Undercover Duke

eyebrow. “And yet you aren’t married. At least I didn’t squander my youth without finding a husband. I had the good sense to accept the first eligible man to offer for me at my age.”
“Mama!” Vanessa said, as heat rose up her neck to her cheeks. She had to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out that for years her mother had discouraged any suitor who wasn’t Grey. Because if she said what she was thinking, her mother might say something even worse.
“In any case,” Mama said, “you should be able to guess why I had to marry so late. It was on account of your three aunts, my older sisters. Your grandfather wouldn’t pay for a debut for the rest of us until the oldest had wed. So I had to wait until each got married before I could have my own debut.”
“Oh, Mama, I didn’t know.”
With a sniff, her mother settled her skirts about her. “Well, now you do. Families have obligations—parents have obligations. And sometimes they don’t allow much leeway for the children.”
That was another dig at Vanessa, but she knew better than to rise to it. When things became heated with Mama, it was always better to play along than to fight. Her mother was ruthless in a fight, even with her daughter. Or perhaps especially with her daughter.
But her mother’s remarks did make Vanessa wonder if Mama’s own trials with trying to get married were what had made her so rabid about controlling whom Vanessa wed.
Meanwhile, Sheridan was looking from her to her mother, as if trying to assess the relationship. No doubt it was markedly different from his relationship with his own mother. They had seemed very comfortable with each other at the Thorncliff party.
Time to change the subject. “So, Mama, were you and the duchess friends back then?” Vanessa asked, now curious to know.
Her mother straightened in her chair. “Of a sort. We went to the same balls, dinners, and parties, for the most part. But Lydia was fairly quickly wed to Grey’s father. The Fletchers had an arrangement with the man, since Lydia’s mother was secretly his mistress and thought that marrying her daughter to him was a good way to keep him in her—” She caught herself before saying “bed,” clearly remembering a bit late whom she was talking to. “In her sphere, so to speak.”
Sheridan had ice in his eyes now. “Didn’t you tell me last night, Lady Eustace, that you weren’t one to gossip?”
That turned her mother belligerent. “There’s a difference between common knowledge and gossip.”
“So this arrangement was known by many?” Sheridan asked.
“Of course. It was the worst kept secret in London.”
Sheridan’s brow furrowed. “And did this plan of my grandmother’s to keep Grey’s father in her ‘sphere’ work?”
“I suppose. Hard to say, since he only lived long enough to see his heir born.” It finally seemed to occur to Mama that she was being most inappropriate, for she waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, why are we speaking of such dour matters? I would rather talk about your estate, Armitage. It’s in Lincolnshire, correct?”
That seemed to catch him off guard. “It is indeed.” Sheridan glanced at Vanessa, but she just shrugged. She had no idea where her mother was headed with this.
“I’m told that Lincolnshire is a fine place to visit,” Mama said, “especially this time of year, with the harvest going on and the bull running festival approaching.”
His gaze narrowed on her mother. “So you’ve been to my part of Lincolnshire.”
“No. Why would you think such a thing?”
“Because you mentioned the bull running festival in Sanforth, near us. The festival is not well-known. In fact, I believe it’s the only one left in England. A few others used to exist but those ended a couple of decades ago.”
“I’m sure I must have heard about it somewhere.” Once again, her mother flicked his remark away as if it were a bothersome gnat. “Anyway, I’ve never been to Sanforth. That much I do remember.”
“I haven’t either,” Vanessa chimed in, “but I think I remember reading about the festival. It takes place on some saint’s day—”
“St. Brice’s,” Sheridan said.
“Right. And isn’t it just one bull that the populace chase through the town?”
Sheridan nodded, although now he was regarding her oddly. “The practice began over six hundred years ago. I’m told that outsiders keep trying to put an end to it, but the town resists that. I’ve actually never seen it myself.”
“I just figured out where I heard about it!” Vanessa exclaimed. “It was in The Sports and Pastimes of the People of England: Including the Rural and Domestic Recreations, May Games, Mummeries, Shows, Processions, Pageants, and Pompous Spectacles, from the Earliest Period to the Present Time. By Mr. Strutt.”
“Good God, you remember that verbose title?” Sheridan asked.
“Not exactly.” She pointed to the nearby bookshelf. “I merely have very good eyesight and can read the title from here.”
“Ah.” Sheridan smiled at her. “You must have good eyesight indeed. I can only make out a few of the words.”
“Well, I did read the book from cover to cover. So I was bound to recognize the title.”
Her mother shook her head. “Don’t let her fool you. She remembers all sorts of things like that. Makes me dizzy.”
“You’re missing my point, Mama. The reason you remembered about the bull running was because of me. I must have read that part to you. Or told you of it or something.”
“No, indeed. Not sure how I knew about it, but it wasn’t from a book. That much I’m certain.”
Sheridan seemed to find that very interesting, though Vanessa couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. Why did he care whether her mother had ever been to Sanforth? For that matter, why did he care about Mama having had her debut at the same time as his mother? He seemed rather fixed on figuring out Mama.
Vanessa wanted to believe it was because he needed to determine how to get around her mother’s bias against him