No gossip about Lady Woolhastings had ever circulated. Ophelia, on the other hand, had faced rancorous disapproval from some who had considered her uppish and called her a night mushroom because her father had been a mere esquire. They pronounced the marriage a misalliance, eyed her waist for signs of pregnancy, and felt free to speculate about how she might have tricked Peter into proposing.

In Ophelia’s opinion, Lady Woolhastings likely had no idea how vicious “polite” society could be.

Thankfully, the end of intermission was signaled by a loud trumpet, and Lady Arden rose to return to her seat.

“I saw you talking to Lady Arden,” Maddie whispered, once the play began again. “Everyone else was happy for me, but I find her a bit frightening. Did you convince her of my child?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Ophelia said.

But she was thinking.

And watching the box across the way from under her lashes.

Chapter Fourteen

Lady Fernby’s supper after the opera was a small, informal affair.

“I’m so sorry to have disrupted your numbers,” Ophelia said, curtsying to their hostess.

Lady Fernby manifestly didn’t mind; she was a jolly woman who rushed to meet them at the door of her drawing room, genuinely thrilled by the news of Maddie’s condition.

“This shall be my last public outing,” Maddie announced. “But I would be most happy if you paid me a morning call, Lady Fernby. I expect these last months will be endlessly tedious, although I will be lucky enough to have my dear cousin’s company.”

“Of course, you must go into confinement,” Lady Fernby agreed, nodding. “You’re already showing, my dear. One does not wish to leave society with an unpleasant memory of one’s enlarged waist.”

Personally, Ophelia thought this was absurd. If she ever carried a child again—which she would not, obviously—she would do exactly as she wished, no matter her size.

“I agree,” Maddie exclaimed, smiling as proudly as if she were truly carrying a child.

“Toward the end of my first confinement, I resembled a whale,” Lady Fernby said. “Have you seen images of that sea beast?”

Maddie shuddered.

Who would have thought that her cousin would be such a good actress? Ophelia followed her hostess across the drawing room, silently shoring up her resolve to treat Hugo as she might any other gentleman whom she’d met once or twice.

He rose as they walked toward him, and Ophelia was unable to look away. Wearing pink silk had had a civilizing effect. But now? In sober navy?

Without a glittering, silky veneer, Hugo was all man. He looked massive and powerful, like a man whose ancestors commanded large armies and built a country. A man who could direct a horse with his knees, the better to use his hands to wield a lance or a sword.

Did he say that he was judge for the shire? He looked like a judge.