Page 102 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

“The woman who was meant for the position is not the woman who now works here.”

Leopold shook his head, the words not making sense. He looked at his mother, but Verity remained still and silent.

“Mother, you were the one who made the agency inquiry,” he said. “How could such a mistake have been made?”

“I do not know,” she said. “I assumed that our current nursemaid must have been from the agency, as it would be impossible for anyone outside Belgrave to know exactly when we began searching for someone to fill that position.”

Leopold shook his head again, running a hand through his hair.

“That is just the point,” he said. “If what you say is true, that must mean that someone with no knowledge of our need for a nursemaid arrived before even the rumors of such a search began. It would mean that someone would have to be psychic to know before it became public speculation.”

“Or someone would have had to know about Cecily before that,” his mother said.

Leopold stilled. He had considered that Phoebe’s knowledge might come from caring for another child—her niece, she had said—but his mother’s words gave the possibility a sharper and more troubling shape.

“You believe she knew Cecily before she came here?” he asked.

Isolde held up a paper. “I made several inquiries through my own connections in Wiltshire. The woman calling herself Miss Redmond is actually Honora Bellamy.”

Leopold’s stomach dropped. “Honora Bellamy.”

“Yes.”

“Who is she?”

“An unmarried woman from a failing gentry family in Wiltshire.”

Leopold said nothing.

Isolde’s voice remained calm. “She is twenty-six. Her family has been struggling financially. She has a sister who died several months ago.”

His eyes narrowed. “How do you know this?”

“I told you,” she said simply, not offering any further explanation.

What Isolde said made a bit of sense. But her demeanor raised just as much suspicion as Phoebe, or Honora, or whoever she was, had done the night before.

“Even if all this is true, what does this have to do with Cecily?” he asked, his frustration becoming apparent. “And what would be the point?”

She took a small step closer. “The child is hers.”

Leopold’s expression hardened. “No.”

Isolde did not flinch. “She is the baby’s mother.”

“That is impossible.”

“Is it?”

Leopold’s suspicion sharpened. “That child was abandoned by an uncaring, thoughtless soul. And no such person would return to care for the child they abandoned. It could not be more evident that Phoebe adores Cecily, and that she could never abandon her. I am sure we have all seen that.”

Isolde nodded.

“I am afraid it is true,” she said, her voice filled with carefully practiced sympathy. “She left the child on your doorstep herself.”

“No.”

“She wrapped the baby in your family shawl.”