Page 12 of The Lady Was Lying
“Lost in memories.” He kept his gaze steady. “He might not have been lucid but that doesn’t mean he was wrong. I’ve never seen him more serious.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “I noticed the change in you. I thought it was because of his death.”
“I can mourn his loss and lament the secrets he kept.”
“It wasn’t his secret, but he wasn’t supposed to tell you,” she whispered. “We were supposed to take the truth of your paternity to our graves.”
James sucked in a breath at the confirmation of what he’d already known.
Verification was more painful than he’d expected.
It hurt that he’d been lied to. It hurt that he couldn’t predict how the truth would affect his future. But most of all, it hurt that he was never supposed to have known.
His mother twisted her skirts in her hands, crushing the fabric. “He didn’t want you to know. He’d be so distressed if he were here now.” Expression desperate, she leaned forward. “You were his son in every way that mattered, and he made me promise that I’d never tell you the truth. I can’t believe?—”
“He can’t hold you to a promise that he broke, and now that I know, I need you to explain what happened.” It was probably unfair to ask her when she was obviously so upset, but the situation James found himself in was not his fault, and yet the consequences of it were his to bear. “Everything will be worse if I’m unprepared when the truth is discovered.”
“The truth will not be discovered. No one else knows.” She bowed her head and spoke so softly he almost couldn’t make out her words. “I cannot tell you. I cannot.”
Was the truth that awful? Would it sting more than the lie?
“You must” he replied, because it didn’t matter how much the truth hurt. The Countess of Greydon had seen a resemblance between him and her father, and he had to know if they were somehow related. “Last night, the Countess of Greydon looked at me like I was a ghost. She asked?—”
“Greydon?” She let out a shaky breath. “There is no connection between my past and Greydon. He does not know anything. I’m sure of it.”
Was she not listening? “It isn’t the earl I’m concerned about. It is the countess who was asking me questions.”
“The countess?” She grimaced and shook her head slightly. “I know nothing of the countess, but it seems unlikely?—”
“She asked about Cheltenham.”
“Oh.” Pressing her lips together, tears welled in her eyes. “Oh,” she repeated. “That’s where I grew up. Danford Manor was the neighboring estate to my childhood home and…heavens…this is a nightmare. If the countess has a connection to Danford, it’s…I never wanted…” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I don’t want to be the one to tell you what happened. I don’t want you to know.”
“You don’t have a choice. I cannot risk someone knowing what I don’t.”
“No one else knows. But…you’re right.” The tears kept coming, and he reached out to rub her back. “Coming to London was a risk. That is why I told you not to come. When you refused to listen, I tried as hard as I could to convince myself no one would notice your resemblance to him. He wasn’t active in society, and I assumed the only person we had to worry about was his brother, but they were not close, and the family was scandal-averse, so I didn’t think he’d press, even if he suspected.”
She was talking in riddles, and James couldn’t figure out his next move until he had a name. “Who is my real father?”
Her hands tightened on her skirt again, but no words left her mouth.
“Mother,” he said. “Please tell me.”
“You’re going to hate me.” She released her skirt to wipe her eyes, and then, with her gaze fixed on the ground, she abruptly started talking. “His name was Joseph Hart. We had been neighbors all our lives, and…I don’t know…we were young and foolish. He was destined for the church, and my father wanted me to marry someone with better prospects than a third son. I didn’t necessarily disagree, but my season had been underwhelming and…well…I was lonely. We were irresponsible, I guess. Or just too young to know better.
“I had already begun to suspect I was increasing when the duke came to visit my father that summer. Avondale offered for my hand within days of his arrival. He was older but kind, and my parents were overjoyed that I would be a duchess. Before I agreed to the betrothal, I…I felt obligated to confess my situation to him. I begged him to leave without telling anyone, but he insisted he wanted to marry me anyway. I was only eighteen at the time and I…made a choice.”
She covered her watery eyes with her hands. “It was the right choice. I don’t regret it, but I’ll always wish you had never discovered the truth. I don’t want you affected by the decision I made.”
It was too late.
The truth was somewhat less sordid than he expected, although one thing still confused him. “Are you saying the duke married you because you were expecting me?”
“I think so. He didn’t seem surprised when I told him. It was like he already knew somehow. Or maybe he just hoped. I don’t know.” Her hands left her face, and she reached out to grip his forearms. “He wanted children, and he couldn’t… He loved you so much. Even then. He wanted a son more than anything. He promised me everything if I married him. For you. For me. He loved us and he gave us a beautiful life.”
The duke had given them a beautiful life, but it was hard for James to reconcile the man he’d known with the man who had lied to him. Knowing changed everything, but at the same time, it changed nothing. His father was already dead, and he had become the duke no matter whether he was supposed to be or not.
“What if I’d been female?” he asked.
