Page 49 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

The day was cool but clear, and the path was dry underfoot. He had just reached the entrance to the gardens when Cecily leaned over and grabbed a fistful of leaves from a willow tree with great solemnity. After careful examination, she held it out to him. Leopold looked at the grass, then at her, then accepted it with equal gravity.

He held the grass carefully in one hand. “Thank you.”

She kicked once, satisfied.

Leopold looked at her. “Do you intend to make a career of this?”

Cecily babbled in what sounded like agreement.

He went on walking, carrying her along the side of the garden. “I suppose you have questions.”

The baby blinked at him.

“Yes,” he said. “You may as well. Where did you come from? Who brought you? Why were you left on my doorstep in a basket, as though I were some manner of charitable institution?” He paused. “Or perhaps I am the only one with questions.”

Cecily reached for his collar and patted it. It was difficult for Leopold not to take the gesture as one of comfort.

Leopold glanced at her. “That is a very calm response.”

She grinned at him.

He huffed out a quiet breath, a brilliant smile stretching his face unfamiliarly before he could stop it. “You are no help at all.”

The baby gurgled at him again.

“And what of your nursemaid?” he asked. “Why does she behave as though she has known you your entire life?”

The child’s brows furrowed, insofar as such a young child’s brows could, as though she were considering the matter deeply.

“Ahnana,” she said, kicking both her feet so hard he nearly dropped her. “A ahnana.”

Leopold’s eyes widened.

“Are you trying to speak?” he asked, alarmed because he did not know what to do and absurdly pleased because she had chosen him as her audience.

“A ahnana,” she said, though he had no idea what the girl meant to say.

The girl squealed and bounced in his arms, and he was thankful he had tightened his grip after her first fierce kick. Whatever those syllables meant to the child clearly made her happier than he had ever seen her.

He made a note to tell Miss Redmond when he saw her next. Perhaps she would know what it meant, or if it was just something all young children said when learning to speak.

He had almost reached the lower boundary of the lawn when Barnaby fell into step beside him. There was a long silence, during which Barnaby asked many questions with his eyes while his lips twitched with sheer amusement, as though there was much he was forcing them to not say.

“How are things going with the nursemaid?” Barnaby finally asked.

Leopold kept walking. “She is good with Cecily.”

Barnaby nodded once. “Then why are you out here with the child instead of her?”

Leopold thought it over. It was not his place to speak on Miss Redmond, even if it was something as simple as a megrim.

“She is resting,” he said. “Cecily saw me when I went to check in on them around lunch and would not settle until I went to her. I thought fresh air might do her good.”

Barnaby nodded, the expression on his face almost as knowing and telling as that on Mrs. Pritchard’s had been.

Barnaby nodded, but said nothing else on the subject, which Leopold appreciated more than he intended to show.

Leopold blushed. “I only mean to do a kindness for a servant.”