Page 135 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

“What do you remember?”

Wilfred did not answer immediately. The corridor stayed quiet around the two of them, and somewhere downstairs a door closed softly, as though the house itself were waiting to hear what he would say.

“Her Grace labored through most of the night,” he said at last.

Leopold listened without moving.

“The physician arrived at dawn.” A pause followed, longer than the first. “When the child was finally born, the room went quiet.”

“Quiet?” Leopold frowned at the word.

“Not from relief, Your Grace.” Wilfred let that sit between them without softening it.

“What happened after that?” Leopold watched him carefully as he waited for an answer.

“The late duke came to the servants’ hall three days later.”

“Why?”

“To address the senior staff directly.” Wilfred shifted the linens against his chest as he spoke. “He told us the child had been sent to a family in the country for the sake of her health.”

“Her health.” Leopold’s jaw tensed around the words.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“And he instructed you not to speak of it.”

“He said the matter was to remain private, and that it was not our place to discuss it further.” Wilfred’s expression stayed perfectly solemn. Yet his eyes, though steadfast in resolve, now reflected guilt and remorse.

“How many people knew?”

“All of the senior staff, I should think, though I could not say with certainty.”

“And none of you ever said anything.”

“No, Your Grace.”

“For thirty years.”

“Yes.”

A cold knot formed in Leopold’s chest. He understood fear well enough, and he understood obedience better than most men his age. What he could not fully grasp was thirty years of a household holding its collective tongue about something so life altering.

“Why did you not say anything when the basket arrived on the front steps?”

“All the servants were very loyal to your parents,” Wilfred said sheepishly. “We were sworn to secrecy, and even as I stared at the child, I felt I could not break that secrecy.”

“How did you know the child was connected to this secret?”

“The shawl, Your Grace.” Wilfred’s eyes dropped briefly to the linens in his arms as he said it. “I saw it the moment I looked into the basket.”

“And you knew.”

“I knew what it was, though not at first who the child was.” Wilfred drew a slow breath. “I think I believed it must have been a coincidence at first.”

“And you waited for my mother to speak first.”

“It was hers to tell, not mine.”