By the time the carriage shuddered to a halt, his breath had become a harsh noise in his ears, his heart pounding in his chest. He had his hands inside her cloak now, running over her breasts.

“I will marry you,” Ophelia said to him, as Hugo pulled his shaking hands from her cloak and tried to straighten her hair. It was hopelessly disordered, hairpins scattered all over the carriage floor.

“Thank you,” he said, shocked to hear how guttural his voice had become.

He could not take her inside and seduce her, in the drawing room, in the corridor, in the butler’s pantry: anywhere with a roof.

It wouldn’t be gentlemanly. Not right.

She’d had too much champagne. A whole bottle, if Lady Fernby was correct.

“You are not going to feel well tomorrow,” he said, running a finger down her perfectly trim little nose. “God, we’re going to have beautiful children. If you want children,” he added hastily.

“Do you want more children?”

He shook his head. “Not in the general way, but with you? Hell, Ophelia, I would love to have a child with you. As long as your first birth wasn’t difficult?”

“Extremely easy,” she said, dimpling at him. “Well, Duke, I suggest we go to my bedchamber and try to make a baby. Your sister assured me that I would be carrying within the week, so that means a special license.”

Hugo’s eyes widened. “You discussed children—having children with me—with Louisa?”

“She brought up the subject and I thought it was a good idea.” She blinked at him. “Not a good idea?”

He shook his head. And then nodded. “You can discuss whatever you wish with Louisa.”

“Louisa,” Ophelia said. “I like her name. She has promised to stay with us. Yvette’s children are really hers, you know.”

“I do know,” he said. “Marie’s are shared with her as well. Marie would never have wanted to leave them, but I am certain she approves of how Louisa has mothered them.”

“I suspect my Viola will be won over immediately,” Ophelia said. “By you as well. She’s never had a man in her life, although she’s fond of our butler. So, will you please come into the house with me, Your Grace?” A sensual little smile played around her mouth.

“I can’t.”

Her brows drew together. “Because of Lady Woolhastings? I was hoping . . .”

“Did you think that I was gone for two hours because she was clarifying her disinclination to marry me? She cleared that matter up in the first five minutes. After that we shared a carriage in silence for forty-five minutes, as there was a traffic snarl around Shepherd Market. It took me equally as long to return.”

“I’m sorry,” Ophelia said, not looking in the least sorry. “But truly, Hugo, you would have been very unhappy with her. She was not interested in being a mother.”