Chapter 5
Leopold went to the nursery before breakfast the following morning. He told himself it was a practical visit, that it was his duty to tend to the needs of the child, the room, or any small want Miss Redmond had discovered overnight.
The nursery door was open when he reached it.
Inside, Miss Redmond was already awake with Cecily on her lap, a blanket tucked around the baby’s shoulders.
The fire had been stirred, the curtains drawn back to the gray morning.
Miss Redmond’s hair was not yet fully pinned, and without the careful neatness she wore in company, she looked younger.
Cecily saw him first. She gave a delighted little sound and kicked both feet once.
Leopold stopped in the doorway. “Good morning.”
Miss Redmond looked up at once. “Good morning, Your Grace.”
She straightened a little, as if she had not meant to be found so unguarded.
Leopold stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “How was the first night?”
Miss Redmond glanced down at Cecily, whose hands were now busy with the corner of the blanket. “She woke twice.”
Leopold’s brows lifted. “Only twice?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And?”
“She settled quickly both times.”
Cecily chose that moment to smack her palm against Miss Redmond’s collarbone with a pleased air, as though confirming her own importance.
Miss Redmond caught the hand gently before it could reach for her hair.
Leopold watched how easily she caught the baby’s hand, as if it was completely second nature.
He folded his hands behind his back. “You are up early.”
“So are you.”
“Yes. But I did not expect a new nursemaid to be so quick to rise with a new child.”
Miss Redmond shrugged.
“I have a great deal of practice. I always try to be awake before a child has need of me.”
“So I see.”
Her mouth moved, as though she wanted to smile. Perhaps she does not smile because she is still nervous, Leopold thought.
He looked at the nursery basket on the table and then back at her. “Do you need anything for the room?”
Miss Redmond glanced around. “No, Your Grace. It is well prepared.”
He nodded. “Good.”
She shifted Cecily higher on her hip. “Whoever arranged it knew what they were doing.”
Leopold’s mouth twitched. He felt strangely proud of the praise. “I did it myself.”
That made her look up at him properly. Her eyes lifted to his, widening with surprise.
“I see,” she said at last.
“That is a rather bland response.”
Her mouth twitched, as though she wanted to smile. “It is not what I expected.”
“No?”
“No, Your Grace.”
He looked at Cecily, who had begun chewing thoughtfully on the edge of her blanket. “What did you expect?”
Miss Redmond was silent for a moment.
When she answered, her voice was neutral again. “I had not thought about it.”
That is not true, he thought, silently noting her harmless but very apparent lie. Though perhaps I do not blame her. I would not know what to expect from a duke desperately seeking help caring for a child that half of London believes is his secret, shamefully hidden child.
He had meant to ask about the night and leave before the household stirred. Instead, he remained while the light grew at the windows and Cecily shifted from thoughtful curiosity to drowsy contentment in Miss Redmond’s arms.
“What do you like to read?” he asked after a moment, surprising himself.
Miss Redmond looked up, seeming as stunned as he was. “Pardon me?”
“I am curious as to what you enjoy reading. Whenever you are not caring for children, of course.”
Her gaze sharpened. He saw her decide how much she wanted to tell him. She was not just nervous. She did not trust him. Once again, he found he could not blame her.
“History, mostly,” she said.
He waited. “What period?”
Miss Redmond looked down at Cecily for one moment. He realized that the young woman found comfort and reassurance in the child. If he did not know better, he might have thought the baby was her own. “The Tudors,” she said at last.
“That is a bold favorite,” Leopold said.
Miss Redmond looked wary. “Is it?”
“It suggests a taste for danger, ambition, and people making disastrous choices in expensive clothing.”
For one startled second, she smiled. “Then perhaps it is only honest history.”
“A troubling standard.”
“Most true things are troubling, Your Grace.”
Leopold studied her. “You do not speak like a woman who reads only when children are asleep.”
The smile vanished almost at once. “Then I shall try to sound less well-read in future.”
“That was not a criticism.”
“No,” she said softly. “But it was an observation.”
It was, and they both knew observations could become dangerous things.
He thought about asking how she had come to that answer, but Cecily wriggled hard enough to distract them both. Miss Redmond knelt and set her on her feet. The baby reached for Leopold’s trouser leg with one hand, squatting precariously but not completely losing her balance.
