Her Grace has a mission, as explained in the following passage. I’ve changed a couple of names to keep the secret of who has Aldridge’s baby, which is revealed part way through the novel where this excerpt appears.

The entrance and public rooms of Haverford House were designed to impress lesser mortals with the greatness of the family—and their own lesser status. Maud was ushered to a room just off the lofty entrance hall. Small by Haverford standards, this waiting area nonetheless dwarfed the people waiting to see the duchess.

Two women, one middle-aged and the other a copy some twenty years younger, nervously perched on two of the ladder-backed chairs lining one wall. Next to them, but several chairs along, a lean young man with an anxious frown pretended to read some papers, shuffling them frequently, peering over the tops of his spectacles at the door to the next room. Two men strolled slowly along the wall, examining the large paintings and conversing in low whispers. A lone woman walked back and forth before the small window, hushing the baby fretting on her shoulder.

Maud took a seat and prepared for a wait. She would not tremble. She had nothing to fear. Both Tolliver and George said so, and Aldridge, too. But how she wished the waiting was over.

It seemed a long time but was only a few minutes, before a servant hurried in and approached her.

“Miss Kenyon? Her Grace will see you now.”

Maud gave the other occupants an apologetic nod and followed the servant.

The duchess received her in a pretty parlour, somehow cosy despite its grand scale. Maud curtseyed to her and the woman with her. Were all petitioners waved to a seat on an elegant sofa facing Her Grace? Addressed as ‘my dear’? Asked if they should care for a cup of tea?

“Miss Kenyon takes her tea black, with a slice of lemon,” the duchess told her companion. Or was the woman her secretary?

“Miss Kenyon, my companion, Miss Grant. Miss Grant, Miss Kenyon has been of great service to me and to those I love. I am always at home to her.”

Was Miss Grant one of the army of relatives for whom Her Grace had found employment, or perhaps one of the dozens of noble godchildren she sponsored? The young woman did not have the look of either Aldridge or his brother, nor of their parents. Prue murmured a greeting.

“I was not expecting you, Miss Kenyon, was I? Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Your Grace. I just… I have some questions, Ma’am.”

“You should have sent a note, my dear. I will always take time to see you. I was happy to give a good report of you to my friend Lady Georgiana, of course.” As she spoke, the duchess took the tea cup from Miss Grant and passed it to her.

“Your Grace, I would like to speak with you alone, if I may. I beg your pardon, Miss Grant. I do not mean to be discourteous.”

The duchess stopped her own cup partway to her lips and put it carefully back into the saucer, examining Maud’s face carefully.

When she spoke, it was to Miss Grant. “Celia, my dear, will you let those waiting know that I will be delayed…” she consulted her lapel watch, “…thirty-five minutes, but I will see them all today? Perhaps you could arrange refreshments for them? Return on the half hour, please. That is all the time I can spare, Miss Kenyon. If you need longer, I will ask you to wait or return another day.”

Maud shook her head. “The time will be ample, Ma’am. Thank you.”

As Miss Grant left the room, Maud was silent, collecting her thoughts. The duchess waited.

“You knew about my daughter. You have known all along.” Maud shifted uneasily. She had not intended to sound accusing.

The duchess inclined her head, her face showing nothing but calm. “Since shortly after her birth.”

Maud did not know how to ask the questions that crowded her mind, but the duchess had exhausted her noble patience, which was, after all, on a schedule. “What is it you wish to know, Miss Kenyon? Why I said nothing?” Her voice softened, and her eyes were compassionate. “I read your sister’s letter, and thought to write back and offer you and the child a place with me. I did not think a home filled with such… such judgement could be happy for either of you. But family is best, if it can be contrived. And there was Aldridge. I was unsure how things had been left between you. He seemed to feel a genuine fondness; I thought he might… He has more charm than is helpful in such situations, and I did not want my granddaughter raised… Well. That is not to the point now.”

She took a deep breath. So she was not as calm as she seemed, either. “I sent someone I trust to check whether you needed my intervention, and found you had left the letter writer to live with another sister. A more hospitable environment, my agent thought.”

Maud knew who the duchess’s trusted messenger was. “Tolliver.”

Her Grace nodded. “Yes. Thomas and I have an equal commitment to protecting and championing those to whom the Grenfords owe a duty.”

“You and I have met since, Your Grace.”

“Your secrets are yours to keep or share, Miss Kenyon. I have often wished to ask after your daughter, but I did not wish to intrude. My son’s carelessness changed your life in ways for which I can never compensate. The Grenfords have responsibilities here, but no rights.”

Maud felt suddenly dizzy as her tension drained away.

“I was afraid,” she admitted. “I knew about the three girls: the young ladies you are raising. I thought you might… I feared you would take my daughter. Aldridge told me you would not, and so did George and Tolliver.”

The duchess leaned forward to pat Maud’s hand. “Oh, my dear. I am so sorry you were worried. Matilda, Jessica, and Frances had no one else, and at the time we found them I did not understand that a quieter life in a less prominent household would have served them better. Frances was the last I took into my own home, and that was nearly ten years ago. Now Thomas and I do better by those we find. But there, done is done, and the girls and I love one another dearly.”

She had kept Maud’s hand in hers, and she now gave it a comforting squeeze. “I can assure you, Miss Kenyon, I have never taken a child from a mother, or from relatives who cared. The future those little girls faced,” she shuddered at the thought, “was unutterably grim.”

She sat back, and picked up her abandoned cup to take a sip. “You say Aldridge reassured you. He knows about his daughter, then?”

“He has met her, Your Grace. He saved us from a dastardly villain. It was quite heroic.” Maud found herself telling the duchess about the attack .

A discreet knock at the door warned the duchess their time was nearly up. The Duchess of Haverford stood and walked Maud to the door, and folded her in a tight embrace. “I shall continue to rely upon you for your professional services from time to time, my dear, and will be pleased to say a good word if ever it can help you. You will let me know if there is anything else I can do,” she commanded. “Should the opportunity arise, I would dearly love to meet your daughter, entirely at your discretion.” She turned her head away, but not before Maud had seen the glistening eyes.

Maud curtseyed. “My association with you has always been to my benefit, Your Grace; I am certain such acquaintance with the House of Haverford can only be to my daughter’s advantage.”

David was the first by-blow saved by the Duchess of Haverford. The story of his journey to his new sponsor, with a brief introduction to Her Grace’s confederate, is told here.