Page 124 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

The baby, still sobbing and rasping, hesitated to turn around. Honora rubbed her back, turning her body just enough so that Cecily could see Leopold if she lifted her head.

“Cecily, darling,” Leopold said in the softest, gentlest voice Honora had ever heard.

Cecily timidly lifted her head, her eyes quickly finding Leopold. She sniffed and rubbed frustratedly at her eyes. Then, she reached a tiny hand out for him and wailed, as if she understood what Honora did: that they were finally safe.

“Da,” she said, softly and broken by tears.

Leopold crossed the room immediately. He took Cecily from Honora’s arms and held her against his chest. The baby clung to him, crying softly. He closed his eyes for one brief second. Then, he looked at Honora. She could not stop herself and began to cry. Not quietly, not neatly, the tears coming with everything she had been holding in for days.

Leopold reached for her. His free arm went around her shoulders. Honora stepped into him. He held her tightly. Then, he lowered his head and kissed her hair. She cried against his coat.

For a long moment none of them moved. Cecily was between them. Leopold held the baby with one arm and Honora with the other.

“Are you hurt?” Leopold asked, the tension in his voice threatening menace if Honora said she was.

Honora shook her head. “No.”

He looked at the baby. “What about her?”

“She has a nasty cough.”

He nodded, his gaze sweeping the bare room and returning at once to Honora and Cecily.

Leopold held Honora a moment longer. Then he stepped back. “We are going home.”

Honora nodded. Her legs felt weak.

Home.

She had not expected to hear Belgrave referred to as her home again. But right then, she was too tired and grateful to question him.

Downstairs, Barnaby was waiting. The rest of the house was trashed but empty, the men taken into custody, the local authorities already on their way. In the open light, Honora could see a small cut along Leopold’s cheek and another on his hand. Neither seemed too serious, though Honora noticed the way he flexed his fingers.

She said nothing until they were in the carriage. Then she took his injured hand. “You are bleeding.”

He looked at her. “It is nothing.”

“That is what men say when they do not want to be fussed over.”

His mouth twitched. “I am beginning to understand why Martha likes you.”

Honora cleaned the cut as carefully as she could. “How did you find us?”

“Your father.”

Honora stopped. “My father?”

“He came to Belgrave.” She stared at him. “With the same ransom letter that I received.”

Honora lowered her eyes to his hand.

“The men told me they were going to send those letters to you both,” she said quietly. “I was just beginning to worry that they might not truly do it and neither of you would ever know where we were or what happened to us.”

Leopold swallowed, his composure seemingly fractured. He breathed slowly until he appeared to trust himself to speak again.

“Your father told me everything.”

She looked up. “What does that mean?”