Ophelia shook her head. “He lives in Wales, quite a long way away.”

Alex wrinkled his nose. “That’s a pity.”

“My turn,” Betsy said. She fixed Ophelia with a sharp eye and said, “Do you have children other than that baby?”

“No,” Ophelia said.

“The nursery is full of children,” Betsy stated. “I suppose we can fit that one in, but no more.”

“I understand,” Ophelia said gravely.

“Do you want more children?”

“Yes,” she said, without hesitation. She hadn’t known that truth until today. In fact, she had thought that perhaps there wasn’t room in her heart to love a child other than Viola.

That had been foolishness, she saw now. Alexander, Betsy, and Leonidas, for example. Not that she loved them . . . but they were very lovable. They had their father’s tousled hair, strong eyebrows, and angled cheekbones.

But more than that, they were intelligent, lively, and clearly loved each other, for all the kicking. With a pulse of pure greed, she realized that Viola would love a family like that.

“There aren’t any empty beds in the nursery,” Betsy told her, folding her arms over her chest. Clearly, Ophelia had proven a disappointment.

“My turn,” Leonidas said. “Mine’s important. How do you feel about rats?”

“Rats?” Ophelia repeated. She glanced at Lady Knowe to see whether help was forthcoming.

“Pet rats,” Lady Knowe said, raising an eyebrow inquiringly.

All three children stared at Ophelia, eyes expectant. She had the odd feeling that this was the most important question.

“I don’t think I like rats,” she admitted. “I’ve never met a pet rat, but in general the species is not attractive. I dislike their tails.”

Leonidas gave her a reproachful glance. “That’s a great pity. A rat can be a boy’s best friend. Now we’re going to talk about you.” And with that, he pulled the huge fur cloak up and over their three heads.

“At least they’ll be warm under there,” Lady Knowe said. “My nose is an icicle.”

Ophelia’s ears were freezing because she couldn’t keep her hood on her head, but there was something incredibly exhilarating about flying along at this speed.

“I feel as if we’re flying,” Lady Knowe said.

“Yes, exactly!” Ophelia said, smiling at her.

With a pang she realized that she and Lady Knowe could have been friends, true friends, under different circumstances . . . those being circumstances in which the duke hadn’t asked Lady Woolhastings to marry him.

Because if she were honest with herself, she probably would have reconsidered his proposal had he asked. Or had he introduced her to the children. The truth of that thumped into her stomach.

If he had asked her to stepmother—no, mother—the three children opposite her? With their stubborn, brave faces and the questions they’d chosen . . . even with the possibility of a pet rat looming?

Who could say no to them?