“I can’t imagine how, given that she decided to be duchess without a proposal,” he said.

“Don’t underestimate me,” she said, grinning at him.

“I never do,” he promised. Then he wound an arm around her shoulder. “If Ophelia marries me, you’ll stay, won’t you?”

“If she wants me.”

“I won’t take her.”

Louisa hooted. “You don’t have her, you arrogant fool! Now I need a restorative sleep because tomorrow morning I promised we would take the children to the Tower.”

“We?” Hugo asked.

His sister just rolled her eyes.

Chapter Thirteen

As it happened, the Penshallow box at the Theatre Royal was directly across from the Lindow box. From Ophelia’s point of view, it couldn’t have been more unfortunate.

She and Maddie arrived in plenty of time. Maddie had cheered up and decided to enjoy her role as a woman in a delicate condition; she fanned herself constantly and entertained her friends with whispered commentary about the trials and tribulations of carrying an heir.

As far as Ophelia could see, there was near-universal acceptance of Maddie’s condition, but she knew it wasn’t enough to merely display Maddie with a cotton roll at her waist.

At the play’s intermission, she surveyed the ladies who crowded the Penshallow box, and selected the worst gossip of them all, Lady Arden, and adroitly drew her to the front of the box, exclaiming that she hadn’t seen the lady for ages.

Once they were cozily seated, Ophelia confided that she had insisted her darling Maddie keep her condition a secret.

“I understand that for the first months,” Lady Arden said, looking faintly skeptical, “but so near to confinement?”

Ophelia flipped open her fan and spoke behind it. “Surely you know that my dearest cousin’s marital relations are stormy.”

“To say the least!” Lady Arden’s eyes brightened.

“Most of London believes that it is due to a lack of passion between herself and her husband,” Ophelia whispered, “but the reverse is true. There is too much emotion between them.”

“Ah,” Lady Arden breathed.

“Her delicate condition makes her so sensitive,” Ophelia confided. “I feared for the life of the babe.”

“Lord Arden likes to tell stories of a time when I behaved in a most unladylike fashion while carrying our second child,” Lady Arden said, apparently won over. “Arden insisted on roast partridge for luncheon over my express command, and I could not abide that odor. I vomited on his shoes. Deliberately, he says.”

“I have persuaded my dearest cousin that she would do best to retire from society after this evening,” Ophelia said. “I certainly don’t want her to lose control of her temper as she did at the Hunt Ball, only due to the emotional storms of the first months of one’s delicate condition. I trust you will pay us a call? She will be resting comfortably at my house.”