my way to an assignation nor leaving one, but merely visiting one of the shops in the village.’
Giles’s expression was deliberately noncommittal as he looked at Lily Seagrove between narrowed lids, noting the flash of temper in those moss-green eyes and the colour in her cheeks as she answered his query. Quite why he felt the need to constantly challenge this particular young woman he had not the slightest idea, but the result, he noted—those flashing green eyes and the flush in her cheeks—was more than pleasing to a gentleman’s eyes.
His mouth thinned with displeasure at the realisation that it was more than pleasing to his own eye! ‘You have completed your purchases, and are now on your way back to the vicarage, perhaps?’
‘I am.’ She tilted her chin, as if daring him to challenge her claim.
Giles nodded tersely. ‘As I am on my way to visit with your father, I shall walk along with you.’
No ‘please’ or ‘may I,’ Lily noted irritably, just that arrogant ‘I shall.’
But it was an arrogance she knew from experience it would do no good to challenge. Just as she knew it would serve no purpose for her to enquire as to the reason he intended visiting with her father; it would certainly be too much to hope that Giles Montague was finding the annual celebrations at Castonbury Park too much of a bother, after all.
‘By all means, my lord.’ Lily nodded graciously before continuing her walk without sparing a second glance to see whether or not Giles Montague fell into step beside her.
Which was not to say she was not completely aware of his tall and dominating presence beside her as he easily matched his much longer strides to her shorter ones. Or the speculation with which several of her neighbours eyed them as they passed, even as they curtseyed or bowed in recognition of the man at her side.
Lily had no doubt those curious eyes continued to watch the two of them as they strolled along the village street towards the vicarage. ‘His Grace is a little better, I trust?’ After several minutes of suffering what she knew would be the avid speculation of her neighbours, Lily felt self-conscious enough to feel forced into making some sort of conversation. She turned to glance up curiously at Giles Montague when he did not immediately reply. A frown had appeared between his eyes, his mouth had become a thinned line and his jaw was tight. All of which Lily found most unreassuring. ‘My lord?’ she prompted uncertainly.
Lily’s long friendship with Edward had resulted in her having spent a considerable amount of time at Castonbury Park itself, and so she had often chanced to meet the Duke of Rothermere whilst in Edward’s company. She had come to know His Grace as a pleasant and charming man, one who was capable of showing a fondness for his children. He had a genuine affection for Lily’s father which had included Mrs Seagrove when she was alive and, as a consequence, Lily too. Certainly there had never been any sign in either His Grace’s speech or demeanour towards her to imply that he considered her as anything less than the true daughter of Mr and Mrs Seagrove.
Unlike the grim-faced gentleman now striding along so confidently beside her!
But that did not infringe upon Lily’s regard for the Duke of Rothermere. The poor man had suffered so these past years, losing first Lord James and then Edward, that it was no wonder he had withdrawn from the world to become but a shell of his former robust and charming self!
‘You are alarming me with your delay in making a reply, my lord,’ she said.
In truth, Giles was not sure what to say in answer to Lily’s query. ‘My father seems much the same in physical health as when I arrived three days ago.’
Which was to say his father was both frail in stature and looking so much older than his sixty-odd years. The duke did have periods when his vagueness of purpose did not seem quite so noticeable, when he appeared to listen attentively as Giles told him of the work he had instructed to be carried out about the estate. But it had quickly become apparent to Giles that it was a feigned interest.
This was worrying enough in itself, but was made all the more so because the legalities of his father’s successor were still in a state of flux. His brother Jamie had been swept away in a Spanish river, and his body never recovered. It was not an unusual occurrence admittedly—so many English soldiers had died during the years of fighting Napoleon, never to be seen or heard of again by their families. But, in the case of the heir to the Duke of Rothermere, the lack of physical evidence had resulted in a delay with regard to the naming of Giles as the duke’s successor.
His father’s strangeness aside, there was something not quite … right about the current state of affairs at Castonbury Park, and now that he was here Giles fully intended, before too much more time had elapsed, to find out exactly what it was.
Perhaps he would know more when he’d had a chance to thoroughly review the estate account books which Everett, the estate manager, was having delivered to him later today.
Lily frowned at Giles’s reply. ‘I believe my own father had hoped that your return might bring about some improvement to His Grace.’
Giles’s mouth twisted humourlessly. ‘No doubt you did not share Mr Seagrove’s optimism?’
‘I, my lord?’ She raised surprised brows. ‘I cannot say that I had given the subject of your return any thought whatsoever.’
Giles found himself chuckling huskily. ‘I am finding your lack of a good opinion of me to be a great leveller, Miss Seagrove!’ he explained as she regarded him questioningly.
Lily, finding herself once again distracted by the difference a smile made to Giles Montague’s countenance, now felt the warmth of colour enter her cheeks at his drawled rebuke. ‘I am sure I meant you no insult, my lord.’
He continued to smile ruefully. ‘Perhaps that is what I find most telling of all!’
Lily gave a pained frown. ‘I merely meant, as your return to Castonbury was in no way assured, that I tried not to—that I did not consider at any length what effect, if any,’ she said, her cheeks now ablaze, ‘it might have upon His Grace’s health or the people here.’ Only, she recalled guiltily, in regard to how selfish it was of her to wish that Giles Montague might never return at all!
This, she now accepted, had been a childish hope on her part; Lord Giles Montague was now, to all intents and purposes, the future Duke of Rothermere, so it was only to be expected that he would come back to Castonbury Park, if only for the purpose of ensuring that his future inheritance continued to flourish.
‘I believe you have instructed a great deal of work to be done about the estate …?’ Indeed, village gossip had been rife with nothing else but the ‘doings of Lord Giles’ these past two days.
He raised dark brows. ‘Work, I might remind you, which you yourself pointed out to me only days ago, was in need of my immediate attention.’
‘I was not criticising, my lord—’
‘No?’ He looked down at her.
‘Certainly not.’ Lily had absolutely no doubt that Giles Montague would make a very capable Duke of Rothermere when that time came, his years as an officer in the army having given him an air of authority totally in keeping with the lofty position. Yes, the arrogantly disdainful Giles Montague was more than suited to becoming the future Duke of Rothermere. Lily simply could not see herself remaining in Castonbury once that dreadful day came.
Quite
