Page 56 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

Honora’s throat tightened. She did not trust herself to give an answer. Martha did not seem to expect one. She only sat, her hands wrapped around her cup, and let the silence linger between them.

Martha did not ask any more questions, and Honora was grateful for exactly that. It felt as though she had finally been able to talk about something that hurt her without fear of being discovered as a fraud. She did not realize how much she had needed that until right then.

Martha gave Honora a long enough pause to let the words settle, then rose and crossed to the stove. “You should eat more than that.”

Honora looked down at the cup. “I am not finished.”

Martha snorted once. “And I know that you will not eat anything unless practically forced.”

Honora smiled despite herself.

Then Mrs. Pritchard appeared in the doorway, one hand braced lightly against the frame. “Martha.”

She turned. “Yes?”

“His Grace wishes for me to discuss the menu for the next week with you.”

Martha groaned faintly as if this were an expected burden and not an interruption. She set her cup down, then looked at Honora. “You may stay if you like.”

Honora shook her head. “I should return to Cecily.”

Martha scowled at Honora’s teacup and lack of food, but she merely nodded, following Mrs. Pritchard toward the back of the kitchen.

Honora went back upstairs. She was sure Cecily would be asleep, but she wanted to ensure that she was not too hot or too cold before she retired. The brief conversation with Martha was still fresh in her mind.

It surprised her how much lighter she felt just after the little bit she had confessed to the cook. She was still thinking about that when she heard voices in the corridor just around the corner from the nursery.

Honora paused. One of the voices was male and muffled, though it sounded like Wilfred. The other one, she recognized at once: the dowager. Her voice carried clearly through the corridor.

“Tell the orphanage I am asking on behalf of the household,” she said. “Ask whether they can take in a baby of one year old. Discreetly.”

Honora went cold.

There was a small pause before Wilfred’s quiet reply, though she could not hear the words distinctly.

The dowager spoke again, sharp and controlled. “Secrecy matters, inside this household and in public. Make certain they understand that.”

Honora closed the door at once.

She stood in the dark with one hand on the wall, her heart beating too quickly.

The orphanage. A baby of one year old. Secrecy.

For a moment she could not move. Then she stepped back, looked toward the nursery, and realized with a strange, sinking clarity that her plan was no longer the only thing in the house trying to move Cecily out of it. And that if she did not leave with Cecily, she might be taken to some place where Honora might never see her again.

Chapter 11

Leopold did not sleep restfully after watching Miss Redmond sing to Cecily, his dreams were peppered with the recollection of catching the two of them just before they slipped down the bank and holding the nursemaid inappropriately close to him. That made it very difficult to have to spend the following morning with his mother reviewing estate accounts.

He had not thought of making a habit of mornings spent with his mother encroaching on his work, but his mother had a way of arriving at the study as though she always had an invitation.

That morning, she was sitting opposite him at the desk with one ledger open and another balanced against the arm of her chair, her spectacles low on her nose and her expression set in the severe calm she used whenever she meant to challenge him without appearing to.

Leopold turned a page. “The tenants on the south boundary are in better order than last quarter.”

“Hmm.”

“That is approval, I assume.”