Page 13 of The Lady Was Lying
“He still would have loved you even if you could never inherit. He wanted a child too much to quibble about gender.” She said it with such certainty that it was impossible to argue. Part of him didn’t even want to.
The fact that he’d been loved was not inconsequential. But neither did it change the fact that everything he had known about his past was false. Why had she walked away from his real father like he didn’t matter? “What happened to Mr. Hart after you left?”
She wiped her tears and shrugged. “Joseph was furious when I told him I was marrying the duke. I guess he thought…I would eventually choose him. He told me I was making a mistake and stomped away. The duke and I left a couple of days later, and I never saw Joseph again.”
“You didn’t try to locate him when I decided to come to London for the season?”
“No. What would I say if I found him? If you happen to venture to London, please ignore your resemblance to my son?” Her voice sounded listless. Defeated.
“I suppose not,” he responded.
Any contact between Joseph Hart and his mother would be fraught with challenges. It probably made more sense for him to reach out to the other man even though he had no idea what he’d say or how Joseph would respond.
“He hated society. Absolutely abhorred it,” she added. “The chances of encountering him seemed small, and I hoped your resemblance to him wouldn’t be noticed. It’s been thirty years. Surely age has changed him, and legally,”—she shot to her feet and started pacing, her movements agitated—“you are the duke. The Countess of Greydon can’t know the truth. Not for certain. There wasn’t a countess at the time, and the only person I ever told was the duke. Joseph never knew of your existence, so there’s no way he could have told anyone. Our secret is safe, regardless of what the countess thinks.”
His mother seemed to be trying to convince herself, and James didn’t want to disagree with her, especially when she was so clearly distressed. Unfortunately, rumors could be just as destructive as truths, and wondering what the countess was going to say or do would drive him mad. It was imperative that he approach her and the earl privately so they could have a serious conversation. He wasn’t above begging for their discretion, if necessary.
“I’ll have to call on Greydon as soon as possible,” he murmured to himself.
“No. You cannot tell anyone,” his mother interrupted, eyes wide with horror. “If that is your intention, I must warn you against it. I recommend we leave London immediately. We can host a house party later in the year. Invite eligible women and their families. You can select a wife from the safety of Bramblewood.” Her hands fluttered in the air as she repeated the same suggestion she’d offered before they left. “I should never have agreed to let you come to London. What was I thinking?”
Even though it wouldn’t solve anything, he suddenly had an intense need for a drink. He didn’t imbibe often, but the urge to wallow until he was numb was too strong to ignore. Before he could stand, there was a scratch at the door.
“Come in,” he called, rising to his feet.
The door opened, and the butler slid silently into the room.
“Your Grace,” Griggs said tonelessly. “Lord Greydon and Lord Danford are here to see you. They are waiting in the receiving room.”
“Danford?” His mother swayed from left to right, and this time, since she was on her feet, she started to crumple. James rushed forward, barely catching her before she hit the floor. He pulled her limp form against his chest, staggered a few steps to the chaise lounge, and settled her against the cushions.
Griggs appeared over his shoulder, smoothly thrusting smelling salts under her nose, and after a second, her eyes shot open.
“We must return home at once,” she declared, trying to sit up. She only made it part way before swaying and collapsing against the cushions. Her distress was palpable, and James had no idea how to ease it. He couldn’t undo the past, and he had no idea whether he could control the future.
As calmly as he could manage, he tried to reassure her that he would handle everything. “I must speak with Greydon and Danford. I will figure out what they know and then decide what to do from there. Meanwhile, you’ve had a shock. You should rest. Griggs will call for a maid to assist you.”
“But—”
He held up a hand. “We will talk about this again later. You do not need to worry. I will do everything in my power to keep the truth quiet and to protect us.” It might turn out to be an empty promise, but he would do his best.
“You cannot?—”
“I have no choice.” Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room.
Hands unsteady and heart pounding, he descended the staircase. Confrontation was never pleasant, but the possibility of what might happen when he asked Danford and Greydon to keep his secrets made his stomach churn. They were strangers with no reason to protect him, and while his title might be more powerful than theirs, he was an outsider with few friends and even fewer connections.
The possibility that Danford was related to him in some capacity, possibly a cousin, was almost guaranteed, but would it be enough to inspire loyalty? Or would it instead inspire hate? Had Joseph ever married? Did James have brothers or sisters? Would they despise him without ever knowing him?
Pausing at the bottom of the staircase, he wondered exactly how he could explain what his mother had told him without making everything worse.
“Gentleman,” he said from the doorway of the receiving room.
Greydon moved toward him, a tight smile on his face, while Danford remained in his peripheral. James resisted the urge to turn and study the other man.
“Your Grace,” Greydon said, “I apologize for barging in, we?—”
“Perhaps you could join me in my study?” Privacy seemed essential for the discussion they were about to have. He refused to learn his fate under the watchful eye of his servants.
