Page 33 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

The cake was yellow and sweet, with currants through it and a crisp sugared top. It smelled of butter and nutmeg. Honora had not realized, until Martha set it before her, how quickly hunger could appear when it was offered something sweet.

Cecily was still asleep in her crib. Honora set the cake aside for later and ate while Martha pretended not to watch. As Honora finally reached for the cake, Martha took the bowl of panada, glancing at the sleeping child.

“I will return in a little while with a fresh bowl,” she said. “It would not do to let the little one eat an ice-cold meal when she is finally ready to wake up.”

Honora smiled warmly at the woman, who pretended not to notice that, as well.

“That is kind of you,” she said.

***

Cecily slept until early afternoon. Her mood had only improved a little, though Honora found it easier to distract her than it had been during the night. Honora was standing at the window with Cecily on her hip and pointing out birds and trees to the infant when movement in the doorway caught Honora’s attention.

She turned with a smile, expecting to see Martha again, but her smile quickly stiffened. Lady Belgrave stood in the doorway, watching the two of them with a calm but cold expression. There was a long silence as the duchess stared at them and Honora fumbled for words.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” she said at last, feeling as though her mouth was filled with cotton.

Cecily craned her head to look toward the door. But when she saw the duchess, whom Honora knew Cecily had not seen much, if at all, the infant grunted sharply and buried her face in Honora’s shoulder. The duchess looked at Cecily for so long that Honora began to feel the silence. Cecily, warm against her shoulder, tucked her face closer into Honora’s neck.

Honora tried to keep herself calm, as much for the sake of appearances in front of the dowager as for Cecily’s sake. But the intensity in Lady Belgrave’s gaze made Honora’s blood feel as though it had a direct link to pond water in winter. Should she say something? Or should she wait for the dowager duchess to speak first?

“How long have you worked with children?” the dowager asked after what felt like hours of silence.

The question was delivered with a pointedness Honora did not like.

She kept her voice level. “Several years, Your Grace.”

The dowager did not look away from Cecily as she nodded ever so slowly. “Where?”

Honora had expected that question. She had already given Leopold an answer. She could give it again.

“In Wiltshire.”

The dowager turned her head just enough to look at her then. “Where in Wiltshire?”

Honora met her gaze and held it. “In several houses.”

Lady Belgrave’s eyes narrowed, but in a way that Honora was uncertain that it was meant to be noticed.

“I know some people from there,” the dowager said. “They would not have had children young enough to need a nursemaid. I was merely curious whether you might have met them.”

“I did not spend much time out of the homes of my employers,” Honora said, trying her best not to speak too quickly or nervously. “In fact, I never ran any errands, even for the children. That was the duty of the housekeeper and footmen.”

The dowager gave that slow nod again, and Honora was certain she did not believe her. She looked at Honora, then at Cecily once more, and left without another word.

Only then did Honora breathe out.

“She knows something,” Honora whispered once the door had closed.

Cecily only clutched her sleeve.

“Or she thinks she does. I cannot decide which is worse.” Cecily squirmed and fussed against her. Honora lowered her voice and murmured nonsense until the child settled again, but the alarm beneath her skin kept beating long after she ordered herself calm.

By evening, Honora was exhausted, and Cecily had worn herself out again. Honora changed her, soothed her through one last fit of chewing and tears, and waited beside the crib until the child’s breathing steadied.

When she finally went downstairs, she moved carefully, expecting at any turn to meet the dowager again. The house gave her only shadows, closed doors, and the faint clatter of the kitchen below.

The kitchen was warm and smelled faintly of bread, onions, and tea. Martha was at the table with a cup in front of her and a pile of folded cloths to one side. She looked up as Honora came in and gave a small nod, as if she had expected her.