Page 61 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

It was a look he recognized from his own reflection that day, a look that said she was thinking about something she did not want but did not know if she had the freedom to choose. They looked at one another in strange but not uncomfortable silence. It was not dramatic. Not even particularly wise. It was only a pause in the night, a stillness between two people who were indulging in an intimacy that was peculiar for their differences in station, yet neither of them seemed to mind.

Leopold became aware of the way she held herself as if ready to move closer and the way he had not moved away.

Then Barnaby called his name from inside.

“Leopold?”

The spell broke at once.

Phoebe looked back toward the library doors. Leopold drew in breath, realizing he had not been breathing.

Barnaby called again, this time with more impatience. “If you have vanished into the dark, I should like to know before I begin searching the house.”

Leopold shut his eyes briefly and then opened them again.

“You should answer him,” she said, clearly recovering more quickly than he had.

Leopold turned toward the doors. “I am apparently needed.”

“So I hear.”

He looked back at her once more, but the moment had already moved on. Whatever hung between them on the terrace had gone thin and uncertain, out of reach. Leopold was surprised by how disappointed he was over it as he walked away.

Leopold stepped inside and found Barnaby in the corridor with two glasses and a look of mild suspicion.

“You were gone long enough to be rude,” Barnaby said.

Leopold took one of the glasses. “I was on the terrace.”

“With Miss Redmond.”

Leopold drank a little and said nothing.

Barnaby’s expression sharpened. “Ah.”

Leopold looked at him, motioning for his friend to follow him. “Do not start.”

“I had no intention of starting anything, only observing.”

“That was still too much.”

When they reached the study, Barnaby handed him the second glass. “Your mother has been making observations too, in case you were wondering.”

Leopold frowned. “She spoke to me this morning.”

“About London?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Leopold looked at the fire and then back at him. “She wants me to think about Lady Isolde Carrington.”

Barnaby’s brows rose. “Lady Isolde?”

“Daughter of the Earl of Penmere.”

Barnaby let out a low breath that sounded almost like a laugh. “That sounds like a solution your mother would come up with.”