Page 97 of A Baby to Seal the Duke’s Fate

Honora listened to his footsteps disappearing down the corridor. Only when she could no longer hear them did she breathe. Something had changed. The night had altered something between them. Not in any direct or obvious way, but enough that going back to the way things had been felt impossible.

Honora sat on the edge of the chair with Cecily in her lap, breakfast momentarily forgotten. The baby played with a ribbon on Honora’s sleeve and babbled softly to herself, as if she sensed that her aunt needed a moment to think. Honora watched her.

Northumberland came to mind. It always did when she became anxious about Cecily’s and her life there. The route north she had planned during her first week at Belgrave, the roads, her aunt’s house, the possibility of shelter, the bag beneath her bed. She knew every part of the journey and had rehearsed it in her mind even before she had arrived at Belgrave. And now she knew something else. She was not going.

Honora closed her eyes. She was not going. The certainty was painful because it had been there for longer than she wanted to admit.

Perhaps she had known it when she first saw Leopold kneeling beside Cecily, or when he sat on the nursery floor and listened to her babble, or at the stream when he caught her before she fell. Or perhaps she had known it last night, when he stayed awake until dawn with a baby who was not his.

Whatever the moment had been, the decision was made. She could not take Cecily away. Not from a man who clearly loved her almost as much as Honora herself did.

A man who seems to be rather fond of me, as well, she thought.

But would he remain fond of her if he happened to find out she had been lying to him?

Honora looked down at the child. Cecily had begun chewing on the ribbon.

Honora lowered her head and pressed a kiss against Cecily’s hair. “I am going to tell him.”

The baby made a happy noise.

Honora looked at her. “Not that you have any say in the matter. Or even understand what the matter is.”

Cecily immediately grabbed her collar and grunted with the beginnings of impatience. Honora laughed quietly. “I know. I have not forgotten about your breakfast.” She sighed. “Though I suppose I almost did there for a moment.”

Cecily smacked her shoulder and furrowed her brow, as if she had understood Honora.

“I know, darling,” she said again. “Let us go get it, instead of waiting for it to be brought to us.”

Cecily made a burbling sound with her lips, causing a bubble of saliva. Honora quickly wiped it with the blanket. Then, she carried the baby toward the kitchen.

Barnaby fell into step beside her before she reached the end of the corridor.

Honora looked up. “Lord Dunsmere.”

“Miss Redmond.”

His tone was perfectly pleasant. His expression, however, was strange. It was a combination of amusement and accusation. They walked several steps in silence, and she started admonishing herself for her thought. I am getting jumpy because of my own guilt, she thought. But when Barnaby spoke, her stomach turned to ice.

“I know you are not Miss Redmond.”

Honora stopped. He did not, continuing on toward the library as though he had commented on the weather.

Honora caught up with him. “How long have you known?”

“Long enough.”

Her heart was beating hard now. “Does Leopold know?”

Barnaby looked at her. “No.”

Honora stared. He was not angry, nor was there any threat in his manner. He looked only grave and, to her surprise, almost sympathetic. That quiet sincerity made the shame of deceiving him worse.

“How?”

“You are not the woman the agency sent.”

Honora swallowed. He continued calmly. “I confirmed it.”