Page 137 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

“He knew exactly what he had done.” She read the last page a second time before lowering the letter into her lap.

Leopold turned to face her fully.

“Yes.”

Honora nodded slowly, her eyes widening as if she had had a sudden revelation.

“In his own way, he kept Celestine alive the only way he ever knew how to.” She looked down at the paper again as she said it.

“What do you mean by that?” Leopold’s brow furrowed at the words.

“Through money,” she said, touching the letter lightly with two fingers, “and through distance.”

Leopold scoffed, feeling hurt and offended enough for the both of them.

“That was not enough, and I think you already know it was not.”

“No,” she agreed quietly. “It was not enough at all. But it was what he had to give, all things considered.”

“He chose cowardice, Honora. That is what this letter admits, in his own words.” Leopold stared at her for a long moment after he said it.

“Yes, it does.”

“And you are prepared to forgive him for that.”

“I did not say that I forgive him.” She glanced toward the crib before continuing. “Only that I understand. Far better than I did this morning, to be sure.”

“How can you understand a decision like that one?” Leopold’s expression shifted slightly as he asked it.

“Because I have spent weeks making my own decisions out of fear, the same as he did.” Honora took a slow breath before she said it.

Leopold looked at her carefully. There was no accusation in her expression, only calm compassion.

He admired her for that, not because she excused what his father had done, but because she could look directly at the worst part of a man and still recognize the person still living somewhere inside it. It was a skill Leopold had never managed to learn for himself, not once in his entire life.

“She seems to be doing better today,” Honora said, glancing toward the crib where Cecily had stirred faintly.

“Good,” Leopold said, moving a step closer to the crib to see for himself.

“You worry over her more than you let anyone see.”

“I was under the impression I hid it rather well.”

“You do not,” Honora said with a gentle smile. “Not from me.”

The room settled into a comfortable quiet. Honora still held the letter loosely in her lap, and neither of them moved to break the silence for a while.

Leopold looked at her. She looked back at him without looking away.

“You are looking at me strangely,” Honora said. His thoughts had already drifted well past the letter by then.

“I am aware.”

“Is there a reason?”

“Several.” His attention had drifted to her mouth, to the loose strand of auburn hair resting near her cheek, and to the fact that she seemed to have forgiven him, even after he had sent her away.

He stepped closer to her, and Honora did not move away. Slowly, he lifted one hand and touched her cheek. Her breath caught audibly, and for a second, neither of them moved at all. Then, he kissed her.