Page 39 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

He stared at her. “That is not an answer.”

“It is the only one you are getting.”

She turned before he could press him further, crossed to the door, and paused with her hand on the frame. “Leopold,” she said, without looking back, “do not assume you know what you are protecting.”

Then she left, shutting the door behind her.

The silence she left behind was heavy. Leopold remained where he was until the sound of her footsteps faded, one hand still braced against the edge of the desk.

His mother had warned him before, about tenants, creditors, unsuitable acquaintances, and every small social risk she believed might stain the Harcourt name. But she had never warned him like that.

Not with fear beneath the command.

He looked toward the closed door, then back at the papers on his desk.

For the first time, he wondered whether the question was not simply where Cecily had come from, but who already knew the answer.

***

That evening, Barnaby ruined that by appearing in the study with a chessboard under one arm and a look of calm intent that meant he intended to annoy Leopold until either the game or the night was over.

“Your mother seems to be in quite a mood,” Barnaby said, seating himself across from the desk.

Leopold glanced up from a memorandum. “Does she?”

Barnaby nodded emphatically.

“She moves about with the air of a woman who had discovered an outbreak of stupidity and blamed you for it.”

Leopold set the memorandum aside. “That narrows down nothing.”

Barnaby smiled faintly as he arranged the pieces. “She is fond of you in her own alarming way.”

“That is not reassuring.”

“No, but it is true.”

They played in silence for several moves.

Leopold lost his bishop early.

He stared at the board. “That was careless.”

Barnaby’s eyes did not lift. “You have been careless this whole game.”

Leopold moved a knight. “I have not.”

“You have.”

Leopold looked at him. “About what, exactly?”

Barnaby made his next move and then folded his hands. “Your mother said something to you this afternoon that you are still turning over.”

Leopold’s expression sharpened. “You are observant.”

“I am bored. It helps.” He grinned, as if revealing some grand illusion trick. “And with her mood considered alongside your distraction, it is not difficult.”

Leopold sat back in his chair. “She said I may not like the answer when I find out where the baby came from.”