Sophia waited one more week before informing the duchess that she had sent for the local midwife. She told her that, although she’d gone several weeks before without having her courses, she’d never gone this long. In addition, she said she was experiencing a few pronounced symptoms consistent with what would be expected of a lady in an interesting condition.

The duchess was overjoyed, of course.

“But not the midwife, dear. We will have a physician from London attend to you. I shall keep him here on retainer so that you receive the best of care around the clock.” The duchess stood and clasped her hands in front of her. “Oh, I knew it, Sophia! I am so happy! You are giving me the greatest gift any daughter-in-law could ever give. You are giving me back a part of my son!”

Sophia would have grimaced at this but kept a placid expression on her face. Before imparting this news to the duchess, Sophia had considered her position within the household carefully and was determined to affect some changes.

“That is not going to be necessary, your grace,” Sophia said softly, but firmly. “I have already sent for the midwife and would find myself quite… uncomfortable having a physician here.” She paused.

The duchess raised her brows nearly into her hairline at Sophia’s disagreeable statement.

“I have also hired a new lady’s maid. I appreciate Penny’s efficiency and dedication, but I find she and I are not… completely sympathetic to each other.” No, Penny’s loyalty had always, and would always be, to the duchess first. Which, as the duchess’ employee, was perfectly acceptable, but Sophia decided she needed to put an end to the constant monitoring on her grace’s part.

While meeting with the solicitors a few weeks earlier, Sophia discovered that, as Harold’s widow, she could freely access her own accounts. She would pay her maid from those funds. The girl she’d hired from a nearby village, Gilly, would be exclusively employed by Sophia. Although she would be expected to give deference to the duchess, there would be no question as to where her loyalties would lie.

In a secretive interview, Sophia had discussed her need for privacy with the girl. And although Gilly was not as refined and educated as Penny, Sophia felt an affinity with her. She would be arriving at the estate to take up her position later this afternoon.

The duchess’ eyes narrowed. “You know, Sophia, that I have always had your best interests at heart in everything I do.” Her tone imparted disappointment and hurt.

Sophia touched her mother-in-law’s hand. “And I have appreciated your care and concern…” She wanted to be honest. She wished to establish a sense of independence with this conversation. But she did not want to build a wall between herself and the duchess. “…I can no longer abide having the most personal details of my life shared with others. It makes me feel… uncomfortable, exposed.” Sophia was determined to have a maid with whom she could trust the most intimate aspects of her life. “You would not tolerate such a lack of privacy, would you?”

The duchess pinched her lips together tightly. “The solicitors prefer a physician confirm your condition,” she persisted.

But on these matters, Sophia was adamant.

Emily, who was so well read as to practically be considered a bluestocking, had once explained to herself, Rhoda, and Cecily, that the difference between a physician and a good midwife could be life or death for the woman and her child. Although the physicians were well educated, they could not understand the woman’s body as a midwife could. Emily had advised her friends, on one particular occasion as they’d sat amongst the other wallflowers, that when they were with child, they ought to find a midwife who’d attended numerous births, and then investigate each of their mortality rates.

Sophia had already asked Dev about this, and he’d taken the task to heart. He’d located a woman from Kent who was highly recommended. She would come and see Sophia later that day.

“The midwife’s opinion will have to be good enough,” Sophia declared. She would hold her ground. “She will be here later today.”

The duchess considered Sophia with pursed lips for a long moment before surprising her by turning and tugging at the bell pull. “Well then…” She seemed to have come to a decision. “…we might as well have some tea.”

Other encouraging aspects materialized that day as well. It seemed that as soon as Sophia decided to take a modicum of control over her life, good things followed.

First, the midwife declared Sophia’s womb to be the size of a woman who had conceived perhaps eight weeks earlier. It was mostly filled with water, she told Sophia, the baby barely the size of a bean. Sophia wondered how a person could know this.

Mrs. Fletcher, the midwife, asked Sophia several questions about how she was feeling and then gave her advice as to how to cope with some of the ailments of her condition. All in all, she announced, Sophia and the baby seemed perfectly healthy.

