Page 88 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

Leopold said, “Her name is Cecily.”

“Of course,” Lady Isolde said lightly. “Forgive me.”

She stepped farther into the room with Leopold close behind and looked around the nursery as if she were considering it with genuine interest. Her expression was pleasant, and not once did she glance at Honora in the way the dowager sometimes did. There was no suspicion in her face. No challenge. Only a sort of easy, polished warmth.

That, Honora thought, was worse.

Lady Isolde looked at Cecily again. “May I?”

Honora hesitated just a moment before lifting the baby into her arms, and then, after another polite glance, passed her over.

Lady Isolde took Cecily without hesitation.

It was a small thing, but Honora noticed it. The certainty, the confidence, the assumption that the child would come when asked.

Cecily blinked at her, then reached for the ribbon on Lady Isolde’s sleeve.

Lady Isolde laughed under her breath and adjusted her hold with practiced ease. “What a sweet child.”

Honora said nothing.

Lady Isolde’s attention stayed on Cecily for a moment longer, then she handed her back and stepped away without comment. “She has very good color.”

Leopold’s face remained composed, but Honora saw the faintest shift in his jaw.

Lady Isolde did not ask about Honora’s background, about references, about how long she had worked there, or where she had come from, or why she seemed to know Cecily so well. Honora understood at once that she was not threatened by the nursemaid because the nursemaid was staff, and Lady Isolde was about to be the duchess.

She treated Honora with the polite warmth of someone who had already decided where everyone belonged and was comfortable with the arrangement.

That should not have unsettled her as much as it did.

Lady Isolde smiled again. “You must be very devoted to the child.”

Honora answered carefully. “Yes, my lady.”

“How fortunate for her.”

Leopold looked from one woman to the other, saying nothing. His expression had gone very still.

Then someone called him from downstairs. Mrs. Pritchard, perhaps. A groom. Honora did not hear the name.

“Lord Belgrave?” a voice called from the hall.

Leopold glanced toward the door. “Excuse me.”

“Of course,” Lady Isolde said.

He left the room at once.

The change in Lady Isolde was immediate and so slight that only someone watching closely would have noticed it; the pleasant expression remained.

But it thinned.

She looked at the baby once more, then turned that same polished attention back to Honora. “How long have you been with the household?”

Honora kept her face calm. “A little while, my lady.”

“And before that?”