Who Wants to Marry a Duke - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,93
be family friends. Your friends and ours.”
“Why not just ask me for a list of my current friends?”
“It’s more complicated than that, Mother,” he said irritably.
“Isn’t it always with you?”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Of all my sons, you have most been the one to keep secrets.”
“Nonsense. Grey is—”
“He’s secretive, too, I suppose, but he thought he was protecting me by not telling me what his uncle was putting him through years ago. You’re just secretive in general. About everything.” She eyed him askance. “And now there’s this sudden engagement. Why do I feel there’s more to it than what you’re saying? I know the five of you are up to something, but no one will tell me what it is.”
“We’re not up to—” He fought for calm. “Can you give me the lists or not, Mother?”
She smoothed her skirts with a primness that belied her backbone of steel. “I’m sure I have them somewhere. I packed up everything from Grey’s christening and stowed it in the Carymont attic after his father died. Lord knows I didn’t want to keep anything from my wedding to that man.” Her voice softened. “Of course, I kept everything from my wedding to your father and the birth of you two. That’s in the Rosethorn attic.”
“Then I’ll look for that one there, and Grey can look for the other at Carymont.”
She got a faraway look in her eye. “I loved your father so much. I want for you and Miss Norley what he and I had. If I’ve learned anything through my three marriages, it’s the importance of trust and affection and real love. Your father meant everything to me. I swear, if I hadn’t had you and Gwyn to cuddle and care for, I don’t know how I would have survived the loss of him.”
In the past few years, whenever she started talking like this, he would make an excuse to leave. It had been so hard to hear her gush about the man Thorn had thought was betraying her with another woman. But now he wanted his questions answered. And this time he wouldn’t avoid the truth.
“Mother,” he said, “I heard a rumor some years ago that Father had been hurrying to London when he had his accident, because he was going to see his mistress. Do you think it’s true? And if not, do you know who started the rumor and why?”
Astonishment lit her face. “Lord help me,” she then said with a snort, “that bit of nonsense has been going around since before I married your stepfather. Of course it’s not true. Your father was hurrying to fetch a London accoucheur for me.”
“But he never made it there.”
“No. The last time I saw him, he kissed me and said he would return as soon as he could. But he never did.” With tears welling in her eyes, she cupped Thorn’s cheek. “By morning I had you and Gwyn in my arms. The constable told me about his accident later that day.”
The fact that there were conflicting stories about his father’s reasons for racing to London nagged at him. “And you’re certain our father wasn’t going to London for . . . some personal reason.”
“Like a female friend?” she said archly. “I’m certain. The woman people were touting as his mistress was my good friend Eliza. The whole thing was ludicrous—your father never even liked her, always thought her a shameless flirt. It was one of the reasons he didn’t court her for long. Besides, she was here at my bedside when your father died. Obviously, he wasn’t going to London to meet her.”
“Apparently not.” But as far as he was concerned, Lady Hornsby still wasn’t eliminated as someone who might have arranged his father’s murder. She could have damaged his father’s carriage at any point while she was at Rosethorn, perhaps to get back at him for not offering for her.
Hell, his father could have taken her as a mistress and then broken that off with her before marrying Mother. Lady Hornsby could have been simmering with anger over it all that time.
His mother sniffed. “Why on earth are you dredging up this stuff from my past? What brought this on? Between you asking for guest lists and Sheridan wanting to know what his father had been up to when he died, you both have me scratching my head.”
“I promise, Mother, we will tell you all eventually, when we’ve pieced everything together. But in the