Chapter 8
After the meeting with the duke, and the hard, cold expression on the dowager’s face when she interrupted the meeting, Honora felt as though the house was suddenly too small. She took Cecily to the east garden for air.
It was not truly warm, but the wind had eased, and the morning light had a pale, clean look to it that made the bare branches less severe.
Cecily sat on Honora’s hip at first and then, once they reached the garden path, was set down on the blanket Honora had brought with her.
The baby immediately seized a clump of grass and tried to eat it.
Honora caught her hand gently. “No.”
Cecily frowned at her, offended by the interruption.
Honora smiled despite herself and settled beside her on the blanket. Let her be angry, she thought. At least she is not terribly suffering from her teething for the moment.
It had been nine days since she arrived at Belgrave.
She knew the layout of the manor and the grounds.
She knew which corridor creaked outside the nursery, which stair was never used by the staff, which door the kitchen maid used when she carried laundry down to the washhouse, which times the gate was opened for deliveries and which times it stayed locked.
She knew when Mrs. Pritchard preferred the household quiet, when the upstairs maids made their rounds, and when Leopold vanished into the study and stayed there long enough to make the rest of the house feel as though it had forgotten him.
She had come to know these things by necessity so that she was never caught with her guard down. And now, at last, she had a plan for how she would get Cecily out of the manor and disappear before anyone even realized they were gone.
She would take Cecily and go north to Northumberland, where her aunt on her mother’s side had married years ago and now lived in a house by the coast.
Honora had not seen her in more than a year, but her aunt had once written kindly enough and had always been the sort of woman to take in a relative if the need were plain and the request honest. Honora hoped, perhaps foolishly, that she might offer shelter. Not forever. Only long enough to think.
She had enough money for the journey if she was careful. She had the service gate in mind. She had already decided which changes in the household routine gave her the best chance. What she did not have yet was the right time.
Cecily crawled to the edge of the blanket, found a leaf, and held it up with great seriousness.
Honora leaned back on one hand and watched her. “You are determined to become filthy.”
Cecily babbled, then shoved the leaf toward her mouth again. Honora took it away. The baby protested at once, kicking one foot hard enough to make the blanket shift. Honora was about to distract her with a ribbon from her sleeve when voices came from the path beyond the hedge. She looked up.
Leopold and Barnaby came around the corner from the stables, both of them in riding coats and boots dusted with the road. Leopold had one hand lifted as if he had been in the middle of saying something.
Barnaby walked beside him with his usual easy look of alertness, one shoulder slightly angled as though he had been listening more than speaking. They stopped the moment they saw her. And then, they saw Cecily.
Leopold’s face changed first, though only a little. The baby, for her part, lifted both arms and made a pleased sound at the sight of him.
Honora felt her shoulders contort into firm knots.
Leopold glanced at Barnaby, then at Cecily, then at Honora. “You have escaped the nursery.”
Honora rose partly, one hand still steadying the child. “She needed air.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
Barnaby looked from the baby to Honora and then to Leopold with a faintly amused expression. “Are we interrupting something private?”
“No,” Honora said, perhaps too quickly.
Leopold did not answer as quickly. He was looking at Cecily, who was reaching for him as though he had already promised to pick her up.
“She wants you, it would seem,” she said,
Barnaby’s brows rose slightly, but he said nothing.
Leopold looked at Honora as if checking whether she meant it. Then, when she did not move to stop him, he crouched beside the blanket and held out his arms.
Cecily reached with both hands and leaned forward immediately.
Honora’s breath caught. Leopold lifted her carefully, one hand under her back and one at her hip, and Cecily settled against him at once as if that had always been the proper arrangement.
She pressed her face into his shoulder, let out a pleased little sigh, and closed her eyes.
Honora froze. A month ago, that baby would not have gone to anyone but me, she thought. Something had changed, and Honora did not have the first idea what it could be.
Honora watched Leopold hold the child, trying to suppress fear and helplessness. The plan she had been creating in her mind began to crumble, as she no longer knew whether Cecily’s new ease with him made leaving simpler or impossible.
Barnaby watched the exchange with a look of quiet interest.
“How is she settling in?” he asked Honora.
The question sounded casual, but Honora knew it was not. She could feel the attention behind it, the careful way he was asking without seeming to ask too much.
