Undercover Duke

say or ask in order to get Lady Eustace talking about the past two house parties. But as usual, Mother never could follow a plan proposed by her children. She always had to go her own way.
“So tell me, Cora,” his mother said. “Is it true that you and Eustace mistreated my eldest son when he lived with you?”
Sheridan stifled a curse. This went far beyond going her own way. This was leaping off a cliff. He looked to Vanessa for help, but she was clearly frozen in shock. Meanwhile, Lady Eustace sat there agape, obviously horrified that Mother would be so direct. And Sir Noah raised his gaze to the heavens as if asking the angels for help in steering this visit into calmer waters.
“Mother,” Sheridan said firmly, “I hardly think this is the time—”
“It’s the only time I have,” she told Sheridan. “I don’t intend to return here again, so this is my only chance to get an answer from this harpy about her wretched behavior toward my firstborn.”
Lady Eustace had gained her wits at last. “I don’t know what Grey has been telling you, but—”
“It took me years to get him to tell me anything,” Mother cut in, obviously not caring that Lady Eustace’s face had turned a peculiar shade of purple. “Even then, I had to deduce the full truth from talking to servants and the like. But that doesn’t explain why you would betray me so. What did I ever do to you to warrant that? Grey was only a child. He deserved better from his aunt and uncle.”
Yes, he had. And though Mother was obviously filled with righteous anger over this, it was pain he saw written large in her face. It tore a hole in him, reminding him of the pain he’d seen in the faces of Helene’s parents.
Family could rip your heart out sometimes.
But his mother wasn’t done. She leaned forward in her chair. “And you were my friend. I entrusted my ten-year-old son to you, because I thought it was good for him to learn how to run the dukedom one day and because I thought, wrongly, that he would be cared for kindly by his uncle and my friend. But now, knowing how your husband chose to treat him—starving him, caning him, trying to steal his birthright from him—I live with guilt every day. I realize that what I did was, in theory, the best thing for his future, that I couldn’t have predicted how Eustace would torment him. Still—”
Sheridan stood. “Mother, we should go.”
His mother shook her head. “I’m not finished.” She fixed Lady Eustace with an icy look. “How do you live with the guilt? What could possibly have made your husband’s behavior acceptable in your eyes? How could you have condoned it?” She tapped her foot impatiently. “Well, have you no answer for me? No plausible excuse? Although I doubt such a thing exists.”
Lady Eustace’s mouth had dropped open, but no sound came out of it. Sir Noah rose and held out his hand to Sheridan’s mother. “It’s such a fine day. Perhaps we should go for a stroll in Queen Square Garden, Duchess.”
“That sounds lovely,” she said, but didn’t take his hand. “First, I’d like a reply from your sister.”
Lady Eustace stood to point her trembling finger toward the parlor door. “Get. Out. Of. My. House.”
Mother rose, too, with a steely glint in her eyes. “Gladly. As soon as you answer my question.”
With a sad expression, Vanessa stood. “She has no answer, I’m afraid, Duchess. Or she would have told me long ago when I first asked.”
“Whose side are you on, girl?” her mother snapped.
“Grey’s,” Vanessa said softly. “Always. Because he had no one who cared in this house but me.”
That cut right through Sheridan’s heart. He’d known Grey had suffered, but the enormity of how his half brother must have felt to be alone in a house with only an infant for a friend hit him hard. Now he understood why his brother hadn’t wanted to return to this place, to be in his aunt’s presence again. How could he?
His mother turned to Sir Noah. “I suppose we might as well take that stroll, sir. That is probably the only answer I will ever get from your sister.”
Sheridan met Vanessa’s gaze. Mother was right about one thing—there was no point in trying to get anything out of Lady Eustace today. “Will you join us on our walk?” he asked Vanessa.
Grimly, she nodded. He couldn’t blame her. He wanted to get away from the warring matrons as soon as possible himself. Although truth be told, he understood his mother’s determination to find out the truth. What had happened to Grey, which he’d only known a small portion of until today, had been unfair and unjust. And even after having repaired her relationship with her eldest son—a relationship torn asunder by forces she hadn’t even known about—Mother still ached that she couldn’t prevent it.
A lump caught in Sheridan’s throat. Father had died without ever knowing why Grey was so distant from them all. One more reason to do his best in finding out who had murdered Father.
The four of them left together, pausing to retrieve hats, bonnets, and greatcoats from the footman in silence, as if departing from a funeral. It was a funeral of sorts, he supposed. It was the death of whatever little had remained of Mother’s friendship with Lady Eustace.
Once they were out on the street in the light of the oil lamps, they headed across to the pretty garden mostly used by residents of the square and their guests. Sir Noah and Sheridan’s mother headed straight to the statue of Queen Anne, but Vanessa tugged at his arm to get him to go down a different path.
When they were out of earshot, she said wryly, “Wasn’t that fun?”
“Allow me to apologize for my mother—” he began.
“Don’t you dare. I admire your mother. She’s fierce in defending her children, but without trampling over those