Today, a couple of excerpts from A Baron for Becky. The first is when the Duchess of Haverford arrives in response to Hugh’s letter, asking her son for help.

Aldridge must have been closer than Hugh expected. Three days after he sent his letters, a train of elegant sleighs coasted up the drive. Carriages, really, but with skids rather than wheels, each pulled by a pair of sturdy horses. The children, taking advantage of a break in the weather to play in the snow, stopped in their tracks and watched.

From the study window, Hugh could see three of the ornately carved and painted sleighs turn away towards the stable yard, and the remaining two continue to the front steps. He was not surprised all five sported the Haverford crest.

He excused himself to Becky, who didn’t look up from the fire she was examining so intently, and sent a maid to sit with her while he went down to greet his guest. He pasted on a smile. Hugh had sent for the arrogant, self-centred, wife-stealing son-of-a-bitch. And if Becky wanted to go with him, then that was the price Hugh would pay for Becky to be well again. Even if it meant losing Belle.

Smile. He needed to smile.

One carriage was disgorging an enormous number of retainers. How had they all fit? Sitting on one another’s knees? Aldridge stood at the door of the other, handing down a lady. Surely even Aldridge wouldn’t bring one of his paramours here!

Then the lady lifted her head. The face under the bonnet brought his smile out in truth.

He hurried down the steps to greet her. “Your Grace. I am so glad you have come.”

And in the second excerpt, she carts Hugh off to his study and proceeds to instruct him in how to bring his wife back to health.

He could be hopeful, but shouldn’t expect the current rally to last, the Duchess of Haverford instructed him. She had sent her son to play cards with her companion, and demanded that Hugh escort her into his study, where she asked him incisive questions about Becky’s illness and her treatment.

“The doctor said her humours were out of balance, and he bled her, but…”

“Stupid,” Her Grace said. “Very stupid. She had just had a baby and lost who knows how much blood, and the man bled her?”

“He bled her for the fever, too,” Hugh admitted. “But the second time, she was so weak. I was afraid she was dying. I wouldn’t let him do it again.”

“Good.” The duchess nodded. “You have some sense, then. I had my doubts. Very well, Overton. You shall place yourself in my hands, and I shall tell you what you must do.”

“I will not put her away,” Hugh said, firmly. “Even if her mind is weak…”

“Put her away? Why would you put her away? She will recover fully, and I will help. I have seen this before, Overton. Women, after giving birth to a child, often suffer a disorder of the humours. It passes. Your wife has had a worse time of it than many, perhaps because she also had childbed fever. I sometimes think that we gentry are more prone than cottagers, because others will do our tasks if we turn our faces to the wall.

“Several of my goddaughters have had this melancholy, and I, myself, after the birth of my dear Jonathan. Also, Overton, I think there has been some cause for estrangement between you. You will tell me whether I am right, for I do not suggest it to be a busybody, but because you need to mend it for your wife’s sake. A misunderstanding, of course, because she cannot bear to be parted from you. And you, it seems, love her dearly, about which I am delighted, since I hold myself in some sort responsible for the marriage.

“Whatever the cause, she has roused now, and we shall keep her with us, but be prepared to work hard and be patient.”

And so they began a strict regimen designed to build up Becky’s body. “Her mind will heal itself, Overton,” the duchess lectured, “but she needs good food, exercise, and sleep. And you must reassure her often. You will do that, will you not?”