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babies got into position several weeks before the birth, their head at the entrance of the birth canal in readiness.  He didn’t share his worries with Neve, but he’d spent hours on his knees in church, praying for a safe delivery.  He kept his fears in check around his wife, but deep down, he was absolutely terrified.  Roughly fifty percent of women died in childbirth; sometimes during the actual labor, and many times within a few days of delivery.  Countless newborns died with them.  Neve had made her decision to go back to the past with him, but he couldn’t help blaming himself for taking her away from the miracles of modern medicine that were the norm in the twenty-first century.  What he wouldn’t give to have Neve give birth in a hospital with a trained staff, an operating theater should anything go wrong, and various drugs to ease the pain. 
    Hugo dragged his mind away from the impending birth as Neve’s stomach suddenly bulged just beneath her ribs, a protrusion the size of a small fist just visible under the skin.  Knee or foot? Hugo wondered as he gently pushed back.  He felt a ripple deep within as the baby shifted position, and Neve’s belly went back to normal.  How did she sleep through all these acrobatics? he wondered.  He wished he could sleep, but his mind buzzed like a beehive; thoughts, ideas, and worries colliding, multiplying, and morphing into new concerns.  Hugo hadn’t shared these particular worries with Neve, since despite agreeing to her not going into confinement, he strongly believed that she should feel as serene and untroubled as possible during this delicate time.  Sooner or later, he’d have to divulge what was on his mind, but not until after Neve was safely delivered.
    Hugo stared at the darkened canopy of the four-poster, trying to make out the fauna and flora so elaborately embroidered on the apple-green damask, which appeared to be a deep gray in the darkness of the room.  The matching bed hangings kept out the worst of the drafts, and created a comforting cocoon around his little family, but Hugo’s mind was still awhirl.  The conversation about Frances was only part of what was on his mind these days, a very small part.  He’d naively thought that getting away from England would solve most of their problems, but there were particulars that he hadn’t properly taken into consideration, and they had been pointed out to him by Luke shortly after their move into the new house. 
    Unlike Bradford Nash, who was Hugo’s closest friend and the one person Hugo would trust not only with his own life, but those of his wife and future child, Luke had been more of a partner in crime.  They’d had some epic adventures while at Court as teenage boys, and there had been a healthy rivalry between them.  Hugo always suspected that Luke had flirted with Margaret simply because he knew that Hugo had residual feelings for her from the time when he was a boy.  But, it had been Nicholas Marsden, who was several years older than Hugo, who had sweet-talked Margaret into following him to London from Cranley after visiting the Everlys in Surrey, but had ultimately tired of her and cast her aside. And now Hugo was foster father to Margaret’s child, whom everyone perceived to be his own.  Hugo had noticed Luke watching Jem when he came into the room, seeing the ghost of his mother in the child’s face.  He’d had a speculative look on his face, but said nothing as he waited for Jem to leave so that he could address what he’d come to discuss with Hugo.
    “How’s your lady, Hugo?” he asked, starting from afar.  “Is she pleased with her new home?”
    “Yes, Neve is settling in very well.  Thank you for recommending Doctor Durant; he’s due to call tomorrow,” Hugo replied, wondering why Luke had asked to speak with him privately.  He’d never before seemed to mind the company of Neve, and especially not that of Frances, who’d left him nearly speechless with