Undercover Duke

for the duchess.
Anger welled up in Sheridan. “What is this . . . this arse trying to say?” He pinned his mother with a hard look. “That you were unhappy with all your previous husbands?” Like his father, for example?
It was foolish to be angry over that. His parents had never hidden the fact that their marriage had been one between friends, and romantic love hadn’t entered into the equation. Much as that stuck in his craw, it was something he and his siblings considered a truth of their family.
“So is this writer correct?” he went on. “Are you romantically interested in Sir Noah? Or are you simply using him to make Bonham jealous? Or pretending to be interested in him for other reasons?”
She shot out of the chair. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s my concern if you’re attempting to ‘investigate’ the death of Grey’s father by cozying up to Sir Noah.”
The pure shock on her face told him he’d made a false supposition.
Then her expression closed up with all the stubbornness he’d come to expect from his mother. “And what if I was?” She stared him down. “Weren’t you doing the same thing, trying to cozy up to Miss Pryde to get closer to her mother?”
God, but Mother was certainly good at understanding how her sons thought. Despite knowing what she was after, it put him on the defensive. “I told you before, it’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“No point in you trying to deny it. Before Grey left town yesterday, he told me what he was planning to have you do.”
That didn’t sound like Grey. “Did he really?”
“Are you saying I’m lying?”
Damn. If he wasn’t careful, this would degenerate into Mother making claims that he couldn’t prove or disprove. “You have been known to fudge the truth occasionally. Besides, I got the impression Grey was in a hurry to leave town. So I can’t see why he would visit you first.”
His mother smiled a cat-in-the-cream smile. “I came upon him while I was visiting Gwyn. She was the one who gave Grey the name of a respected accoucheur in London. That’s why he sought her out. Before he came here, that is.”
There was no way he could dispute that. Not without talking to Gwyn. “As I told you before, I was cozying up to Vanessa because she wanted to make Juncker jealous. That’s all.” When she opened her mouth as if to dispute his claims, he held his hand up. “And if you want to confirm that, you’ll have to ask her. I’ve already said more than I should have.”
He wasn’t about to admit his mother was right about his ulterior motive for being around Vanessa. It was the sort of thing Mother might blurt out while sharing confidences with the young woman. And on some level, he knew it would hurt Vanessa deeply. He refused to do that to her. It seemed . . . wrong somehow.
As wrong as actually using her to find out what you need to know?
Inwardly he cursed. He was on a mission. His family’s very lives hung in the balance. Four men were already dead. Someone had destroyed Olivia’s laboratory—she could easily have died in the explosion. What if Mother or one of his brothers was next? He had to determine who was trying to kill or maim members of his family.
“Now, if you don’t mind,” he went on, “I have more ledgers to go over before I can pay a visit to Vanessa. She might very well be alarmed by that article in the London Society Times. I must reassure her that it won’t cause any great damage to her plans to snag Juncker.” Not to mention, he’d promised to protect her from Lisbourne. And he took that promise seriously.
His mother snorted. “If you say so.”
“Is there anything else you need from me?”
She rose from the chair. “Not at the moment, no.”
“Good. Then I shall see you this evening.” He called out to stay her march toward the door to his study. “I hope you will keep this confidential.”
“Of course. Don’t I always?”
He stifled a skeptical laugh. “Not if you can avoid it.”
Mother didn’t seem to appreciate that, for with a sniff she exited the room. Then it was back to perusing his account ledgers once more.

Chapter Eight
Vanessa slept late and wandered down the stairs just past noon to have her breakfast. After selecting a hearty meal to see her through the afternoon’s calls, she thumbed through the newspapers laid out on the table until she found her favorite, the London Society Times. It didn’t take her long to notice an article about Thornstock’s party. The more she read, the sicker she felt. Who was this writer, that he managed to be at so many private engagements? Or to have connections to people at so many private engagements?
In a panic, she turned to the footman manning the breakfast table. “Has Mama seen this paper, by any chance?”
“I don’t believe so, miss. She hasn’t been down to breakfast yet.”
Thank heaven! Perhaps Mama really had been feeling ill when she’d left Vanessa with Uncle Noah and had come home.
But Vanessa wasn’t daft enough to go check on her. Let Mama sleep. And to make sure her mother never read this issue of the gossip rag, Vanessa tucked it under her arm, grabbed a roll, and hurried up the stairs. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it to her room before her mother accosted her in the hall.
Mama waved a page of newsprint at her. “What is the meaning of this, young lady?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mama.” Pleading ignorance sometimes worked.
This wasn’t one of those times. “No? Then what is this?” Her mother snatched the newspaper from under Vanessa’s arm.
“I’m bringing it to my room to read.”
“A likely story. I wouldn’t even have seen this bit of gossip if not for my friend next door, coming to congratulate