Gilly had arrived just before the checkup and was taking to her position quite instinctively. She’d a prior acquaintance with the midwife, in fact, and this helped remove some of the awkwardness from the examination. And, although likely not as educated as Penny, Gilly was able to write down Mrs. Fletcher’s instruction and even asked a few questions.

Sophia was pleased, all in all, with the afternoon.

Even more so when she received Cecily’s letter!

Cecily was free of Lord Kensington forever! Even so, she had not stayed a single lady for long. She’d married Mr. Stephen Nottingham, the earl’s cousin, whom Sophia had known Cecily loved. Of course, Cecily had told them adamantly that she did not, but Sophia had not believed a word of it. And now Cecily herself was expecting a baby just a few months earlier than Sophia.

Cecily’s situation had seemed to be a hopeless one, and for Sophia to hear of such news, she could almost believe that anything was possible.

* * *

The solicitors, upon obtaining confirmation of Sophia’s condition, advised Dev that he ought to insist a physician be in attendance, at the least, to witness the birth of his niece or nephew.

They advised him that it would benefit Lady Harold to give birth to a son, and that he knew of one occurrence, anyhow, where an infant boy had been substituted intentionally, so that the title was not transferred to another relative.

Dev assured them that Lady Harold could be trusted implicitly. He did not tell them he intended to attend the birth himself when the time came. It would be unusual, he knew. But he refused to allow her to go through childbirth without him by her side. He would do what he could to comfort her, if she allowed it, that was.

He could not imagine lazing in the library, drinking brandy, listening to her cries of pain from a distance. He wondered how Sophia would react when he told her this.

What with the duchess’ blessing, her desire for Dev to marry Sophia, he relaxed the distance he’d kept from Sophia earlier. In fact, on a daily basis now, he walked with her outside for a half an hour. He often took tea with her and the duchess.

Spending even a small amount of time with Sophia openly, alone, was balm to his soul. They chatted about all the things they’d not had time to discover about one another before. He told her of his childhood, his travels, and some of the trials he was having over the dukedom, and she, in turn, confided stories about her friends, the relationship she had with her mother, and fears she had of childbirth. They were coming to know each other in a much different way than they had before.

Dev was proud of Sophia for hiring a new lady’s maid. She was finding her place — discovering her own strength.

The duchess had been slightly cooler than usual for a few days after that but had warmed up again quickly enough. It went without saying that his aunt was overjoyed at the prospect of a grandchild.

The duchess — and everyone else, of course — believed the child to be Harold’s.

Despite the horrible tragedies they’d endured that summer, hope had crept into the house again, with the expectancy of a new life.

Cooler weather was just around the corner, with a hint of frost covering the landscape in the early mornings now. The leaves turned from green to reds and yellow and before long had all fallen to the ground.

On the first day of October, Dev was perusing a few reports on various harvests throughout the dukedom when he finally came across the letter he’d been watching for.

He recognized Harold’s handwriting right off.

Feeling as though he held a bomb in his hands, he tore open the seal and methodically deciphered the code he’d taught Harold so many weeks ago.

The wording was awkward, but it took only a moment for the meaning of the letter to become apparent.

Received your letter before sailing. Distraught hearing of the tragedy but sailed anyway. I cannot return. Please understand and support my decision. Happiness at last within my grasp. You were born for this. More a brother to me than the Saint. Be happy with her. No turning back. A free man at last.

Joy and satisfaction assailed Dev at the news.

Harold was alive.

He was happy.

And with Harold’s happiness, Dev knew what he must do.

Pulling the bell pull, he sent Mr. Evans to request that the duchess and Lady Harold join him in the library.

If he and Sophia were to have a future together, free of deceit and guilt, the truth must be told. He’d considered this conversation for weeks now. At last the time had come.

The ladies arrived together. He rose from his chair and bowed when they entered.

Waving at him to sit, the duchess smiled benevolently. “Evans said you wished to speak to us.”

Sophia found a wing-backed chair off to the side, and the duchess sat in her usual place.

