The Wicked Lord Montague

Giles Montague’s return had now resulted in the whole of the estate and household staff being ‘swept off their feet,’ as he began to issue orders and instructions for the work he considered needed to be done before Castonbury Park opened its gates to the village for the well-dressing celebrations the following week.

‘Oh, I hope I did not cause offence, Lily!’ Daisy’s embarrassed expression revealed that she was aware of the things said in the village concerning Lily’s true parents. ‘It’s just that Agnes said she saw one of the pretty Gypsy caravans on the other side of the lake yesterday. And the Gypsy—the Romany, Mrs Lovell,’ she corrected with a self-conscious giggle, ‘is so wonderful at telling fortunes, that I hoped it was her. It’s my afternoon off today, so maybe I’ll take a walk over that way and see for myself—’

Lily also wondered if the caravan might belong to Mrs Lovell, that elderly lady usually arriving at Castonbury several weeks ahead of her tribe, and so giving her the opportunity to go about the village selling the clothes pegs and baskets she had made through the winter months. Her fortune-telling had also been a feature of the well-dressing celebrations ever since Lily could remember. Whether or not those fortunes ever came true did not seem to matter to the people in the village, as they, like Daisy, simply enjoyed the possibility that they might—

Lily’s wandering thoughts came to an abrupt end as she heard the sound of raised voices from down the hallway. Or rather, a single raised voice….

‘—do not say I did not warn you all! And do not come crying to me when he succeeds in killing His Grace!’ There was the sound of a door being forcibly slammed.

‘Uh-oh, it’s Mr Smithins, and he sounds as if he’s on the warpath again!’ Daisy whispered in alarm as she clutched Lily’s arm. ‘I’d better get back to me polishing!’ She beat a hasty retreat back to the kitchen just as Smithins appeared at the end of the hallway, the scowl on his face evidence of his bad temper.

A short, thin and balding man, he possessed an elegance of style about his demeanour and dress that some might consider foppish. Lily had observed that he was also something of a despot in regard to the other household servants at Castonbury Park, considering himself far above them in his position as personal valet to the Duke of Rothermere. Hence Daisy’s hurried departure back to her work in the kitchen; Smithins was perfectly capable of boxing the young maid’s ears if he felt so inclined!

His scowl deepened as he strode down the hallway and caught sight of Lily watching him.

She grimaced self-consciously as she felt herself forced into speech. ‘Is anything amiss, Mr Smithins?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Mark my words, it will all end in tears!’ he muttered as he pushed past her before continuing on his way without apology.

Lily felt slightly unnerved as she turned to look at the valet, but more by his angry claim of some unnamed person ‘killing His Grace’ than his rude behaviour to her just now. What on earth could have happened for Smithins to—

‘Ah, Lily,’ Mrs Stratton sighed wearily as she appeared in the doorway of her parlour and saw Lily standing outside in the hallway. ‘Do please come in,’ she invited softly.

Lily hesitated. ‘I have obviously called at a bad time …’

‘Not at all,’ the older woman assured wryly. ‘Smithins is volatile of temperament, I am afraid,’ she continued as Lily slowly entered the cosy parlour.

‘But … he seemed so vehement …?’

Mrs Stratton shook her head. ‘He is merely annoyed because Lord Giles refuses to heed his advice concerning His Grace.’

Lord Giles? Smithins’s warning just now had been a reference to Giles Montague’s behaviour in regard to his father?

The housekeeper sighed. ‘His latest concern seems to be the carriage ride His Grace is to take with Lord Giles this afternoon.’

Lily’s 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!