A Baron for Becky

Chapter seventeen

3 months later, Lancashire

Becky knew from whence the letter came before she took it from the salver. The Haverford seal embossed the heavy wax, and the Duke of Haverford had franked it. She held it to her nose for a moment; she had a better sense of smell when pregnant, but would have recognised this scent even without the extra boost of her condition.

She levered herself to her feet to go to her desk, refusing help offered by the hovering butler. She still had four or five weeks to go, according to the local midwife and the very expensive accoucheur Hugh had brought up from Liverpool, but she felt enormous. Surely she hadn't been this big and awkward with Sarah?

The servants would have wrapped her in cotton wool if they could. Hugh, too. She smiled at the thought of her attentive husband. She was so happy, so very, very blessed. It was a heady thing to be treated as a lady, a person worthy of respect.

And Hugh, who would be home from his week in Liverpool this very day, he seemed content too. It was simple enough to keep a man satisfied. All she had to do was make sure his house was comfortable, his daughters cared for, and his needs met. And this letter would help, she was sure.

Her letter opener made short work of the seal. She unfolded the letter carefully, and laughed. No economies for Her Grace, the Duchess of Haverford. Three sheets were covered with her small, elegant hand. Becky scanned them quickly. Most comprised instructions, admonitions, and suggestions about her pregnancy.

Several lines brought her up to date with news on Aldridge, who was—so the duchess said—well and about his usual activities. 'And still wearing that ridiculous arm-band, my dear Rebecca, which I cannot like, though whether that is in memory of his mistress or because of the sympathy it wins from woman, I would not like to venture a guess.' Becky snorted. She did not have to guess.

Ah. Here is what she sought. She read quickly, her smile broadening. But this was perfect! Hugh would be so pleased, and so would the girls. And Miss Wilson, Sarah's governess, who had come as a favour to Becky and Aldridge but was anxious to begin her promised retirement before the first snow.

She began a reply. She wouldn't send it until she had spoken to Hugh, but needn't waste time.

A footfall behind her announced her husband an instant before his hand came over her shoulder and snatched up the letter.

"Hugh!" she turned awkwardly in the chair. Her husband's stormy face unsettled her. "Hugh? Is something wrong?"

The storm faded quickly. His frown turned to puzzlement, and he nibbled at his upper lip as he read the first page of the letter, then turned to the signature. "The Duchess of Haverford?"

"Who did you think?" Becky knew perfectly well what he thought. How could he? She had given him no reason to doubt her!

"I... uh..." He shuffled the pages, shifting uncomfortably. He covered his embarrassment with a glare. "Why is the Duchess writing to you? Does she mention Aldridge?"

It hadn't occurred to Becky until this moment that they never talked about Aldridge. Never. And what a large oversight that was. He was supposed to be Hugh's best friend, and had, in his own way, been a good friend to her, but in this house, he had ceased to exist.

"She says he is still wearing a black armband and enjoying sympathy, presumably, mostly from women," she told Hugh, trying to keep the hurt and anger from her voice.

"That sounds like Aldridge." He looked down at the letter.

Becky took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Calm. Stay calm. "I wrote to the duchess to ask if she would find us a governess, Hugh. Miss Wilson only came for a short time, and it has already been three months."