Page 7 of The Lady Was Lying (Greydon #3)

Chapter Three

B efore James could venture out again, he had no choice but to confront his mother.

Joining her in her private sitting room, he allowed her to steer the conversation while she poured the tea.

She seemed much improved as she chattered about how disappointed she was to have missed his first ball.

He was loathe to extinguish the slight twinkle in her eye, especially since it had been so long since he’d seen it.

But when she asked if anyone had caught his interest, he ruthlessly ignored the memory of the woman in the garden, took a deep breath, and said, “I need you to tell me about my real father.”

He meant for his voice to sound gentle, but his words were, perhaps, too abrupt, because her hands flew into the air and the cup she had been holding clattered onto the table.

Tea soaked the tablecloth and dripped onto the floor.

“Oh my,” she whispered, her face ashen and her expression pained. With trembling hands, she dabbed ineffectively at the spill with a handkerchief.

Reaching out to still her frantic movements, he said, “Mother. Stop. Don’t worry about the tea. Can you just…tell me?”

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered. “Your father…was…the Duke of Avondale.”

“Please don’t lie to me. I already know the duke wasn’t my real father.

” James spoke calmly and deliberately as he recalled the conversation that had changed his life.

“Before he died, the duke told me he was proud of me, and then he said, ‘I never considered myself particularly lucky, but it was the greatest blessing of my life when you were born. You might not share my blood, but you’ve always held my heart.’ His eyes widened a fraction after he spoke, and he began coughing before he could say anything else.

Over the next few days, his condition worsened, and he never improved enough to explain further.

I might not have been able to question him, but I did not mishear him. ”

“The duke was your father,” she replied frantically.

James didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “He was my father, but another man…”

“No,” she whispered, her face losing even more color as she clenched her skirts.

Her skin was so ashen that if she hadn’t been sitting down, he would have worried that she was going to faint.

Was the truth more painful than he’d expected?

Was his real father a reprobate? “The duke didn’t know what he was saying half the time.

He was delirious at the end. In and out of consciousness.

Completely lucid one second and then lost in memories the next. ”

“ Lost in memories .” He kept his gaze steady. “He might not have been lucid but that doesn’t mean he was wrong. I’ve never seen him more serious.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I noticed the change in you. I thought it was because of his death.”

“I can mourn his loss and lament the secrets he kept.”

“It wasn’t his secret, but he wasn’t supposed to tell you,” she whispered. “We were supposed to take the truth of your paternity to our graves.”

James sucked in a breath at the confirmation of what he’d already known.

Verification was more painful than he’d expected.

It hurt that he’d been lied to. It hurt that he couldn’t predict how the truth would affect his future. But most of all, it hurt that he was never supposed to have known.

His mother twisted her skirts in her hands, crushing the fabric.

“He didn’t want you to know. He’d be so distressed if he were here now.

” Expression desperate, she leaned forward.

“You were his son in every way that mattered, and he made me promise that I’d never tell you the truth. I can’t believe?—”

“He can’t hold you to a promise that he broke, and now that I know, I need you to explain what happened.

” It was probably unfair to ask her when she was obviously so upset, but the situation James found himself in was not his fault, and yet the consequences of it were his to bear.

“Everything will be worse if I’m unprepared when the truth is discovered. ”

“The truth will not be discovered. No one else knows.” She bowed her head and spoke so softly he almost couldn’t make out her words. “I cannot tell you. I cannot .”

Was the truth that awful? Would it sting more than the lie?

“You must” he replied, because it didn’t matter how much the truth hurt. The Countess of Greydon had seen a resemblance between him and her father, and he had to know if they were somehow related. “Last night, the Countess of Greydon looked at me like I was a ghost. She asked?—”

“Greydon?” She let out a shaky breath. “There is no connection between my past and Greydon. He does not know anything. I’m sure of it.”

Was she not listening? “It isn’t the earl I’m concerned about. It is the countess who was asking me questions.”

