Page 8 of The Lady Was Lying (Greydon #3)

“He hated society. Absolutely abhorred it,” she added.

“The chances of encountering him seemed small, and I hoped your resemblance to him wouldn’t be noticed.

It’s been thirty years. Surely age has changed him, and legally,”—she shot to her feet and started pacing, her movements agitated—“you are the duke. The Countess of Greydon can’t know the truth.

Not for certain. There wasn’t a countess at the time, and the only person I ever told was the duke.

Joseph never knew of your existence, so there’s no way he could have told anyone.

Our secret is safe, regardless of what the countess thinks. ”

His mother seemed to be trying to convince herself, and James didn’t want to disagree with her, especially when she was so clearly distressed.

Unfortunately, rumors could be just as destructive as truths, and wondering what the countess was going to say or do would drive him mad.

It was imperative that he approach her and the earl privately so they could have a serious conversation.

He wasn’t above begging for their discretion, if necessary.

“I’ll have to call on Greydon as soon as possible,” he murmured to himself.

“No. You cannot tell anyone,” his mother interrupted, eyes wide with horror.

“If that is your intention, I must warn you against it. I recommend we leave London immediately. We can host a house party later in the year. Invite eligible women and their families. You can select a wife from the safety of Bramblewood.” Her hands fluttered in the air as she repeated the same suggestion she’d offered before they left.

“I should never have agreed to let you come to London. What was I thinking ?”

Even though it wouldn’t solve anything, he suddenly had an intense need for a drink. He didn’t imbibe often, but the urge to wallow until he was numb was too strong to ignore. Before he could stand, there was a scratch at the door.

“Come in,” he called, rising to his feet.

The door opened, and the butler slid silently into the room.

“Your Grace,” Griggs said tonelessly. “Lord Greydon and Lord Danford are here to see you. They are waiting in the receiving room.”

“Danford?” His mother swayed from left to right, and this time, since she was on her feet, she started to crumple.

James rushed forward, barely catching her before she hit the floor.

He pulled her limp form against his chest, staggered a few steps to the chaise lounge, and settled her against the cushions.

Griggs appeared over his shoulder, smoothly thrusting smelling salts under her nose, and after a second, her eyes shot open.

“We must return home at once,” she declared, trying to sit up. She only made it part way before swaying and collapsing against the cushions. Her distress was palpable, and James had no idea how to ease it. He couldn’t undo the past, and he had no idea whether he could control the future.

As calmly as he could manage, he tried to reassure her that he would handle everything. “I must speak with Greydon and Danford. I will figure out what they know and then decide what to do from there. Meanwhile, you’ve had a shock. You should rest. Griggs will call for a maid to assist you.”

“But—”

He held up a hand. “We will talk about this again later. You do not need to worry. I will do everything in my power to keep the truth quiet and to protect us.” It might turn out to be an empty promise, but he would do his best.

“You cannot?—”

“I have no choice.” Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room.

Hands unsteady and heart pounding, he descended the staircase.

Confrontation was never pleasant, but the possibility of what might happen when he asked Danford and Greydon to keep his secrets made his stomach churn.

They were strangers with no reason to protect him, and while his title might be more powerful than theirs, he was an outsider with few friends and even fewer connections.

The possibility that Danford was related to him in some capacity, possibly a cousin, was almost guaranteed, but would it be enough to inspire loyalty? Or would it instead inspire hate? Had Joseph ever married? Did James have brothers or sisters? Would they despise him without ever knowing him?

Pausing at the bottom of the staircase, he wondered exactly how he could explain what his mother had told him without making everything worse.

“Gentleman,” he said from the doorway of the receiving room.

Greydon moved toward him, a tight smile on his face, while Danford remained in his peripheral. James resisted the urge to turn and study the other man.

“Your Grace,” Greydon said, “I apologize for barging in, we?—”

“Perhaps you could join me in my study?” Privacy seemed essential for the discussion they were about to have. He refused to learn his fate under the watchful eye of his servants.

