Page 108 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

Isolde, the carriage, the polite voice, the kindness.

She closed her eyes, recalling how uneasy she had felt talking to Isolde that morning and the almost, though not quite, sincerity in her voice and smile.

She thought about finding her in Leopold’s study, where she had looked out of place standing behind his desk, and how quickly she had closed the file she had been reading when Honora looked. But what did it all mean? Was Isolde trying to kidnap Cecily and claim her for her own? Did she mean to have Cecily harmed and Honora framed for it? What was Isolde planning?

The journey’s destination was unknown to Honora, which made it seem endless, and it was all a blur. By the time the carriage finally stopped, darkness had settled completely. Honora’s body ached from the constant jolting. Her hands hurt from gripping the seat. She cried herself empty during the journey and had no strength left.

The carriage door opened. A man stood outside. Honora’s heart raced. Was he about to kill her? Would anyone ever notice if she went missing?

“Out.”

Honora looked past him. She did not recognize the house. It was large but unfamiliar, surrounded by darkness and trees, no village lights, no road she knew, and no sign that she was anywhere near any place she found familiar.

“Where am I?”

There was, of course, no answer. The man took her arm. Honora resisted, summoning strength she did not know she could find.

“Where is the baby? Tell me where Cecily is.”

He said nothing, only pulled her toward the house. Honora fought long enough to stumble through the doorway. The hall was dark. No servants appeared, and no one spoke.

She was taken upstairs and pushed into a room. It was illuminated only by the rising moonlight, and furnished only by a small table with a single drawer, a narrow cot with bedding balled up at the foot of it, and a seemingly empty wardrobe with one of its doors hanging on by a single hinge. And in the middle of the cot sat a red-faced, dirt-streaked Cecily.

Honora stopped. The baby was crying. Honora rushed to her.

“Cecily.” She gathered her into her arms at once, and the baby clung to her, sobbing against her neck.

Honora held her tightly, holding back her own sobs of fear and relief. “I am here, darling. It is all right.”

The door slammed behind them. The lock clicked loudly. Honora froze. She crossed the room and tried the handle, despite the sound she had just heard. As she suspected, it was locked. She was grateful to be reunited with Cecily. But now, the situation made even less sense. Why had someone separated Cecily from Honora, just to send them to the same house? Why had they been abducted at all?

Honora sank to the floor with Cecily in her arms. The baby continued to cry. Honora pressed her cheek to the child’s hair.

“It is all right,” she said again. The words sounded false even to her. She rocked Cecily slowly. Outside the room, footsteps moved away.

Honora closed her eyes. She thought of Isolde standing in the entrance hall, her polite voice, her gentle expression, her offer of a carriage.

A kindness, she had called it.

Honora held Cecily tighter. It seemed ridiculous to think that Isolde had something to do with the current situation. Even if Isolde had been jealous of Honora for some reason, Honora’s leaving with Cecily would have removed her from Isolde’s life without any extra effort.

And whereas Honora had first thought that Isolde had intended to kidnap Cecily, she could now see that was untrue, as she now held Cecily once again. More than ever, she was confused. It seemed that Isolde could not be behind their abduction. And if it was not Isolde, who had orchestrated it? And why?

Chapter 21

The house was wrong. Leopold knew it the moment he stepped into the nursery. The room was exactly as it had been the first night Cecily arrived at Belgrave. The crib was empty, with the little blanket Cecily had kicked away countless times folded neatly at the foot.

There was no baby, no woman sitting beside the crib, no soft voice, no small hand reaching for whatever happened to be nearest.

Leopold entered the room slowly, his heart aching with every step. He crossed to the wardrobe he had set up for Cecily on her first night, and his heart fell further. All the items he had purchased for her remained.

Honora had not taken any of them. Nor had she taken any of the toys, which he noticed when he went to the toybox. Everything he had ever bought for the baby remained in that room. Even the bottles sat atop the small vanity beside an empty water pitcher.

This is what I wanted, he thought. Honora is gone, the child is gone, and the house will be quiet again.

He should have felt relieved. Instead, the silent emptiness left in their wake seemed to press against him from every direction, threatening to crush him.

He turned and went to Honora’s room. The bed was made, the drawers empty, the chair beside the window unused, the room looking as though nobody had ever lived there except for one faint impression in the pillow that had already begun to disappear.