Hugo’s heart was thumping hard. His sister—darling, wonderful Louisa—had rid him of Lady Woolhastings. And then, it seemed, she had offered toasts until she succumbed, because when he looked about for her, he found Louisa reclining serenely on a sofa, looking as prim as if she were napping in her own bedchamber.

“She was up most of the night with Alexander, who was feverish,” Ophelia said. Her tone was defensive.

Hugo dropped a kiss on her head because . . . she was defending his family. To him.

“I’m afraid that Alexander caught a chill at the fair,” he said. “How is Viola?”

“Very well,” Ophelia said. “We’re lucky, as she’s never been ill.”

“That will change,” Hugo said cheerfully. “When one child gets sick in the nursery, they all follow suit. All of them will likely come down with fevers tonight. Was my sister drinking champagne from that tankard?” he asked, nodding toward an empty cup on the table. “No wonder she went to sleep.”

“She said that champagne tastes better from a pedestrian vessel,” Ophelia said. “That’s a quote. Your sister has a fascinating way of expressing herself.”

“Ah.”

Hugo turned to say goodbye to Lady Fernby, only to discover that she too was now peacefully slumbering.

After that, he gave the butler a guinea to ensure that Louisa got home safely. “I shall escort Lady Astley to her house,” he said.

“I will send the lady home in Lady Fernby’s best carriage,” the man promised. “Accompanied by a groom, it hardly needs to be said.”

“Best send two,” Hugo advised. “My sister is as tall as I am, and unless she is completely alert, one groom will find it difficult to steer her into the house.”

“Excellent,” Ophelia cried, jumping from her chair. “I don’t know why everyone is asleep. I don’t feel tired in the least.”

They no sooner entered the carriage than Ophelia launched herself at him and kissed him, more clumsily than expertly, but with more than enough passion to make up for it. The feeling when her tongue met his made Hugo start shaking all over.

Perhaps it was age, he thought dimly.

Perhaps he felt things more fiercely, because time had a different meaning for him now. He knew that loved ones could die. He knew that time was finite. Perhaps that was what made a simple kiss feel like a conflagration, like no kiss he’d ever shared before.

Even with Marie.

For her part, Ophelia wrapped her arms more and more tightly around his neck, pausing only to murmur husky words that he couldn’t quite make out. His body was tight, blood thumping through his loins, head fogged by the scent and the taste of her.