Page 3 of Undercover Duke
“First of all, that only hurts Vanessa. Second, if my aunt is cornered, she’ll just lie. Besides, all of this depends upon our pursuing our investigation while the killer still thinks she got away with it. That’s why I haven’t told Aunt CoraorVanessa that we’ve determined my father died of arsenic. Which is another reason you should question my aunt. She won’t suspect you.”
“What about Sanforth?” Sheridan asked. “Originally we decided I was to ask questions in the town. What happened tothatpart of our plan to find the killer—or killers—of our fathers?”
“Heywood can manage the Sanforth investigation perfectly well.”
That was probably true. Sheridan’s younger brother, a retired Army colonel, had already made significant improvements to his own modest estate. Compared to that, asking questions of Sanforth’s tiny populace would be an afternoon’s entertainment.
“So you see,” Grey went on, “there’s no reason for you to even return to the country. As long as you’re in town for the play this afternoon, you might as well pop into the box my aunt’s brother has at the theater and see what you can find out. You can pretend you’re there to chat with Vanessa.”
“That’s assuming they even attend the play,” Sheridan said. “Charitable productions don’t sound like things Lady Eustace would enjoy.”
“Oh, they’ll be there,” Grey said. “Vanessa will make sure of it. It’s Juncker’s play, remember?”
“Right.” He stared down into the shimmering liquor and bit back an oath. “Very well. I will endure Lady Eustace’s suspicions to learn what I can.” Which meant he’d also be enduring Vanessa’s foolish gushing over Juncker.
His throat tightened. He didn’t care. Hewouldn’tcare.
“Thank you,” Grey said. “Now if you don’t mind . . .”
“I know. Beatrice is waiting for you at the estate, and you’ve got quite a long journey.” He met his brother’s anxious gaze and softened his tone. “Everything will be fine. The Wolfes come from hardy stock. Not to mention our mother. If she can bear five children to three husbands before the age of twenty-five, I’m sure my cousin can give you an heir without too much trouble.”
“Or give me a girl. I don’t care which. As long as Beatrice survives it, and the child is healthy . . .”
“Go.” Sheridan could tell from Grey’s distracted expression that the man’s mind was already leaping forward to the moment he would reach his wife. “Go be with her. I won’t disappoint you.”
Sheridan knew firsthand the anguish love could cause, how deep it ran, how painful the knot it tied around one’s throat. Helene hadn’t meant to, but she’d made him wary of love.
That was precisely why he never intended to be in such a situation again. Just seeing Grey’s agitation was more than enough to caution him. Love could chew a man up and spit him out faster than his Thoroughbreds could run. Sheridan already had plenty of things to worry about. He didn’t intend to add a wife to that number.
Chapter Two
“Wait, girl,” Vanessa’s mother said as she stopped her daughter from entering the Pryde family box. “Your headpiece is crooked.” She shoved a hat pin into Vanessa’s fancy turban, skimming her scalp.
“Mama! That hurt!”
“It’s notmyfault it won’t stay put. Bridget must have put on the trim unevenly. Serves you right for not buying a new turban.”
Her mother always wanted her to buy new instead of remaking something. Unfortunately, the estate of Vanessa’s late father didn’t produce enough income—and the widow’s portion for her mother never stretched far enough—for Vanessa to spend money recklessly. So Vanessa and her lady’s maid, Bridget, were always practicing small economies to ensure she and Mama lived within their means.
Mama didn’t see the point of that. First, she was incessantly trying to impress someone with how lofty they were. Second, she was pinning her hopes on Vanessa marrying well.
“It’s not the trim, Mama,” Vanessa grumbled. “The whole thing is lopsided from your fooling with it.”
“I’m merely trying to fix it. You must look nice for the gentlemen.”
Vanessa really only wanted to look nice foronegentleman, but he would probably ignore her as usual. If he did, she would have to give up hope of ever gaining his attention. So far, nothing seemed to have worked in that regard.
Uncle Noah Rayner, her favorite relation next to her cousin Grey, patted Vanessa’s arm reassuringly. “You know your mother—always thinking about your suitors.”
“And with good reason,” her mother said. “The girl doesn’t have the sense God gave her when it comes to men. Sheshouldbe married to Greycourt, but instead she dragged her feet, and now he’s married to that low chit Miss Wolfe.”
“That ‘low’ chit,” Vanessa bit out, “is the granddaughter of a duke just as I am. So if she’s low, then so am I. Besides, I like her.” Beatrice had proved a fitting match for Grey when Vanessa had despaired of ever seeing him wed.
“Of course you do.” Mama fussed a bit more over the turban. “You always prefer the wrong sort of people.”
“I find they’re generally more interesting than the right sort,” Vanessa grumbled.
“Like that playwright you’re enamored of?” Her mother shook her head. “Sometimes I think you want to marry the poorest fellow you can find just to vex me.”
