Hugh glanced over at Frances, who nodded.

“How many dogs?” Hugh asked. It seemed a logical question.

Lady Sarah appeared reluctant to admit to a number, but her younger sister had no such compunctions. “Fifty-three at last count,” Frances said. “But it’s probably more by now. They’re always having puppies.”

Hugh failed to locate an appropriate response.

“Of course he can’t fit them all in one carriage,” Frances added.

“No,” Hugh managed to reply. “I don’t imagine he could.”

“He has often said that he finds animals to be better company than humans,” Sarah said.

“I cannot say that I disagree,” Hugh said. He saw Frances open her mouth to speak and quickly silenced her with a pointed finger. “Unicorns do not count.”

“I was going to say,” she said with feigned affront, “that I wish he would bring the dogs.”

“Are you mad?” Sarah demanded, right as Hugh murmured, “All fifty-three of them?”

“He probably wouldn’t bring them all,” Frances told Hugh before turning to Sarah. “And no, I’m not mad. If he brought the dogs, I’d have someone to play with. There are no other children here.”

“You have me,” Hugh found himself saying.

The two Pleinsworth sisters fell utterly silent. Hugh had a feeling that this was not a common occurrence.

“I suspect you’d have a difficult task recruiting me for a game of Oranges and Lemons,” he said with a shrug, “but I’m happy to do something that does not require much use of my leg.”

“Oh,” Frances said. She blinked a few times. “Thank you.”

“This has been the most entertaining conversation I’ve had at Fensmore,” he told her.

“Really?” Frances asked. “But hasn’t Sarah been assigned to keep you company?”

There was a very awkward silence.

Hugh cleared his throat, but Sarah spoke first. “Thank you, Frances,” she said with great dignity. “I appreciate your taking my place at the head table while I danced.”

“He looked lonely,” Frances said.

Hugh coughed. Not because he was embarrassed, but because he was . . . Bloody hell, he didn’t know what he was feeling just then. It was damned disconcerting.

“Not that he was lonely,” Frances said quickly, shooting him a conspiratorial glance. “But he did look so.” She glanced back and forth between her sister and Hugh, apparently only just realizing she might be caught in the middle of an uncomfortable moment. “And he needed cake.”

“Well, we all need cake,” Hugh put in. He could not have cared less if Lady Sarah was put out, but there was no need for Lady Frances to feel ill at ease.

“I need cake,” Sarah announced.

It was just the thing to move the conversation forward. “You haven’t had any?” Frances asked in amazement. “Oh, but you must. It’s absolutely brilliant. The footman gave me a piece with extra flowers.”

Hugh smiled to himself. Extra flowers, indeed. The decorations had turned Lady Frances’s tongue purple.

“I was dancing,” Sarah reminded her.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Frances pulled a face and turned to Hugh. “It is another great sorrow of being the only child at a wedding. No one dances with me.”