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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 the inadvisability of wearing a low-cut gown at her age.

All that didn’t mean she was prepared to negotiate the thicket of scandalmongers.

No gossip about Lady Woolhastings had ever circulated. Ophelia, on the other hand, had faced rancorous disapproval from some who had considered her uppish and called her a night mushroom because her father had been a mere esquire. They pronounced the marriage a misalliance, eyed her waist for signs of pregnancy, and felt free to speculate about how she might have tricked Peter into proposing.

In Ophelia’s opinion, Lady Woolhastings likely had no idea how vicious “polite” society could be.

Thankfully, the end of intermission was signaled by a loud trumpet, and Lady Arden rose to return to her seat.

“I saw you talking to Lady Arden,” Maddie whispered, once the play began again. “Everyone else was happy for me, but I find her a bit frightening. Did you convince her of my child?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Ophelia said.

But she was thinking.

And watching the box across the way from under her lashes.

Chapter Fourteen

Lady Fernby’s supper after the opera was a small, informal affair.

“I’m so sorry to have disrupted your numbers,” Ophelia said, curtsying to their hostess.

Lady Fernby manifestly didn’t mind; she was a jolly woman who rushed to meet them at the door of her drawing room, genuinely thrilled by the news of Maddie’s condition.

“This shall be my last public outing,” Maddie announced. “But I would be most happy if you paid me a morning call, Lady Fernby. I expect these last months will be endlessly tedious, although I will be lucky enough to have my dear cousin’s company.”

“Of course, you must go into confinement,” Lady Fernby agreed, nodding. “You’re already showing, my dear. One does not wish to leave society with an unpleasant memory of one’s enlarged waist.”

Personally, Ophelia thought this was absurd. If she ever carried a child again—which she would not, obviously—she would do exactly as she wished, no matter her size.

“I agree,” Maddie exclaimed, smiling as proudly as if she were truly carrying a child.

“Toward the end of my first confinement, I resembled a whale,” Lady Fernby said. “Have you seen images of that sea beast?”