Page 77 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

That afternoon the kitchen smelled of fresh bread and onions. Martha stood at the table kneading dough while Honora sat nearby with Cecily on a blanket, surrounded by wooden blocks the baby seemed determined not to stack in any recognizable order.

Honora waited until Martha had wiped the flour from her hands. “I overheard something.”

Martha looked up. “So I gathered.”

Honora blinked. “You saw me?”

“I saw you come back upstairs looking like someone who had heard something worth thinking about.”

Honora smiled faintly. “I suppose I did.”

Martha poured tea for both of them. “What happened?”

Honora told her. Not every word, only enough: Leopold discovering the letter, his mother admitting she had written to the orphanage, his refusal to allow Cecily to be sent away, and finally, the question that had followed all of it. Do you know something about this child that you have not told me?

When she finished, Martha remained quiet for a moment. Then she nodded once. “This is not the first time.”

Honora looked up. “It is not?”

“No.” Martha stirred her tea. “Her Grace has been trying to send that baby away since she arrived.”

Honora frowned. “I thought perhaps she had changed her mind.”

Martha laughed softly. “No. She simply realized arguing with His Grace was not accomplishing anything.”

Honora looked toward Cecily. The little girl had abandoned the blocks entirely and was now concentrating on removing one shoe.

“I do not understand why she wants her gone so badly.”

Martha watched the child with gentle amusement. “I expect Her Grace believes she is protecting the family.”

“And Leopold?”

Martha smiled. “Oh, His Grace decided the matter the first morning.”

Honora looked back at her. “He did?”

“A man who assembles a nursery overnight for a baby that is not his has already made his decision,” Martha said matter-of-factly. “He simply has not admitted it aloud.”

Honora considered that. The hurried furniture, the books, the blankets, the tiny wardrobe, the toys that had appeared almost overnight. She had noticed all of it, simply never thinking about what it meant.

Martha continued kneading the dough. “In all the years I have worked here,” she said, “this is the most interesting thing Leopold has done since inheriting the title.”

Honora laughed. “You say that as though inheriting a dukedom is ordinarily dull.”

“It is.” Martha shrugged. “Mostly paperwork.”

Honora laughed again. Cecily looked up immediately, apparently delighted by the unfamiliar sound, and clapped both hands together.

Martha smiled. “There.”

“What?”

“You have been laughing more.”

Honora’s smile faded into something quieter. “I had not noticed.”

“I noticed.”