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“Oh. He lost his wife two years ago in that horrible fire accident.”

“Indeed?” Helen asked with a gasp. “That is so horrible.”

“Indeed. I remember the Duke sustained some terrible scars trying to save his wife and son, but in the end, he could only save his son.”

Helen shook her head at the morbidity of the tale.

“When is the wedding?” he asked. “And where will it be held?”

“In a month, and it will be at his Scottish estate,” she answered. “The Duke doesn’t like crowds.”

“A smart man.” Alexander smiled, his grin turning wolfish.

She shook her head at him. “Anything from Sophia?” she asked.

Sophie, too, had tried to make peace with Alexander when the truth of what their mother had done surfaced. She’d apologized profusely and promised to tolerate Helen, even though she disliked her for reasons best known to her. They exchanged correspondence regularly too, and it seemed marriage was fast becoming her sister-in-law, who’d somehow won her mother-in-law’s affection.

His stepmother, however, shamed by her own actions, had kept from sending him any letters, which was not a great loss in anyone’s books.

“Yes. She’s traveling to America soon for her second honeymoon.”

They shook their heads at Sophia’s antics, making a note to write to her before she left.

“I have one from Letitia,” Helen announced, ripping the letter open. “She’s inviting us for a night at the opera when we return.” She smiled. “I will write her back first. I absolutely adore her.”

“As she does you.” Alexander laughed.

“How is the deal with Cecil going?” she asked.

He never really liked to discuss the intricacies of his business with her, which she understood, but she liked knowing things were going well for him.

“Perfectly,” he answered. “I am expecting a letter from him soon.”

“Congratulations, darling,” she said with a smile.

“I thank you, dear wife.” He laughed. “You could choose to congratulate me in some more enjoyable way, though.”

“You are insatiable.”

“Only with you, my love.”

Their reverie was broken when a knock sounded at their door.

“Who is it?” Alexander asked.

“Doctor Fraser is here to see you, Your Graces,” the butler announced.

Helen donned her robe and used her hand to arrange her hair into a near-normal state before Alexander gave admittance.

“Send him in.”

The doctor was a middle-aged man with graying hair and a warm, fatherly smile she’d been accustomed to since childhood. He’d always brought her sweets every time he visited.

Alexander had insisted on him coming so he would be sure she was getting the best care. It was touching how he worried about her.

“Doctor Fraser,” she greeted, smiling broadly at him.

“Little Helen.” Doctor Fraser smiled, then seeing Alexander, he bowed. “Your Grace.”