“She is settling,” Honora said carefully.
Barnaby nodded as though that answer had told him something. “Good.”
Honora looked at him for a moment longer than she intended and then filed him away as a problem. He noticed too much. He did it politely, which made him worse because she never knew what he was thinking of doing with anything she told him.
Beside them, Leopold shifted Cecily higher on his shoulder and glanced down at her.
Cecily seemed to nestle more deeply into the duke and sighed again with perfect contentment.
The duke simply held Cecily and looked out over the garden wall.
Honora noticed that he looked rather happy and content, as well.
A moment later, a horse appeared there.
The rider slowed near the wall, reined in, and leaned slightly forward in the saddle. She was tall, dark-haired, and carried herself with the careless certainty of a woman who had no interest in pretending to be meek for anyone’s comfort.
Behind her, another horse appeared. Atop it sat a woman with pale brown hair tied in a tight bun and wearing a plain gray dress. She quickly positioned herself beside the dark haired woman, watching Leopold and Barnaby cautiously.
“Leopold,” the dark-haired woman called.
Leopold looked up at once. “Sabina.”
The woman’s horse pawed at the ground. She smiled down at him with open amusement. “So the rumors are true.”
Leopold’s expression did not change. “Partly.”
Sabina’s eyes shifted to the baby in his arms. “You are the father, then?”
“No. I said partly. That is the part that is not true.”
She laughed, clearly delighted by that answer, though whether it was because she believed him or because she did not, Honora could not tell. “Good. The county needed something interesting.”
Honora glanced once at Barnaby. He was watching the woman on horseback with an expression Honora could not immediately read.
Sabina’s gaze slid to him next. “And who is this?”
Barnaby stepped forward and bowed his head with easy politeness. “This is Barnaby Henshaw, Viscount Dunsmere.” He paused, turning to Barnaby. “Barnaby, this is my friend, Miss Sabina Montrose.” He glanced back toward the other woman. “And that is her lady’s maid, I believe.”
“Her name is Susan Wilson, Leopold,” Sabina said with a nod.
Leopold gave the lady’s maid a nod.
“Good day, Miss Wilson,” he said.
The young woman gave him a sheepish nod, but she said nothing.
Sabina’s brows lifted, turning her attention back to Barnaby. “I have heard of you. My father has had business dealings with your father and uncle. I expected someone taller.”
Barnaby grinned. “I will make a note of the disappointment.”
That drew a laugh from Sabina, who seemed to find him exactly as amusing as he found himself.
She tipped her chin toward Leopold. “You have a way of collecting odd company.”
Leopold gave her a dry look. “You came to observe it, apparently.”
“Only briefly.” Sabina adjusted the skirts of her riding habit over the sidesaddle and regarded the group with the bright interest of someone who enjoyed a story the moment it became public. “Well, with the whole district talking, I thought I should see the famous baby for myself.”
Honora felt her pulse rise.
Leopold did not look at her. “As you can see, she is real.”
Sabina’s smile widened. “And very precious, although I do not see much of a resemblance. Pity. I had hoped for something more dramatic.”
Barnaby folded his hands behind his back. “That suggests you enjoy theatrics.”
“I always enjoy theatrics,” Sabina said. “From men, especially.”
“I have been known to possess a fondness for theatrics myself,” Barnaby said proudly.
Leopold looked as though he might have several responses to his friend and the young lady. But when Cecily began to stir, his eyes left the pair and turned to her, and he began speaking to her softly.
Sabina shifted her attention back to Barnaby for one last assessing look and then gave her horse a light nudge. “Well. I have seen enough. Carry on with your foundling and your mystery.” She grinned at Leopold. “Try not to scandalize the county too much without warning the rest of us.”
Then she rode on.
Honora watched her disappear around the wall.
Barnaby followed her with his eyes a moment longer than was necessary.
Leopold noticed. Honora saw that too. At last, the interaction made sense to her. The viscount was smitten with Miss Montrose. And with the pink in her cheeks and the way she had laughed when Barnaby spoke, Honora thought she was smitten with him, as well.
The silence that followed felt slightly off. Cecily stirred against Leopold’s shoulder again and began her fussy grunting. Honora knew it was only a matter of minutes before she became nearly inconsolable.
Honora stepped forward at once. “She needs her nap.”