Page 123 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

“Where is she?”

Honora stopped breathing.

Leopold.

He was there. He had gotten the letter and come for them.

She took one step toward the door, then another. A shout came from downstairs. Another answered. Something crashed. Cecily began to cry.

Honora backed away from the door. “It is all right, darling. I believe help has just arrived.”

The sounds of fighting grew louder, the crashing continuing for longer than before. Another man shouted. Then came the sharp crack of a gunshot.

Honora flinched. Cecily screamed. Honora held the child tightly, though her limbs were trembling violently. It was all she could do to keep them both upright. There was another shot and another shriek from Cecily, the latter resulting in a fierce coughing fit. Footsteps rushed across the floor below as Cecily gasped, coughing and sobbing between breaths.

The door opened suddenly. A young woman rushed inside, dressed in a simple, worn cook’s uniform. It occurred to Honora that the couple of times there had seemed to be extra bread or water, she must have been the one responsible. She looked at Honora, terrified.

“Miss!”

Honora stared at her. “What is happening?”

“The men downstairs.” The girl was breathing too quickly. “His Grace came with another gentleman. They are fighting.”

“Leopold?”

“I only heard them call him “Duke”.”

Another crash sounded below. The girl jumped, slamming the door behind her in the process. “He is there.”

Honora gripped Cecily tighter. “Is he hurt?”

“I do not know.” The girl looked toward the doorway. “There were shots.”

Honora’s face went white. She moved toward the door.

The maid caught her arm. “You cannot go down.”

“I have to.”

“No. Miss, you cannot.”

Honora looked at her. Cecily was crying against her shoulder.

There was another shout. Then silence. Not the expectant silence from before. The new silence felt complete and total, as if it knew there would not be another abrasive sound to shatter it.

Both women listened. There was nothing for what felt like an hour. No shouting, no footsteps, only Cecily’s crying and coughing.

Honora waited. One. Two. Three.

Then, footsteps sounded on the stairs. Slow. Heavy. Coming closer.

Honora’s hands began to shake, and the maid backed them toward the wall, putting her trembling body between Honora and Cecily, and whoever might come into the room.

Then the door opened, and the young maid gasped.

Leopold stood there. His coat was torn at the shoulder. There was blood on one sleeve. His hair was disordered. But he was standing.

Honora stared at him. He looked at her. Then at Cecily.