Page 131 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

Leopold watched her go with a small smile. Sabina had long been a dear friend. But he had not expected even her to act so quickly to help him. After a moment, he looked at Barnaby with a question that died on his lips when he noticed Barnaby staring at the empty doorway with a dreamy smile on his face.

“You did not look away,” Leopold said.

Barnaby’s expression was perfectly innocent. “From what?”

“A single move Sabina made.”

Barnaby’s cheeks pinkened as Sabina’s had. “You need a rest. Or a drink.”

Leopold shook his head. “You know perfectly well what I am talking about. I am not going to argue the obvious with you.”

“You started it.”

“I regret it already.”

***

The first edition of The Morning Post arrived the following morning, carried in with the rest of the post and set on the breakfast table as though it were an ordinary day.

Both versions had run. They sat one above the other on the same page, so close that people could take in the whole of it without turning their heads.

There was the tale of a duke acknowledging his late father’s hidden daughter. Beneath it was the story of a woman who had entered that same duke’s household under a false name. Both were true, but only one of them was the whole truth. And he prayed that with his words and Sabina’s rallying, they could prove which one that was.

Chapter 26

Cecily’s cough was worse by the following morning. Honora had noticed it in the night, a rough, wet sound that woke her twice before dawn.

By the time the light illuminated the room properly through the nursery curtains, the baby’s gurgles sounded raspy, as if her throat ached. Honora sat up in the chair beside the crib, where she had fallen asleep sometime after the second waking, and lifted Cecily against her shoulder.

“There now.”

Cecily coughed again, then burrowed her face into Honora’s neck. The sound of it went straight through her. Four days in that room, she thought, and could not finish it properly. The rest involved the cold and the damp and the bread that had never been enough. She had not yet found a way to think about it without her hands beginning to shake. Instead, she focused every thought on Cecily. She recalled how Leopold had insisted that Honora should have spoken up about needing a physician sooner the last time Cecily was ill. She quickly stepped out into the hall, gently bouncing the wheezing child until a maid approached.

“Please, let His Grace know we need the physician,” she said.

The maid’s eyes widened when Cecily coughed again and nodded, hurrying away without a word. Cecily tried to cry, but a fit of coughing racked her tiny body, and she could barely catch her breath.

Weak, gasping whimpers were all the child could manage to express her misery, and Honora’s heart sank into her stomach. She had never seen Cecily so ill, and she was beginning to fear for the baby.

Leopold arrived before the physician did. He came into the nursery still in his riding coat, which was wrinkled and crooked. He looked as though he had heard the news while riding and had flown off the horse rather than dismounting properly and raced the whole way to the nursery.

“How is she?”

“Worse than yesterday.” Honora turned Cecily so he could see her.

He touched the back of his fingers to the baby’s forehead, the same gesture he had made the night of the fever. “Warm.”

“Not as warm as before.”

“It is warmer than if she was well.”

“Yes. I am worried sick.”

Leopold gave her a nod.

“The physician will help her. She will be all right.”

She gave him a weak smile. I must believe that is true, she thought as tears filled her eyes. She had been terrified that she and Cecily were going to die in that cold, wet room. Now, she was afraid the conditions of that room were not finished taking their toll on the baby.