Dev cleared his throat and, despite having rehearsed his words a thousand times in his mind, suddenly had no idea where to begin.

“You poor dear…” His aunt was in a gracious mood today. “…I know you did not anticipate any of this falling upon you. But you must know you’ve handled everything wonderfully. I don’t know what Sophia or I would have done without you these past weeks. Do you, Sophia?”

Sophia must have sensed that he had something of importance to discuss. She merely smiled timidly and agreed. “I do not, your grace.”

“Aunt,” Dev began, “I must confess something to you. Before I explain, please understand that the blame ought to rightfully be placed upon me. I could have stopped the events of what I am to tell you at any time, but I did not.”

Sophia sat up straighter at his words.

Her grace’s brows furrowed at his statement. “What is it, Dev?”

“Before Harold and Sophia married, before they traveled to Priory Point, you must have known that Harold’s life was in grave danger, as was Stewart’s.” At the mention of Harold’s lover’s name, the duchess looked away from Dev and pinched her lips together. “My father,” Dev continued, “informed me at the time that Prescott had received some threats, as had Harold. Did you know of any of this?”

“Vile creatures.” She surprised him with her answer. “Blackmailers and hypocrites, the lot of them.”

Dev nodded and then forced himself to continue. “Harold did not wish to marry Sophia but conceded in order to protect you –– and Stewart –– in order to protect the family from scandal.”

The duchess blinked away tears. “Why are you bringing all of this up now?” She shifted her eyes in Sophia’s direction, obviously not wanting to share such skeletons with her daughter-in-law. She had no way of knowing that Sophia had learned of Harold’s proclivities firsthand. And, of course, no one was happy to discuss such matters openly. “None of it matters any longer, after all.”

“Ah, aunt, but it does. Because Harold devised an alternative solution, one where he and Sophia would not be required to live out their lives as man and wife, one where he could live openly with the person he loved.” He then handed Harold’s letter, with his own translation scrawled in the margins, across the desk to the duchess.

“This is gibberish,” she said at first. And then realizing the carefully written letters were familiar somehow, she set to examining both the handwriting and the decoded words.

“It came in the mail today.” He would divulge all. “Harold faked his death. The jump was planned and executed in a way that it would appear he could not survive.” He went on to explain about the cave, the getaway, the planning they’d all put into it.

As the duchess gradually comprehended what he was saying, tears began to fall unheeded. “He is not returning, though?” she asked, waving the paper in the air. “What about Sophia and the baby? He loved Sophia! Penny told me!”

What he had to confess now was even more difficult. But Sophia spoke up first. “Penny was wrong.”

“But that cannot be so! Sophia, dear, you are with child! Dev is mistaken on this. Oh, Harold must return to you, Sophia. He must take up his rightful position!”

“He was unhappy here, your grace.” Sophia spoke softly but with great conviction.

“The rumors were becoming dangerous,” Dev interjected. “You know this. Read the letter again, Aunt Loretta. Harold has done all of this so that he can live his life in his own way.”

She read it through again and then blew her nose into a handkerchief. “But what of the baby?”

Dev had already decided to tell his aunt everything… well nearly everything. Looking across the room into eyes as blue as the sky, Dev held back nothing. “I love Sophia. I’ve loved her since the day we met. The child she carries is mine.”

Barely able to tug his gaze away from the woman he loved, Dev faced his aunt once again. Would the duchess lash out at him? Would she blame him for the other tragic events of the summer? Would she hate him forever?

No, she merely shook her head sadly. Dev handed her a new handkerchief. “It was too good to be true, wasn’t it?” She smiled wanly at Sophia but did not break down sobbing. This woman hadn’t lived most of her adult life a duchess for nothing. She raised her chin and glanced between the two of them. “But Harold lives? My son is alive?”

“He is,” Dev confirmed.

Over the next thirty minutes or so, Dev answered every question the duchess could think of pertaining to the summer’s events. She was surprisingly agreeable, even acquiescing to the decision they’d made to keep Dudley’s demise from the Scofields.

And then, at last, she had just one question left.

“What do we do now?”