eyes widened. ‘Is His Grace well enough for a carriage ride?’
‘He has seemed much improved this past day or so,’ Mrs Stratton assured. ‘I am sure that a change of scenery will be far more beneficial to him than sitting alone in his rooms day after day, and allowing his nerves to get the better of him.’
Possibly, but it was only the end of April, and the chill wind blew off the Derbyshire hills still. ‘My father has been invited to dine with His Grace and Lord Giles this evening.’ Indeed, the invitation to dine at Castonbury Park this evening had been the only thing Mr Seagrove had been willing to impart to Lily concerning Giles Montague’s visit to him two days ago!
The older woman frowned slightly. ‘I understood the invitation was for both you and Mr Seagrove …’
It had been. It still was. But as Lily could not imagine Giles Montague really wanting to spend an evening in her company—as she had no desire to spend an evening in his—she had been sure that her inclusion in the invitation had only been made out of politeness to her father, and as such she had intended making the excuse of having a headache this evening when it came time to leave for Castonbury Park.
But having heard Smithins’s warning just now, perhaps she should reconsider that decision?
‘I really should pay no mind to Smithins if I were you, Lily.’ Mrs Stratton gave a rueful grimace as she seemed to read Lily’s hesitation, even if she had misunderstood the reason for it. ‘I am afraid he has been allowed to become far too overbearingly protective this past year where His Grace is concerned.’ She gave a weary sigh. ‘I have long been forced to listen to his ravings for one reason or another.’
That may be so, but Lily seriously doubted that those ‘ravings’ had ever been about Lord Giles Montague before this week, or involved an accusation of him ‘succeeding in killing’ his own father. ‘Do you think there is any basis for truth in Mr Smithins’s concerns for His Grace?’
‘None at all,’ the housekeeper dismissed briskly. ‘Lord Giles has always been the most dutiful of sons.’
Had it been ‘dutiful’ of Giles Montague to remain in London these past nine months when he had been needed here at Castonbury Park? Was it ‘dutiful’ of him, now that he had at last returned, to be seen to take his father, a man who was obviously fragile in health, out on a carriage ride? Admittedly, he now seemed to be taking a belated interest in the estate, but—
‘Besides, you will see for yourself this evening how His Grace fares.’ Mrs Stratton smiled. ‘And I know that Monsieur André is greatly looking forward to preparing some more of the meringues after I told him how much you enjoyed them when you were here last,’ she added with a twinkle in her eye.
Lily felt the colour warm her cheeks at Mrs Stratton’s more than obvious attempt at matchmaking. She had only seen the new French chef once or twice since his arrival at Castonbury Park, although she had noticed on those occasions that he was handsome. Even so, Lily very much doubted that even a French chef would be willing to overlook her questionable pedigree.
‘But I am sure you did not come here to discuss this evening’s menu with me …?’ Mrs Stratton prompted lightly.
Lily gave herself a mental shake as she was reminded of her reason for calling. ‘I was in the village and was waylaid by Mr Crutchley as I passed the butcher’s shop. He said he has not yet received an order from you for the traditional pig to roast.’ The ladies of the village would no doubt enjoy partaking of the delicacies provided by Monsieur André, but the men were all of hardy farming stock, and as such required a heartier repast for their tea than the sandwiches and cakes the French chef would be providing.
The housekeeper looked slightly perplexed. ‘I understood from Lord Giles that he intended to talk to Mr Crutchley personally.’
‘Lord Giles?’ Lily repeated slowly. ‘But … I do not understand.’
Mrs Stratton smiled indulgently. ‘I believe the pig roast is to be his own gift to the celebrations.’
‘I—Well. That is very generous of him.’ Lily still frowned her puzzlement.
‘Indeed,’ the housekeeper agreed warmly. ‘He has stated that he also intends to provide the liquid refreshment for the gentlemen.’
To say Lily was surprised at Giles Montague’s personal largesse would be putting it mildly; as far as she was aware, he had not shown any interest before now in the welfare and happiness of the people living in the village of Castonbury.
But he had not become his father’s heir until Lord Jamie’s demise either.
Was she being completely fair to Giles Montague, Lily wondered as she walked back to the vicarage, or was she perhaps allowing her own prejudice of feelings towards that gentleman to colour her thoughts and emotions?
Thankfully she had not seen Giles Montague again in the past two days, but he had been the subject of much discussion in the village.
She had heard from several of the women how their eldest sons had been taken on for the summer months so that the fallow fields at the Park might be prepared for a winter crop. Another had commented that her carpenter husband had been employed to effect repairs upon several of the barns to ready them for the storing of the harvest to come. A builder had been seen up on the roof of Castonbury Park itself to repair several tiles that had fallen off in the severe winter storms.
All of it was work that Giles Montague had apparently instructed to be carried out.
Perhaps her criticisms of him had had some effect, after all—
No, a more likely explanation was that Giles Montague already considered himself master here!
Could there, after all, be some truth in Smithins’s earlier warning to Mrs Stratton regarding the Duke of Rothermere? Was Giles Montague deliberately endangering his father’s already precarious health, in the hopes that he might become the presumptive Duke of Rothermere sooner rather than later?
Lily had no answer to those questions. One thing she was certain of, however; she no longer intended suffering so much as the twinge of a headache to prevent her from dining at Castonbury Park this evening!
‘I must thank you for sending John and the carriage for us, Lord Giles.’ Mr Seagrove beamed as Lumsden showed the vicar and his daughter into the formal salon that evening. He was wearing his usual clerical black, his daughter looking slender and graceful in a gown of deep blue. ‘I am afraid my open carriage is not at all suitable for going out in the evenings, and our horse now so old that he is not inclined to go out after dark either.’
‘Not at all,’ Giles drawled dismissively. ‘I could not risk Miss Seagrove suffering a chill.’
A chill which was all in those moss-green eyes, Giles discovered with a frown as he bent formally over Lily’s gloved hand before glancing up to see her looking back at him with icy coldness. Not a particularly good omen for what Giles had hoped would be an evening free of the tensions he had been forced to suffer earlier today whilst out visiting with his father!
‘Besides which,’ he added dismissively as he stepped back from the immediate glare of those chilling green eyes, ‘my father and I took the carriage out earlier today, so it was no bother for John to set out again this evening.’
‘And how did your father enjoy his carriage
