My Last Duchess (The Wildes of Lindow Castle #0.5) - Eloisa James Page 0,47

in attendance, accompanied by Lady Woolhastings?” She nodded at the box across from them, which was as thronged as their own with visitors. “I must say, that pairing has surprised me.”

“Oh?” Ophelia asked. “I know Lady Woolhastings, of course, but she is considerably older than I am.” If she felt an errant thrill at that truth, it was only natural. Or so she assured herself.

“Her eldest daughter and I were presented at St. James in the same drawing room, so yes, she is my mother’s age. Just look at them together!”

Ophelia had managed not to glance at the ducal box before the play, or during the first three acts, but now she couldn’t stop herself.

Hugo wore a sober coat of dark blue, enlivened by a sumptuous apricot waistcoat. He was standing, since ladies were visiting their box. Two women remained seated: Lady Woolhastings and Lady Knowe, who was wearing a gown à la française that made Ophelia feel a flash of pure jealousy.

“I would never wear that gown at her age,” Lady Arden said.

“You wouldn’t?” Ophelia breathed. “I think the blue is exquisite.”

“Oh, that,” Lady Arden cried. “Not that. Everyone knows that Lady Knowe orders all her fabric from France. No, that sack gown that Lady Woolhastings is wearing.” She shivered.

Ophelia deliberately hadn’t looked closely at Lady Woolhastings, the woman whom Hugo had chosen to replace her. That sounded bitter, and she had no right to bitterness, given her refusal of his proposal.

She forced herself to look at Lady Woolhastings as if yesterday’s trip to the Frost Fair had never happened, as if the lady were a stranger. She was wearing a neat, small wig that covered her head with organized rows of curls, and she had a quite pretty face.

“That’s a very close wig. Do you think that she’s shaved her head?” Lady Arden whispered. “Ladies of my mother’s generation often do so.”

Ophelia raised her shoulders in a hopeless shrug. Hugo had adored her hair. She couldn’t imagine him in bed with a bald woman.

“But that dress,” Lady Arden moaned. “Lady Woolhastings is going to be a duchess, and she is wearing a dress that airs her entire bosom to the theater, at her age?”

The gown in question was fashioned from silk patterned with stripes of red flowers, and horizontal ruffles across the front. Almost none of that cloth appeared above the waist: the lady was flaunting oceans of creamy skin, with only a small ruffle keeping her nipples from open view.

“Of course, His Grace doesn’t care about her bosom,” Lady Arden said. “He’s interested in her maternal side.”

Ophelia tormented herself by asking another question. “Her daughters are well married, are they not?”

“Yes, she’ll be a good mother to his children,” Lady Arden agreed. “Though not even she could marry off his youngest, given the child’s illegitimacy.”

Ophelia raised a startled eyebrow. Generally, she avoided gossip of this sort, but that was precisely why she was talking to Lady Arden, of course. If she believed in Maddie’s confinement, then everyone would.

“I hear that the youngest is the spitting image of the Prussian whom his wife ran off with,” Lady Arden whispered, her eyes alight. “Golden hair and a Prussian nose.”

“I’m certain there is golden hair in the Lindow family line,” Ophelia said firmly, avoiding even the faintest tone of indignation. It never did to show emotion in these situations. “I can hardly imagine a two-year-old with a Prussian nose! I expect it is as stubby and round as my own daughter’s.”

“You are so good-natured,” Lady Arden said. “It’s a pity that the duke didn’t look to you, my dear. Everyone knows what an excellent mother you are. What’s more, you wouldn’t make such an obvious faux pas. A duchess oughtn’t to expose her bosom to the world.”

“I couldn’t wear that dress,” Ophelia said with a sigh. “No modiste could manage to confine my bosom with such a small amount of fabric.”

“Perhaps you would be able to marry off the child of the Prussian, but Lady Woolhastings will not, mark my words. She won’t be a powerful duchess, if you understand what I mean.”

Ophelia did understand.

She herself had married above her station when she became espoused to Peter. Luckily, she’d had a relatively smooth introduction to polite society. Peter was an excellent tutor, and she learned a great deal from observation.

Lady Woolhastings was comfortably used to being among the highest in the land. She was a lady-in-waiting to the queen, for goodness’ sake. She didn’t care what other women said about