Page 117 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

“One can hope,” she muttered before she could stop herself.

The men looked at her, then at each other. Then, the tall man gathered the letters, and they both walked toward the door. Honora watched him.

“Why are you showing me these?”

The shorter man sneered at her.

“Wanted to make sure there was nothing you forgot to tell us.”

Honora shook her head, too tired and weak to be anything but defeated. Fortunately, that seemed to amuse the men.

“Will you send them today?”

“Maybe.”

The door shut, and the lock turned.

Honora stood in silence. Cecily began to fuss again. Honora went to her at once and lifted her. The baby curled into her chest. Honora held her tightly. She could faintly feel the child’s ribs beneath the thin fabric of her gown and closed her eyes.

Honora had spent two days believing she could do nothing. That was no longer true. She had given them information and names. And soon, those names would put people on the road.

She looked down at Cecily. “You hear that?” she asked. “Your grandfather and Leopold will help us.”

Cecily stared at her solemnly.

“Someone is coming.”

The baby reached for her face. Honora kissed her tiny fingers.

For the first time in days, she began to think there might be hope. Isolde had wanted her to disappear. The men downstairs wanted money. And money, unlike secrets, left a trail. Honora held Cecily close and stared at the locked door. Perhaps greed would save them. It was their only hope.

Chapter 23

Three days had passed since Honora left Belgrave. Leopold had stopped pretending he expected the silence to become easier. It had not. The nursery remained closed. He found himself passing through the corridor and looking toward the door before remembering there was no reason to open it. Cecily was gone.

So was Honora. He had no idea where they were, or if they were all right. And conveniently, Isolde had vanished. She had left the day Honora had been sent away, claiming a visit to a cousin. But Leopold knew better.

She had lied to him about Honora. And he was sure she had something to do with Honora and Cecily’s disappearance. The former was bad enough. But if his fears about the latter were true, she was downright sinister. That was something he could not abide.

He and Barnaby had spent the three days tracing the carriage route east. They had followed every likely road toward the Penmere properties and sent inquiries to inns, post houses, and stable yards. Nothing had been found.

Leopold had written to the magistrate, requesting support in locating Honora. He had not given the false name she had used, as he did not want to risk her being viewed as a criminal.

He simply said that she had served as a servant in his home, and had not been seen again since being dismissed from his estate. He wrote to the Earl of Penmere, though his letter was a bit less formal.

He explained that Honora and Cecily had been last entrusted to Isolde’s care, and had since disappeared. He made no accusation, as no matter how certain he was that Isolde was responsible for whatever had happened, he knew he had no proof.

And going to Isolde’s family with such grievous speculation and no evidence would be a bigger mistake than trusting Isolde had been. He was uncertain what response he had expecting or hoped for. But it did not matter. No response had come, and the lack of information was becoming intolerable.

He was in the study that afternoon when Mrs. Pritchard entered.

“Your Grace.”

Leopold looked up from the letter he had been rereading without absorbing. “What is it?”

“A letter just came for you.”

“Can it wait?”