“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 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.