He watched her as she closed her fingers around the fabric just below his knee. Cecily tugged once, then braced both hands and pulled herself fully upright.
Miss Redmond let out a quick, startled breath. “Oh.”
Leopold remained still. She stood gripping his trouser leg with both hands, grave and determined.
“That is certainly new,” he said, marveling at the child.
Miss Redmond’s hand paused on Cecily’s shoulder, and the answer did not come as quickly as it should have. “Yes.” Her face froze, as though she had said something wrong. “I mean, in the time I have been here, she has never even tried to do that.”
Cecily bobbed again, steadying her legs beneath her with an expression of intense concentration.
Then, she stood, looking down at her feet and then up at him, grinning as though she understood she had just accomplished a major feat.
She remained standing for four seconds before dropping to her seat on the rug with a solid thump.
Miss Redmond reached for her, but Cecily was already offended by gravity. She grunted, her cheeks turning red as she tried without success to stand again.
Leopold crouched at once before he could think better of it. “That seemed ambitious.”
Cecily stared at him with intent wariness, as though she thought he was the reason she fell down.
Miss Redmond laughed under her breath.
He looked up at her. The laugh had changed her face before she could collect herself again. Though only for a second, he saw how truly lovely she was. He noticed it so completely that even once her expression went back to neutral, he could not unsee it.
Leopold straightened again.
“I ought to leave you to it,” he said, though he realized he did not truly want to leave.
Miss Redmond’s hands gripped firmly under Cecily’s arms. “Of course, Your Grace.”
He moved toward the door, then paused. “If she manages to stand again, I should like to be informed.”
Miss Redmond’s mouth twitched. “I will make certain she understands the importance of it.”
“She should be encouraged.”
“She may become vain.”
Leopold glanced back at her. “At her age, that seems unlikely.”
Miss Redmond lowered her eyes with that same smile from before.
“Young ladies with her temperament begin early, Your Grace,” she said, turning her face away before he could see the rest of her smile.
Leopold chuckled and nodded.
“You make an excellent point.”
There was another silence, but it felt far less uncomfortable.
Leopold glanced at the child again, who was looking at Miss Redmond as though she expected her fall to be remedied.
Leopold took a deep breath and stepped out the door before he could decide to stay after all. That, at least, was sensible.
Less sensible was the fact that Miss Redmond’s smile followed him down the corridor.
It had been fleeting enough to dismiss, nothing more than a private little curve of amusement as she turned from him.
Yet he remembered it with an accuracy that annoyed him.
He remembered, too, the brightness it brought to her face before she gathered herself back into caution.
He had begun by studying her because something about her did not quite fit.
Now he was thinking about her because he could not seem to stop.
Leopold reached the stairs and paused, one hand resting on the banister.
That was dangerous thinking.
Miss Redmond was hiding something. He was almost certain of it. The problem was that suspicion had begun to share space with curiosity. And that curiosity was dangerously close to becoming an interest he had no business indulging.
***
After lunch, he walked the grounds with Barnaby. The weather had turned pale and cold. Barnaby walked with his hands behind his back, as if waiting for Leopold to say what had occupied him all morning.
Leopold had spent the walk pretending to notice the frost on the hedges while his mind returned, with irritating persistence, to the nursery. He had expected to practically forget about the child as soon as the nursemaid arrived. Yet they were both quickly becoming all he could think about.
“How is the new nursemaid settling in?” Barnaby asked.
Leopold kept his eyes on the path ahead. “She is competent.”
“That is a rather careful answer.”
“It is an accurate one.”
Barnaby gave him a sidelong look. “The baby appears attached to her.”
Leopold said, “Cecily responds to her better than anyone else who has tried.”
“That is good.”
“Yes.”
Barnaby watched him a moment longer. “What else have you noticed?”
Leopold frowned. “About Miss Redmond?”
Barnaby snorted.
“No,” he said dryly. “I mean the future governess you have not even considered hiring yet.” He paused to chuckle as though he found himself quite hilarious. “Of course, I mean Miss Redmond.”
Leopold gave a small impatient exhale, frustrated that his friend already seemed to sense how his thoughts lingered on the nursemaid.
“She is educated beyond what her position suggests. She enjoys reading history. The Tudors, to be more precise. And she seems to have very thoroughly considered opinions on the subject.”
Barnaby nodded thoughtfully. “That is worth paying attention to.”