Page 4 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

Wilfred, who appeared to have recovered his entire composure by force of will, said, “Yes, my lord.”

Leopold looked down at the baby in his arms. “And she does not seem inclined to let go.”

“No, my lord.”

Leopold glanced at the basket, then back at the child, then at the open door behind him. “This is ridiculous.”

The baby tightened her grip.

Leopold huffed a laugh despite himself, though it sounded thin even to his own ears. “You see? Ridiculous.”

Wilfred’s expression remained carefully neutral. “Shall I send for Mrs. Pritchard?”

“No, not yet.”

“She will want to know.”

“I am aware of that.”

“And the nursery—”

“I said not yet.”

Wilfred bowed his head slightly. “Very good, my lord.”

Leopold looked down again. The baby was still watching him. Her lashes were dark against her cheeks, and one of her tiny hands had found the button at his collar and was now exploring it with single-minded purpose.

He had no idea what to do with children. None. That had never been part of his education, and his mother had certainly not spent any time teaching him to manage infants. His father would have considered such knowledge beneath the dignity of a duke.

His father had also, Leopold thought grimly, considered affection a weakness and silence a virtue. It had not made either of them happier.

The baby gave a little babble and patted his shirtfront as though she found him to be satisfactory.

Leopold stared down at her. “You have the advantage of me.”

She yawned.

Then, with complete trust in the world, she tucked her face against his shoulder.

Leopold stood motionless, abruptly aware of every fragile ounce of the child against his shoulder.

Something strange and unwelcome moved in his chest, more irritating than fear because it had a human shape to it.

He said, very quietly, “Well, this is inconvenient.”

“She does not seem to agree,” Wilfred said.

Leopold glanced at him. “You are enjoying this.”

“No, my lord.”

“You are.”

Wilfred’s face remained calm, but his eyes had that faint, dangerous shine they got when he was trying not to show amusement. “I would not presume.”

Leopold looked back toward the drive. No carriage. No footman running up the lane. No mother in tears. No explanation. Only the frost, the bare hedges, and a basket on his front step like a challenge.

“How long has she been there?” he asked.