Yet the die was cast. She’d had her chance at this particular happiness, and she’d said no. Hugo had moved on, asked for another woman’s hand in marriage, and that was that.

The sleighs were slowing down now, drawing to the side of the riverbank where a long stretch of lawn, withered and brown but likely beautiful in the summer, stretched all the way to a substantial townhouse.

The back of Lady Woolhastings’s London estate, presumably.

“Rich as Croesus,” Lady Knowe muttered beside her. “Can’t imagine why she wants him.”

Ophelia could think of so many reasons to want Hugo. The strong lines of his jaw and broad shoulders were only the first that came to mind. The way he kissed her; the way he looked at her as if he truly saw her; the way he talked about his children. The way he made her feel safe, even to the point of giving up her child to his arms.

His twin chuckled and then broke into open laughter as color crept up into Ophelia’s cheeks.

“It’s this red hair,” Ophelia said, deciding to laugh as well, because she knew perfectly well she’d turned a deep rose color. “I can’t hide anything.”

“I’ll take it from you that my brother is still reasonably attractive,” Lady Knowe said, hooting.

Just in the nick of time—for Ophelia had decided that she had no interest in visiting Lady Woolhastings’s house—she heard an enraged scream.

“Your baby’s as loud as Joan,” Betsy said, her head popping out of the fur blanket. “Guess she’s mad.”

“I will have to say goodbye,” Ophelia said. As the sleigh ride drew to a halt, the two boys’ heads appeared too. “Betsy, Leonidas, and Alexander, it has been a true pleasure meeting you.”

With a smile and nod for Lady Knowe, she hopped down from the sleigh and took her screaming child away from the duke.

Lady Woolhastings’s lips were thin and pressed together. “Children should not appear in public until they can compose themselves.” She gave Viola a disparaging glance. “My ears are ringing.”

Ophelia decided not to respond. Viola thankfully quieted down once she was in her mother’s arms, so Ophelia bobbed a curtsy in Lady Woolhastings’s direction and started up the lawn toward her waiting carriage, her back very straight.

She hadn’t gone more than a few steps before Lady Woolhastings said, “A casual household, from what I hear, which one might guess from her appearance.” Perhaps the lady didn’t realize that her aristocratic tones had such carrying power.

It was true: Ophelia had no nanny. And the wind had blown her hair into a tangled cloud around her shoulders.

“The color,” Lady Woolhastings added, with a tone of disdain, if not disgust.

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow!” Lady Knowe called.

Ophelia stopped halfway up the slope, and turned. “Excuse me?”