Neither Louisa nor he said a word in response, but Lady Woolhastings—Edith—didn’t notice a lapse. She engaged in a conversation with Horatius, and as they were leaving, informed Hugo that his heir would be an excellent duke.

“He shows an admirable sense of civic responsibility, paired with just respect for the crown,” she said.

Hugo bowed. And left.

The moment the Wilde family walked into their own townhouse, all seven of his offspring dispatched themselves to the upper regions of the house, and he and Louisa turned as one and headed for the brandy decanter in his library.

“You’ve made a wretched bumble-broth of the courting I sent you to London to do,” Louisa said now.

Hugo looked at his twin, and then back at the glass of brandy he was holding. “I didn’t ask her to marry me.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t ask her to marry you?” Louisa asked.

“I didn’t.” Hugo’s voice was wooden, but beneath it was fury and helplessness.

And beneath that was desire for Ophelia, as fierce and hot as a lava flow that buries everything in its path.

“You didn’t ask Lady Woolhastings to marry you, although she announced that she was your fiancée?” Louisa asked, incredulous.

He finished off his brandy. “Precisely.”

His sister dropped into a chair. “She said it so calmly.”

“I believe it was a simple statement of fact, as she saw it. To be fair, I have escorted her to several events. She must have decided to accept my hand; therefore, my actual proposal was irrelevant.”

Louisa shook her head, dumbfounded. “What is she, one-eighth royal? Purple blood must be enough to poison the brain. You’ll have to have a conversation with her, albeit a painful one, and set the record straight.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“She was right to presume that I would propose. And she shared the information with others; she announced at the Frost Fair that we were betrothed.”

“Hugo, you can’t marry a woman simply because she decided to take you.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Hugo said, getting up and pouring himself more brandy. “I did decide to marry her, although I hadn’t got around to a proposal. Ophelia won’t have me, Louisa. She said no.”

“Of course she said no the first time, you idiot!” his sister snapped.

“After I thought about it, I realized she was right,” Hugo said. “I can’t offer Ophelia what she already has. She doesn’t need money or status. I bring along a sullied name, eight children, and the endless trouble that comes with the dukedom. She has no wish to be a duchess.”

“You are the only thing that matters,” his sister said. She pulled off her hat and threw it on a chair. “You, Hugo.”

“Ophelia refused my proposal.”