Page 47 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

“The library is available to the whole household. Any time you wish.”

She lowered her eyes briefly to the page. “That is useful.”

“This was meant to be reassuring.”

“It was.”

The answer was soft enough that he could not tell whether she was amused or simply cautious.

Leopold leaned back in the chair by the window and crossed one ankle over the other. “Do you read about gardens as often as you read about history?”

She smiled, softly and with surprise.

“Sometimes.”

“Why this book specifically? Was there something special about it?”

Phoebe glanced down at the title and then at him again. “I like the planning in this one.”

“That seems like a very particular reason.”

“It is.”

“Do you enjoy spending time in gardens, as well?”

“Sometimes.”

“Have you explored the gardens here at Belgrave?”

She paused, her glance meant to be casual, though it appeared more cautious.

“I have taken Cecily for a couple of walks. The gardens are quite…interesting.”

He looked toward the book, then back at her. “You have opinions on the grounds, then?”

“I have questions.”

That got his attention. “About what?”

She looked at him a moment before answering, as though deciding whether to be precise or evasive. “How the east path is maintained. Which areas are replanted in spring. Why the hedge near the rear wall has been allowed to grow unevenly.”

Leopold blinked once. Barnaby would have called those points specific. Leopold found them more than that. They were observant in a way that did not fit the role she had taken in the house.

“Do most nursemaids inquire about hedges?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow, her eyes not entirely calm.

“I imagine not.”

“No,” he said more dryly than he intended. “They do not.”

Phoebe turned another page. “Then again, most nursemaids probably do not spend much time in the library.”

“That is also true.”

Cecily suddenly jabbed a finger into the page and looked delighted by the resulting crinkle of paper. Phoebe caught the child’s hand and laughed softly, looking at the infant as if, for that moment, she was the only other person in the world. Her laugh was low and unguarded enough that Leopold looked at her again before she could collect herself.

There it is, he thought. The warmth. Her demeanor changed when she was focused only on Cecily. It was not dramatic, but it was real, and it made the room feel different, as if the person speaking to the baby were more natural than the woman speaking to him.