Page 44 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

“I always enjoy theatrics,” Sabina said. “From men, especially.”

“I have been known to possess a fondness for theatrics myself,” Barnaby said proudly.

Leopold looked as though he might have several responses to his friend and the young lady. But when Cecily began to stir, his eyes left the pair and turned to her, and he began speaking to her softly.

Sabina shifted her attention back to Barnaby for one last assessing look and then gave her horse a light nudge. “Well. I have seen enough. Carry on with your foundling and your mystery.” She grinned at Leopold. “Try not to scandalize the county too much without warning the rest of us.”

Then she rode on.

Honora watched her disappear around the wall.

Barnaby followed her with his eyes a moment longer than was necessary.

Leopold noticed. Honora saw that too. At last, the interaction made sense to her. The viscount was smitten with Miss Montrose. And with the pink in her cheeks and the way she had laughed when Barnaby spoke, Honora thought she was smitten with him, as well.

The silence that followed felt slightly off. Cecily stirred against Leopold’s shoulder again and began her fussy grunting. Honora knew it was only a matter of minutes before she became nearly inconsolable.

Honora stepped forward at once. “She needs her nap.”

Leopold looked down. “Is she refusing to sleep?”

“Only if she thinks the world is more interesting than it ought to be.”

Barnaby gave a quiet snort. “That seems a reasonable complaint.”

Cecily tugged at Leopold’s collar and then buried her face against his shoulder again.

“I should take her back,” Honora said.

Leopold hesitated only long enough to adjust his grip, then handed the baby back with care. Honora pressed a kiss to her hair and looked down at her. Leopold’s gaze lingered on the pair of them for a second longer than he likely intended. With a silent nod, Honora cradled Cecily gently to her and took her swiftly up to the nursery.

Once she got Cecily inside and put her to bed, she started toward the kitchen for something to eat because she had not had enough breakfast and her stomach had begun to protest. She reached the side passage just as a knock sounded at the servants’ entrance.

Honora stopped. No one else seemed near. The kitchen maid had gone out to the yard. Martha was in the scullery, or so Honora believed. She hesitated, then crossed to the door and opened it.

A woman stood outside with a travel bag in one hand and a letter in the other. She squinted, noticing that the letterhead looked remarkably similar to that of the letter the duke received from the employment agency. Honora went cold.

The woman on the threshold was not dressed in service clothes. She looked weary from travel, but composed, with the sort of plain competence that would have fit any number of households. Her hair was neatly pinned. Her boots were dusty. She held the agency letter as if it had brought her here and expected that to be enough.

She looked at Honora. Honora looked at her. For one breathless moment neither of them spoke.

“I believe my arrival is expected,” she said, far too loudly in Honora’s opinion. “My name is Phoebe Redmond, and I came to discuss the nursemaid position.”

Honora’s mind snapped into place with terrible speed.

She stepped outside at once and shut the door behind her before anyone inside the kitchen could hear. The woman’s gaze flicked to the door and then back to Honora’s face.

“You do not belong here,” she said too sharply. She cleared her throat and gave the woman a tense smile. “That is, I have taken the position.”

The woman frowned slightly. “The agency said I was to arrive a few days ago. I would have been, but it seems the letter got delayed. They said the Duke and Dowager Duchess of Belgrave were expecting me”

Her heart sank. The problem she had taught herself to believe would never arise stood before her, looking confused, tired, and determined to secure the position she had applied for. The position that is rightfully hers…Honora thought.

Honora kept her face still. She had approximately two minutes to resolve this.

“I am afraid there has been a mix-up,” she said.

The woman looked unconvinced. “A mix-up?”