“The countess?” She grimaced and shook her head slightly. “I know nothing of the countess, but it seems unlikely?—”

“She asked about Cheltenham.”

“Oh.” Pressing her lips together, tears welled in her eyes.

“Oh,” she repeated. “That’s where I grew up.

Danford Manor was the neighboring estate to my childhood home and…

heavens…this is a nightmare. If the countess has a connection to Danford, it’s…

I never wanted…” Tears trickled down her cheeks.

“I don’t want to be the one to tell you what happened. I don’t want you to know .”

“You don’t have a choice. I cannot risk someone knowing what I don’t.”

“No one else knows. But…you’re right.” The tears kept coming, and he reached out to rub her back.

“Coming to London was a risk. That is why I told you not to come. When you refused to listen, I tried as hard as I could to convince myself no one would notice your resemblance to him. He wasn’t active in society, and I assumed the only person we had to worry about was his brother, but they were not close, and the family was scandal-averse, so I didn’t think he’d press, even if he suspected. ”

She was talking in riddles, and James couldn’t figure out his next move until he had a name. “Who is my real father?”

Her hands tightened on her skirt again, but no words left her mouth.

“Mother,” he said. “Please tell me.”

“You’re going to hate me.” She released her skirt to wipe her eyes, and then, with her gaze fixed on the ground, she abruptly started talking.

“His name was Joseph Hart. We had been neighbors all our lives, and…I don’t know…

we were young and foolish. He was destined for the church, and my father wanted me to marry someone with better prospects than a third son.

I didn’t necessarily disagree, but my season had been underwhelming and…

well…I was lonely. We were irresponsible, I guess. Or just too young to know better.

“I had already begun to suspect I was increasing when the duke came to visit my father that summer. Avondale offered for my hand within days of his arrival. He was older but kind, and my parents were overjoyed that I would be a duchess. Before I agreed to the betrothal, I…I felt obligated to confess my situation to him. I begged him to leave without telling anyone, but he insisted he wanted to marry me anyway. I was only eighteen at the time and I…made a choice.”

She covered her watery eyes with her hands. “It was the right choice. I don’t regret it, but I’ll always wish you had never discovered the truth. I don’t want you affected by the decision I made.”

It was too late.

The truth was somewhat less sordid than he expected, although one thing still confused him. “Are you saying the duke married you because you were expecting me?”

“I think so. He didn’t seem surprised when I told him.

It was like he already knew somehow. Or maybe he just hoped.

I don’t know.” Her hands left her face, and she reached out to grip his forearms. “He wanted children, and he couldn’t…

He loved you so much. Even then. He wanted a son more than anything.

He promised me everything if I married him.

For you. For me. He loved us and he gave us a beautiful life. ”

The duke had given them a beautiful life, but it was hard for James to reconcile the man he’d known with the man who had lied to him.

Knowing changed everything, but at the same time, it changed nothing.

His father was already dead, and he had become the duke no matter whether he was supposed to be or not.

“What if I’d been female?” he asked.

“He still would have loved you even if you could never inherit. He wanted a child too much to quibble about gender.” She said it with such certainty that it was impossible to argue. Part of him didn’t even want to.

The fact that he’d been loved was not inconsequential. But neither did it change the fact that everything he had known about his past was false. Why had she walked away from his real father like he didn’t matter? “What happened to Mr. Hart after you left?”

She wiped her tears and shrugged. “Joseph was furious when I told him I was marrying the duke. I guess he thought…I would eventually choose him. He told me I was making a mistake and stomped away. The duke and I left a couple of days later, and I never saw Joseph again.”

“You didn’t try to locate him when I decided to come to London for the season?”

“No. What would I say if I found him? If you happen to venture to London, please ignore your resemblance to my son? ” Her voice sounded listless. Defeated.

“I suppose not,” he responded.

Any contact between Joseph Hart and his mother would be fraught with challenges. It probably made more sense for him to reach out to the other man even though he had no idea what he’d say or how Joseph would respond.