My Last Duchess (The Wildes of Lindow Castle #0.5) - Eloisa James Page 0,32

may be carrying his heir.”

With that, she burst out sobbing, and Ophelia gathered her up and rocked her back and forth, making plans the whole while.

“Where are you bid to tonight?” she asked, once Maddie had calmed again.

“Nowhere tonight. Thursday, the theater, followed by supper at Lady Fernby’s house. I shall be in Penshallow’s box, though he has informed me that he is busy, likely with his other mistress, the one who isn’t carrying a child.”

“Excellent,” Ophelia said. “You must write to Lady Fernby, and tell her that due to your delicate condition, you wish me to accompany you. I’m sure that she’ll have no objection; we are quite friendly.”

“Oh, she loves you,” Maddie said. She brightened. “The Duke of Lindow will attend the supper, so you can meet again. Lady Fernby boasted that His Grace and Lady Woolhastings would join them.”

Ophelia winced, but luckily her cousin didn’t notice.

“Nothing’s been announced between them,” Maddie continued. “Perhaps you can still be a duchess, Ophelia. What shall you wear?”

“It doesn’t matter what I wear,” Ophelia said. “More important is what you wear. You can trust your maid, can’t you?”

“Of course,” Maddie said. “She was my nanny—” She broke off. “Oh, goodness, I suppose I’ll have to find a new maid because Dottie will wish to return to the nursery, without a doubt.”

“Excellent!” Ophelia said, jumping to her feet. “When I was carrying Viola, my maid fashioned a marvelous sling since my back hurt so terribly. It will hold a pillow in just the right position at your waist. I’ll ask her where it is.”

“And you trust her?”

“With my life,” Ophelia said. “The same for all my servants.”

“All right,” Maddie said, getting up. “I suppose it’s better to pretend to carry Penshallow’s child than actually have to carry it.”

“Under the circumstances, yes,” Ophelia said. “And much safer too. Just think of how many ladies have lost their lives in childbirth.”

Maddie brightened a little. “It’s terrible for one’s figure.”

“Exactly,” Ophelia said. “Just look what it did for my bosom.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Maddie protested, following her from the room. “I would love to have your curves.”

Chapter Ten

The Duke of Lindow’s townhouse

Mayfair

Hugo was meeting with one of his estate managers when a great noise rose from downstairs. He knew instantly what it was, so he stood and offered the man a smile. “It seems that I must break off our meeting, Mr. Elms. My children are apparently paying me an unexpected visit.”

“I understand,” Mr. Elms said, gathering up his estate book. “May I take it that you approve of the plans for new hedgerows, Your Grace?”

“Yes,” Hugo said, going to the door. “If you’ll forgive me.” And with that, he headed downstairs. It was stupid beyond all measure, but he had missed them. All of them, even little Joan, who wailed every time she saw him.

His sister was surrounded by footmen, one holding her high-plumed bonnet, another her exquisite French muff, a third her perfumed gloves. “Surprise!” she called, waving at him.

The entry was filled with Wildes. The boys were in their Eton coats, so his sister must have picked them up from school. Alaric was pummeling North in the shoulder and Horatius was barking a lecture. Not to be left out, four-year-old Betsy looked ready to leap into the fray, but she noticed his arrival.

“Papa!” she shrieked, running toward the stairs. All heads turned, and the babble of voices rose higher.

Hugo scooped Betsy up into his arms and gave her a kiss. North, Parth, and Alaric ran to him. They stopped a foot or so away and bobbed bows, and then as he put Betsy down, all three of them hurled into his arms. Leonidas followed, grabbing one of his legs, and even Alexander struggled to be put down and trotted toward him. Only Joan buried her face in her nanny’s neck and refused to look at him.

Ophelia had made him feel like an inadequate father, but he wasn’t.

His heir, Horatius, advanced two steps, and swept him an exquisite bow. “Your Grace,” he said.

“Horatius, you ass,” he said, “come give me a hug.”

His eldest submitted to an embrace, but reluctantly. Hugo made sure not to crush his cravat, as it had obviously taken a good deal of time and starch to achieve such perfect folds.

Then Hugo walked to Joan’s nanny, and with a nod, took his little girl, talking before she had a chance to start crying. “I missed you, Joanie.” Looking down at the smaller children, he said, “Do you all know what