Page 144 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

Leopold nodded, taking a deep breath. Full of surprises, indeed, he thought.

“Very well,” he said.

Honora gave him a sad smile.

“I will give you some privacy. I suspect you may need it.”

With that, and before he could stop her, Honora left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Leopold remained still for several seconds before he finally opened the letter. It was very similar to the one his father had written, explaining the decision to send her to the Bellamy family and the reason they chose to do so.

It even detailed the night Celestine was born, and the days after her birth, before the late duke had taken her to the family who would raise her.

Then came the section that differed from his father’s letter; the one that was hardest of all to read. Near the very end, the handwriting became noticeably less even.

I did not write this to be forgiven, she had written. Only because I could not carry it silently any longer, and putting it on paper was the closest I could come to saying it aloud to you.

I think of you often, and wonder whether you were happy. Whether you knew, in whatever way children know such things, that I loved you, even though you never knew me as your mother. I hope you did. What I am sorry for is that I did not have the courage to love you openly.

He folded and unfolded the letter, returned to the first page, and read it a second time before he finally rose from the desk and made his way through the house.

His mother was sitting in the drawing room when he found her. She looked up as he entered, and her eyes went immediately to the letter in his hand.

“You read it,” she said.

“I did,” Leopold answered, crossing the room to sit opposite her, putting the letter on the table between them.

“Did Honora read it as well?” she asked, looking at the folded pages.

“Yes.”

She nodded slowly, and for several seconds neither of them said anything more.

“Can you ever forgive me?” she finally asked.

Leopold studied his mother thoughtfully, thinking of how Honora had chosen to forgive him, even after his careless dismissal of her had nearly cost Cecily’s and her lives. “I am not yet capable of forgiveness, but I can remain in my chair. Honora showed me what courage looks like when she held her place. Now, I am attempting the same.”

The dowager duchess smiled sadly, nodding only once. Leopold gave his mother a nod in return. Then, leaving the letter with his mother, he went back to his study.

***

That afternoon, Barnaby barged into the study unannounced and uninvited.

“The magistrate has filed the charges,” Barnaby said, without any preamble at all.

“Against Isolde?” Leopold asked, looking up.

“For the kidnapping,” Barnaby confirmed, nodding.

“And Lord Penmere?”

“He has written a formal apology on his daughter’s behalf.” Barnaby set a page down on the desk. “It is a good deal more contrite than I expected it to be, honestly.”

“And Isolde herself?”

“Sent to a relative in Hertfordshire.”

“That was quick,” Leopold said, raising an eyebrow.