Greydon nodded, and without acknowledging Danford at all, James silently led them down the corridor. It took all his willpower to keep himself from looking back and searching for similarities between himself and Danford.

The two men followed him into his study, and he gestured toward the cluster of chairs near the windows and then went to the sideboard.

He didn’t ask if anyone wanted a drink, simply splashed a healthy amount of brandy in three glasses and wordlessly passed them out.

Greydon toyed with his glass, spinning it in his palm, but Danford swallowed the contents in a single swallow.

James couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer.

He blinked once and then settled his gaze directly on Danford.

The resemblance between them wasn’t particularly strong.

Danford was taller and thicker with darker eyes and unruly curly brown hair that bore no similarity to his lighter straighter hair.

In relief, James lowered himself into a chair across from them and tossed the contents of his glass straight down his throat.

The brandy burned, but not nearly as much as the silence. Why weren’t they saying anything? Was he supposed to ask why they had called? Or was he supposed to tell them what he had just learned?

Life had not adequately prepared him to navigate the conversation he needed to have, so the silence continued to stretch uncomfortably.

Greydon glanced briefly at Danford, and James realized he was still staring at the other man.

He hastily averted his gaze as Greydon finally spoke.

“You’ve probably already guessed why we’re here. ”

James didn’t want to feign ignorance because it seemed wrong somehow to pretend that he didn’t understand what had happened yesterday. At the same time, it would be foolish to reveal more than necessary before he’d worked out a strategy.

“Your countess believes I bear resemblance to her father,” he said.

“Indeed.” Greydon chuckled. “She is quite adamant that you are his very image. It was all she could talk about this morning. She insisted I introduce her brother to you so he could offer validation.”

Danford did not offer validation. He didn’t speak at all, so James asked, “Does she have a theory?”

“She has several. Each more outlandish than the last.”

James was spared from having to ask what they were when Greydon switched his attention to Danford. “Well?”

Danford remained quiet.

“Well?” James repeated, raising his eyebrow.

Danford finally looked directly at him, staring in a way that was completely unnerving, as if he could see straight into James’ soul.

“I thought she must be exaggerating or misremembering our father, but I shouldn’t have doubted her memory.

The resemblance between you and him is more than a little shocking.

There must be a reasonable explanation, but I cannot think what it might be.

” He inhaled and then exhaled slowly and deliberately.

“The truth is, I don’t know if it’s my place to ask, and I’m even less sure I want the answer. ”

James needed answers whether he wanted them or not. Thankfully, Danford’s honesty made his decision on what to disclose easier. There was just one thing he wanted to know before he explained. “Can I ask about your father?”

“Of course.” Danford paused. “He passed away a few years back. It was soon after he inherited the viscountcy. Before he became viscount, he was entirely dedicated to the church and the transition was hard for him.”

“What was his name?” James asked.

“Before he became viscount, he was Reverend Joseph Hart.”

James’ world tilted.

His biological father was dead. The man was nothing to him, and yet it was difficult to swallow around the lump in his throat.

His hand rose to cover his mouth, as if it could somehow stem the wave of emotion that threatened to overflow.

Both Greydon and Danford leaned forward as if he required comfort.

He didn’t.

Or maybe he did.

He dropped his hand into his lap and forced a breath through his mouth.

Out and in. Out and in. Danford was not his cousin as he’d incorrectly assumed.

The other man was his brother . He had so many questions.

Hundreds. Thousands. They crowded his thoughts, begging to be spilled, but one stood out above the others.

Could he reveal that Reverend Joseph Hart was his father too?

Would Danford knowing the truth make everything easier? Or harder?

Standing side by side in a crowded room, no one would suspect they were related.

If he wanted, James could feign innocence and brazen his way through the remainder of the conversation without confirming or denying anything.

The only person alive who knew the truth with absolute certainty was his mother, and she would be more than happy to pretend that she’d never even met Joseph Hart.