“Wetting the bed,” Lady Knowe said with a melodramatic groan. “Day and night. During naps until the age of five. We have three more years of it ahead, given that little Joan is scarcely two.” She heaved a lugubrious sigh. “But, of course, they are darling children. Edith met them yesterday and I’m certain she agreed with me.”

“Indeed,” the lady stated.

“I brought all eight of them to London. If you don’t mind plain speaking, they are tired of my oversight. I am always having to punish them for this or that.”

“The boys are at Eton,” Lady Woolhastings pointed out.

“When they are at Eton. They’re constantly being sent down for some prank. I can’t decide whether Alaric or Parth is the naughtier, but on balance, I think Parth wins. We had to pay the barkeeper after that most unfortunate episode with his daughter.”

“One of your sons cavorted with a barmaid?” Lady Woolhastings said, turning to Hugo. Her brow was furrowed.

“‘Cavorted’ is a strong word,” he said.

It was clear to Ophelia that Hugo knew nothing of the barmaid, and Parth didn’t either. In short, Lady Knowe had begun to embroider the truth in an elaborate effort to alarm Lady Woolhastings.

“I never share such trifles with the duke,” Lady Knowe said, leaning over to pat Lady Woolhastings on the knee. “A good half of each day is spent soothing the anguished spirits of those who have fallen victim to His Grace’s children. I cannot wait until he takes a third duchess. I mean to retire to an estate I have in Kent and try to recover my lost youth!”

For the first time, Lady Woolhastings looked appalled. Ophelia saw her assessing Lady Knowe’s wrinkles.

“They have turned my hair white,” Hugo said with a shrug.

Ophelia rolled her eyes. She’d seen Hugo’s hair at close range. Perhaps there was a little silver over the ears, but only enough to make him look distinguished.

Lady Knowe smiled sympathetically at her brother. “As we have both learned, when one has children, particularly so many children, one must give up on life’s vanities.”

“I did not neglect myself while raising my daughters,” Lady Woolhastings stated.

“I am hoping that I carry a boy for more than one reason,” Maddie chimed in. “Nothing is crueler than the contrast between the unlined skin of a young girl in the first blossom of youth and the mother who chaperones her.” She clasped her (cotton-filled) belly. “If I carry a daughter, I only hope I shall face the disparity with good grace! Humiliation is too strong a word.”

“The Wilde girls are, of course, extraordinarily beautiful,” Lady Knowe said innocently. “As you yourself noted yesterday, Lady Woolhastings, Betsy will certainly grow up to be a beauty, and she’s nothing compared to Joan. With her golden hair and perfect features, she will cast everyone in the shade when she debuts.”