twin, Lady Knowe.

“Please give me Viola,” Ophelia said urgently, turning to Hugo.

He shook his head. “Your arms are aching, are they not?”