“You and I shall travel in the first sleigh,” Lady Woolhastings stated. “We’ll take your daughter, Boadicea, with us. An odd name.”

“She prefers Betsy,” the duke responded.

“Smacks of a housemaid,” his fiancée said in such a calm voice that at first Ophelia didn’t think she’d heard her correctly.

“The younger boys can be in the third sleigh, with Lady Knowe and Lady Astley,” Lady Woolhastings continued. “You both are accustomed to children and will be of help.” Her brows flexed just the smallest amount. “You really mustn’t leave the house without a full complement of nursemaids and grooms, Duke.”

Ophelia could interpret this without need of parsing the lady’s accent. She and Lady Knowe were substitutes for the nursemaids who were unaccountably missing.

“I suppose you might as well keep the child you’re carrying,” the lady said graciously to the duke.

Hugo’s face darkened, but before he could respond, Lady Knowe bawled, “Little boys with me in the last sleigh!” as loudly as any constable calling the midnight hour. Leonidas and Alexander ran toward the sleigh.

Ophelia had never allowed herself to be separated from Viola before. But all she could see was her daughter’s snub nose and a white ruff of rabbit fur, like a spent dandelion, cozily sheltered in the duke’s greatcoat.

“I’ll take good care of her,” Hugo said, his eyes steady on hers.

He was broad-shouldered and sturdy. His strong embrace when her carriage turned over flitted through her mind. If anything happened, she’d rather Viola was in his arms than hers.

Plus, she certainly didn’t wish to join Lady Woolhastings in the first carriage. She’d had all the condescension she could stomach for one day.

She nodded jerkily, then turned and took a groom’s hand to clamber into the sleigh.

The duke followed her and looked up. “Are you certain that you don’t wish to join me in the first carriage? I promise I will keep your daughter safe.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Lady Knowe said, pushing her brother to the side so she could climb into the sleigh after Ophelia. “You run off and sit with your fiancée, Hugo. We’ll be fine here.”

She sat down beside Ophelia with a grunt. “My stays are entirely too rigid for climbing. Betsy, you’re supposed to travel in the first sleigh with your father. Lady Woolhastings explicitly requested your presence.”

The little girl didn’t bother to reply; she simply hopped up after her two brothers and crowded herself onto the seat opposite Ophelia and Lady Knowe.

“You’re Betsy,” Ophelia said.

She nodded.

“And you are Leonidas?” she asked a very naughty-looking boy.

“He’s the plague of my life after Parth,” Lady Knowe said.