Page 41 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

Leopold frowned. “From whom?”

Mrs. Pritchard glanced down at the top sheet. “Mr. Bellamy.”

That name landed oddly, though it was not immediately familiar.

Leopold straightened. “Bellamy?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Barnaby’s eyes flicked to Leopold’s face. “Do you know him?”

“I do not believe so.”

Mrs. Pritchard set the tray on the side table. “He asks after a young woman who may have traveled to this part of the county.”

Leopold looked at the letter. “A young woman.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Did he say who?”

“No.”

“Or where from?”

“No.”

Barnaby leaned back in his chair and folded one leg over the other. “That sounds promising.”

Leopold ignored him and took up the letter. The handwriting was respectable, firm, and practical. Nothing flamboyant.

Nothing urgent enough to suggest panic, though there was an edge in the phrasing that told him the writer had reasons to care. He read quickly. It was a simple inquiry. A request for information. An expression of concern over a young woman who had traveled unexpectedly and might have come to this part of the county. Nothing more.

Leopold set it down. “A father looking for a runaway daughter, most likely.”

Barnaby’s eyes remained on him. “Most likely.”

Leopold glanced back at the board, then at the post tray. “It is not my concern.”

Barnaby said nothing.

Leopold picked the letter up again, skimmed it one more time, and then set it back on the tray with the rest of the post.

Barnaby studied the board, then moved his queen.

“Checkmate,” he said, sitting back with quiet satisfaction.

Leopold stared at the board. It was the first time Barnaby had ever checkmated him. Normally, he would have been in utter disbelief. But right then, all he could think about was how his life was becoming stranger and more baffling every day. And all the mystery and confusion seemed to revolve around a baby and a secretive nursemaid.

Chapter 8

After the meeting with the duke, and the hard, cold expression on the dowager’s face when she interrupted the meeting, Honora felt as though the house was suddenly too small. She took Cecily to the east garden for air.

It was not truly warm, but the wind had eased, and the morning light had a pale, clean look to it that made the bare branches less severe. Cecily sat on Honora’s hip at first and then, once they reached the garden path, was set down on the blanket Honora had brought with her. The baby immediately seized a clump of grass and tried to eat it.

Honora caught her hand gently. “No.”

Cecily frowned at her, offended by the interruption.