Page 48 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

When Mrs. Pritchard arrived with breakfast, he realized how long he had been in the nursery—and how little he minded. She set the tray by the fire without comment, as if finding the duke there before breakfast had become ordinary, then left them to it with a tiny, knowing look.

Phoebe sat with Cecily on her lap and fed the child from a bowl of mashed porridge, pushing her own food aside without hesitation. Leopold wondered whether such care was remarkable or merely something a good nursemaid did without thinking.

When Phoebe looked up and caught him watching her so curiously, his gaze moved at once to the window. She said nothing. That, too, was becoming familiar.

Before he could give himself another reason to stay, he quickly rose from his seat.

“You are doing a wonderful job with Cecily, Miss Redmond.”

She blushed brilliantly, not meeting his gaze.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

To that, he simply nodded, turned, and left the nursery. And from the moment he did, he wanted nothing more than to go back to it.

By afternoon, the urge to return to the nursery had become difficult to ignore. He told himself he only wished to make certain Miss Redmond had eaten after abandoning her breakfast, but when he found Mrs. Pritchard leaning over the crib instead, his heart sank before he could stop it.

“Miss Redmond has gone to rest,” Mrs. Pritchard said, despite having never turned to see him in the doorway.

“To rest?” he echoed, disappointed rather than angry.

“She was terribly pale and touched her temple when she thought I was not looking,” Mrs. Pritchard said, with a look that made clear the matter was settled. “I sent her to lie down until she feels better.”

Leopold resisted the dull wave of concern that rose.

“If she was too unwell to care for Cecily today, she could have told me, and I would have seen to it that someone else took her for today.”

Mrs. Pritchard looked at him as if he had just said elephants could fly.

“Miss Redmond would sooner hold herself together with starch paste than to abandon her duties to the baby for a single day.”

Leopold nodded slowly, knowing the words were true as Mrs. Pritchard spoke them. He wondered if he should ask the cook to send up some chamomile tea or ginger biscuits to Miss Redmond’s chambers to help her feel better. But something else demanded his attention then.

Over the edge of the crib appeared a mass of dark curls, sleepy eyes, and a mouth screwed tight with effort. Cecily stood on wobbly legs, clutching the slats, then sputtered through pursed lips and smacked one hand against the crib with a delighted coo.

Mrs. Pritchard watched the interaction with the closest to surprise he had ever seen on her face.

“It seems she is happy to see you.”

Leopold nodded.

I am rather delighted to see her, as well, he thought.

“I should like to sit with her for a little while,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Pritchard asked, the surprise suddenly undeniable on her face.

He approached the crib, where Cecily was reaching for him urgently by the time he reached her.

“I know how you dislike being disrupted from your duties,” he said, knowing they both knew it was a paper-thin excuse. “I can sit with the baby until Miss Redmond is awake.”

The housekeeper stared at him for more than a full minute, looking bemused and thoughtful. Then, she nodded and walked to the door, glancing back only once before leaving without a word.

Before he knew it, he was lifting the baby, who clutched at his coat with obvious delight. She patted his face with one small open hand, then seized his nose with such concentration that he could not help laughing.

“Why do we not go find some far prettier things for you to pick and grab?” he asked.

The child, who could not possibly have understood his words, cooed again happily, as if she knew just what he meant. As silently as he could manage with the gurgling child, he slipped through the corridors, down the stairs, and out the back door that led to the short maze just ahead of his true destination.