Page 95 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

A little before dawn, Cecily stirred. Leopold felt it immediately. Her skin was cooler. He touched her forehead. The fever had broken. For the first time that night, Leopold allowed himself a proper full, deep breath of relief. He looked toward Phoebe, who was still asleep against his shoulder. He shifted carefully, not wanting to wake her.

Cecily’s fever was gone. Phoebe’s explanation of the compresses ought to have settled his doubts, and for a time it nearly had. Yet another detail returned now, unwelcome and insistent.

Before. With her niece. That was the answer Phoebe had given him, and grief had plainly made the subject painful. Still, the ease with which she understood Cecily, and Cecily understood her, left him with the uneasy sense that the explanation was true without being complete.

He looked at the woman asleep beside the crib. Perhaps Cecily merely resembled the niece Phoebe had lost; perhaps loving one child had taught her how to comfort another. Leopold wanted to accept that.

He found, however, that he could not entirely silence the question of why Cecily reached for her as though she had always known her.

Chapter 18

Honora woke with a blanket over her shoulders and her cheek resting against the edge of the crib. For a moment, she did not remember falling asleep, or how she had ended up back in the nursery.

Then, the events of the night returned all at once: Cecily, the fever, Leopold on the nursery floor, the physician’s instructions, the long hours of walking and waiting, and Leopold taking turns trying to soothe Cecily.

She had thought little of it in the moment, as she had been unable to think of anything other than Cecily. But right then, the memory of Leopold’s kindness and worry made her pause.

Had she imagined the warmth and concern he had shown for her, as well as Cecily? Had he been worried about her, as well, or was she reading too much into his concern for the baby?

Honora pushed herself upright, blinking against the pale morning light. Cecily was awake, and, judging by the way she was kicking both legs against the mattress, entirely recovered from the night’s drama.

Honora stared at her. “You are determined to frighten me to death.” Leopold and I both, she added silently with a soft smile at the memory of the two of them caring for the ailing baby together.

Her next thought was dismissed before it could fully form. But for a second, she wildly imagined the three of them as a family, with Leopold and her soothing Cecily through an illness as a mother and father figure.

Cecily answered with a delighted noise and reached for the nearest blanket. Honora laughed softly, the sound mostly relief. She leaned over the crib and touched the baby’s forehead, though she already knew what to expect.

Cool. She checked again, because she had spent the night frightened enough to distrust anything that looked too easy. Still cool.

Cecily caught her finger and held it. Honora closed her eyes briefly. “Thank God.” She had not meant to say it aloud.

Cecily let go of her finger and immediately tried to pull herself upright.

Honora caught her around the waist. “No. You have done enough.”

Cecily objected. Honora smiled despite herself. The blanket around her shoulders slipped, and she caught it before it fell.

Someone had covered her. She remembered sitting against the crib but not the moment the blanket had been placed around her, and she suspected she knew who had done it; the thought alone making her heart skip oddly. It could have been Mrs. Pritchard, sometime after Leopold had gone. Since she did not know how long he had stayed, she was prepared to assume that was the case.

But again, she thought about the way he had looked at her: tired, but worried, and with completely unguarded warmth and affection. Surely, that had only been for Cecily. Had it not?

Honora’s hand rested on the crib rail. She thought about his shoulder beneath her cheek, about the way he had stayed, not because he had been required to, but because he had wanted to make certain Cecily was safe.

The memory made her chest ache. Even if his worry had only been for the baby, his actions had still been selfless and compassionate, and they filled her with strange longing. She pushed the thoughts away and turned back to the baby.

“Breakfast first,” she said.

Cecily babbled as she began gnawing on the fabric in her hands.

“Yes, I know. A terrible idea. You would much rather eat the blanket.”

The child gave her another muffled babble and a laugh. Honora laughed again, as well.

As she was preparing to pull the cord to call for breakfast for Cecily, the nursery door opened. Honora straightened. Leopold stood there.

He looked tired. Not as tired as he had hours ago, but enough that she could see the night had left its mark. His hair was untidy, and there was a faint shadow beneath his eyes. He wore a dark coat, already dressed for the day, though the knot of his cravat looked as if it had been done without much attention.

His gaze went immediately to Cecily. “How is she?”