Page 127 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

He expressed his genuine remorse, but told the earl that Honora and Cecily deserved retribution for the atrocities they had suffered. His heart ached when he thought about how thin and frail they had looked when he had found them, and how sickly Cecily had been.

I will see that justice is served, he thought as he signed his name.

When he finished, he folded the letter and sealed it. He knew his guilt and remorse would linger. But he also knew he was doing the right thing. He prayed the earl would not be ostracized for his daughter’s actions. The only person who deserved to be punished was Isolde.

The third letter was for his solicitor. That one took the longest.

Mr. Hallett,

I write to instruct you on a matter that will require both discretion and speed. You are to prepare a public statement for The Morning Post, to be issued over my name and under your seal. Its contents are as follows.

First. The infant presently residing at Belgrave, known as Cecily, is to be acknowledged as a Belgrave by blood. She is my niece. This is not a courtesy extended to a foundling, nor an act of charity on the part of this house, and the statement must leave no room for either reading. She is family, and she is to be named and treated as such henceforth.

Second. Miss Honora Bellamy is to be named as the child’s aunt and as her nearest surviving relation on her mother’s side. You will have heard, or will shortly hear, that Miss Bellamy entered my household under a name not her own. That is true. This statement is not to deny it. What the statement must make plain is that she did so in order to remain near the child, and that every other account of her conduct now circulating is false. Miss Bellamy is not the child’s mother, as the claims state. I want that point to be made perfectly clear, as well.

Third, and most difficult. Celestine Bellamy, recently deceased, was born at Belgrave to my father and mother. She was my sister. She was removed from this house three days after her birth and raised in Wiltshire under an arrangement my father maintained by private payment for the remainder of his life. I have the birth record in my possession and will furnish you with a copy under separate cover.

You will wish to advise me against the third item. I expect it, and I have considered the objection already. The family has spent thirty years protecting a secret at the cost of the person it was kept from, and I do not intend to spend a further thirty years protecting the reputation of men who are past caring what is said of them. My sister existed. She will be named. And Miss Bellamy will be absolved of any wrongdoing in the entire situation.

A version of these events will shortly appear that is composed entirely of true particulars arranged to produce a falsehood. Ours must be the fuller account, and it must be the one that arrives with a record behind it. Facts alone will not answer. Facts in the proper order will.

Draft it plainly. I want no ornament in it and no appeal to sympathy. Send the draft to me before it goes further and be quick about it.

I remain,

The Duke of Belgrave

The words looked strange once written.

My sister.

He had spent years believing himself to be an only child. Now, there was a name attached to the empty space in his family’s history, and she had been dead for three months before he ever knew she existed.

Leopold set down the pen thoughtfully. He never could have imagined that his parents could keep such a secret from him. Even though he had never met Celestine, he felt grief.

He would have grown up with a sibling, which was something he had often thought about in his youth. He would have loved her fiercely and protected her against any of the judgments society might have passed on her.

She might even still be alive, if she had been able to live the life that had been her birthright. Honora might not be grieving the sister she had known and clearly loved deeply. And he might not be left longing for the sibling relationship he was robbed of. But he would never know, and all because of a vain, selfish decision his parents made.

Barnaby had entered at some point without his noticing. He stood near the window holding a cup of tea, reading one of the letters in silence.

“You missed breakfast,” Barnaby said.

Leopold looked up. “When did you take that?”

“While you were staring through the bookshelf with a look of pure anger.”

“Thank you for helping yourself to the letters instead of seeing if all was well,” Leopold said dryly, but with no genuine irritation.

Barnaby crossed the room and took the first letter. He read it, set it aside, and picked up the second.

“You have been restrained.”

Leopold gave him a tired look. “I was tempted to be less so.”

“One certainly could not have blamed you if you were not.” Barnaby moved to the third and read it more slowly. “This will be in the paper tomorrow.”

“Yes. She left the Alton house before we arrived. We have people looking for her, but she is believed to be in London.”