“Oh my.”

“Miss Willingham was the eldest of only four, but she…” Louisa trailed off, clearly unsure of how to phrase it politely.

“Was shaped like me?” Annabel offered.

Louisa nodded grimly.

Annabel gave a wry grimace. “I suppose he never looked twice in your direction.”

Louisa looked down at herself, all seven and a half stone of her. “Never.” And then, in a most uncharacteristic display of blasphemy, she added, “Thank God.”

“What happened to Lady Frances?” Annabel asked.

“She eloped. With a footman.”

“Good heavens. But she must have had a prior attachment, wouldn’t you think? One wouldn’t run off with a footman just to avoid marriage to an earl.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Well, no,” Annabel said. “It’s not at all practical.”

“I don’t think she was thinking about practicality. I think she was thinking about marriage to that…that…”

“I beseech you, do not finish that sentence.”

Louisa kindly complied.

“If one were going to avoid marriage to Lord Newbury,” Annabel continued, “I would think there must be better ways to do it than marrying a footman. Unless of course she was in love with the footman. That changes everything.”

“Well, it’s neither here nor there. She dashed off to Scotland and no one has heard from her. By then the season was over. I’m sure Lord Newbury has been looking for a bride ever since, but I would think it’s much easier during the season, when everyone is gathered together. Plus,” Louisa added, almost as an afterthought, “if he had been pursuing another lady, I’d hardly have heard about it. He lives in Hampshire.”

Whereas Louisa would have spent the entire winter in Scotland, shivering in her castle.

“And now he’s back,” Annabel stated.

“Yes, and now that he’s lost an entire year, he’ll want to find someone quickly.” Louisa looked over at her with a horrible expression-part pity, part resignation. “If he is interested in you, he’s not going to waste any time with a courtship.”