Undercover Duke

Mother was dealing with a sick infant and husband, so she barely got to see her guests. For the second party, she was in labor. So she was not in a position to know where everyone was.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Gwyn muttered.
“What?”
“Not in a position . . . Never mind.” She cocked her head. “I still say if you bring Mama, she can get Lady Eustace to reminisce with her about those house parties more naturally than if it’s you trying to elicit information.”
“I suppose.” He would never admit it to Gwyn, but he disliked the idea of chatting with Vanessa with his mother anywhere nearby. Bad enough he had to do it with her mother monitoring the conversation.
But Gwyn did have a point. He wasn’t supposed to be there for Vanessa. He was supposed to be chatting with her mother. If he could call whatever that woman did “chatting.”
Perhaps he should turn this on Gwyn. She had a part to play in these investigations, too.
“So,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, “have you spoken to Lady Hornsby yet?”
Gwyn scowled. “No. But not for lack of trying. She hasn’t been ‘at home’ a single day since we started this.”
“That in itself is interesting.”
“I think so, too. I was planning to try again tomorrow.”
Before he could comment on that, the servants came in with a feast worthy of a king. Or rather, a very enceinte queen. Gwyn’s face lit up, and she barely waited until they left before she began loading a plate with the oddest combination of ingredients he could imagine.
He dropped into the chair opposite her and took an apple tart. “Do you think I’m overreacting with this investigation?” He took a bite of tart. They really were very good. “Is it possible all the deaths were exactly what they seemed for so many years—borne of accidents or illnesses? That they have no connection to each other beyond the weird coincidence that they all involved someone close to Mother?”
“You are not overreacting in the least.” Gwyn had a bite of cake, then a bite of pickle. “We already have proof that Grey’s father was poisoned. For all we know, the villainess poisoned Grey, too, but he survived it. We also know that the note supposedly written by Joshua to Father, which lured Father to his death, wasn’t actually in Joshua’s hand. And we know that Elias, who might very well have written those notes, was hired to do all kinds of mischief that nearly got a number of us killed. Then he was poisoned in prison. That is clearly a pattern of villainy and not mere coincidence.”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .”
She nodded sagely at him as she cut two thin slices of cake and one of pickle, then made a sort of sandwich of them.
“That looks vile,” he said.
“It does, doesn’t it?” She cut a bit of her “sandwich” and ate it. “But it’s surprisingly delicious.” She licked some crumbs from her lips. “Is Mama right? Do you really like Vanessa?”
He tensed. “Of course I like her. I always have. She’s a perfectly amiable woman.” Who kissed like a seductress.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“Perhaps so, but that’s all I’m admitting to.” At least to Gwyn, anyway.
Now if only he could convince himself of it.
Over the next two days, Sheridan dutifully went to the Eustace house in Queen Square at the proper time to pay calls. Both days he tried delving into Lady Eustace’s whereabouts during the house parties, but she continued to be vague and unhelpful. His questions also seemed to bewilder Vanessa. He feared he might reveal his purpose before he actually found out the truth.
So on the third day, he reluctantly followed Gwyn’s suggestion and asked his mother to join him when he went to pay his call. She was gracious about agreeing to do so, which made him wish he’d asked her before. What had he been afraid of?
This time when he went, it was after five P.M., when calls from family and close friends were expected to be made. Lady Eustace might not have had anything to do with his mother in decades, but the two women were still related through Grey’s father. So he supposed that made them intimates for life.
When they arrived, they discovered Sir Noah already there visiting his sister. Great. Now Sheridan had to watch his mother flirting with Vanessa’s uncle. At least he had Vanessa to chat with. As they had on the previous two days, they discussed everything from gardening—she enjoyed it and was knowledgeable about hybrids—to horses—she rode a great deal—to books. Unbeknownst to him, she was a great reader, and though her choices weren’t the same as his, they had a mutual enjoyment of poetry. Clearly, it was Juncker’s skill as a poet that had drawn her.
The thought soured him. She was simply too fine a woman for the joking, theatrical likes of Juncker. Today she wore a cheery gown of the same hue he’d been told by Gwyn was “evening primrose.” Whatever it was, the dark yellow made her blue eyes sparkle and her skin light up.
Or perhaps that was just how he saw her—sparkling and alight. Damn, he needed to be careful about that. Especially since her captivating smile turned him hard in all the wrong places.
He mustn’t think about her in that way. Yet he did, blast it.
The only solution was to focus on the reason for their visit—to get Lady Eustace talking. She actually seemed surprised and pleased to have Mother pay her a call. Unfortunately, his mother seemed disinclined to reminisce much about the past with Lady Eustace. Mother also seemed to be taking her time steering the conversation in the direction he wanted. He would have done so himself, but he couldn’t find an opening.
So once the two women were done with broader subjects of mutual interest, their conversation lapsed into a heavy silence. Sheridan had coached his mother in what to