Castonbury Park 01 - The Wicked Lord Montague

by Carole Mortimer

  Giles had lived all of his life at Castonbury Park, the only hardships he had ever suffered being his years spent abroad fighting the French, and even then his comfort had still been far greater than that of the enlisted men. That the situation might soon change at Castonbury Park, if the family finances did not improve in some way, did not seem so important when Giles considered that Lily had lived all of her young life with a lack of the comforts he had always taken for granted as his right.

  A fact that perhaps went some way to explaining—to excusing—her wish to marry well?

  It certainly rendered Lily’s behaviour in regard to an advantageous marriage as no more ambitious and designing than that of the dozens of young debutantes who appeared in London each Season, having been tutored and polished for the sole purpose of finding themselves a rich or titled husband, preferably both.

  ‘My lord…?’ Lily prompted at his continued silence.

  Giles gave himself a mental shake. ‘I seem to remember you called me “Giles” earlier.’

  ‘Amongst other things, yes.’ Her lips twitched as she repressed a smile.

  ‘Amongst other things,’ he conceded drily. ‘Such as “insufferable” and “crude.” Names, which I am sure you feel no regret at having used in regard to me?’ He frowned darkly.

  Lily knew that at the time he had most certainly deserved them, that Giles was more inclined to judge her on what he believed to be her nature rather than attempting to see her as she truly was. ‘No, I do not regret them in the least. Indeed, your manner towards me since your return to Castonbury has, for the most part, been inexcusable and offensive.’ Her cheeks felt warm as she thought of that single occasion upon which his behaviour—and her own!—had been something else entirely! ‘But— You said something to me…when last we met.’ Lily’s gaze dropped from his at the mention of their time together in the woods. ‘Something which has…troubled me ever since.’

  ‘I said many things to you that day which, as with the things I said to you earlier this evening, may perhaps have been better left unsaid,’ he acknowledged harshly.

  She frowned. ‘But this— It is not the first time that you have said something in a similar vein.’ She looked up at Giles searchingly in the darkness, but the moon was not shining brightly enough this evening for her to be able to discern his features properly. Which was perhaps part of the reason why she felt able to talk with him so frankly…? ‘You implied—seem to be under the misapprehension—that I meant to marry Edward.’

  Lack of light to see by or not, there was no missing the stiffening of Giles shoulders as he straightened before looking down the long length of his nose at her, a nerve visibly pulsing in his clenched jaw.

  ‘I seem to recall we had a more than frank discussion on that very subject a year ago!’

  ‘A conversation which, at the time and since, has left me completely bewildered as to why you should ever have thought I might have desired to marry Edward,’ she owned huskily.

  ‘You would have been a fool not to have wished to marry him when he was the son of a duke!’ he rasped harshly.

  ‘Then I must indeed be a fool,’ Lily murmured ruefully.

  Giles frowned darkly. ‘You are saying that you did not deliberately set out a year ago to entice my brother into offering you marriage?’

  She drew in a sharp breath. ‘That is exactly what I am saying, yes,’ she confirmed softly.

  He gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘Do not make the mistake of thinking me a fool too, Lily—’

  ‘But it is foolish to have believed I could ever have considered taking Edward as my husband,’ she insisted exasperatedly.

  ‘You told me yourself only days ago that you loved Edward.’

  ‘But not in the way one should love a husband,’ Lily denied earnestly. ‘I did love Edward, I love him still, but as my brother. As he loved me as his sister.’

  ‘In that you are completely wrong.’

  ‘No, I am not, Giles, and I must insist you hear me out before you make any more false accusations,’

  she said.

  ‘You must insist…?’ he repeated, steely soft.

  ‘Yes.’ She remained determined in the face of his haughtiness. ‘Edward and I grew up together, played together as children, danced and gossiped together at the local assemblies—usually as to which of the young ladies present was attempting to attract Edward’s interest!’ she acknowledged ruefully. ‘We were as brother and sister, always. And our affection for each other was exactly that, as one sibling for another.’

  Giles stared down at her wordlessly. When he and Edward had spoken on the subject a year ago his brother had declared that he was in love with Lily Seagrove and wished to make her his wife. A marriage Giles had felt no hesitation in firmly advising his brother against.

  Yet, Lily now denied there had ever been such a relationship between herself and Edward, nor had there ever been any suggestion of marriage between them. Because, she claimed, she had loved Edward as a brother, and not as her future husband.

  A truth—if indeed it was the truth!—which would have rendered Giles’s behaviour towards Lily a year ago as completely incomprehensible, and the depth of his lovemaking, and offer to make her his mistress three days ago, as truly scandalous!

  But it could not be the truth—could it? Edward had been so certain that he was in love with Lily, that he wished to make her his wife, and surely no man could be that certain of his feelings if he had not received some sort of encouragement from the lady whom he professed to love?

  Besides, Lily had returned the intimacy of Giles’s lovemaking three days ago, before then talking of the scandal which would ensue if they had been seen by anyone. And Giles had certainly seen her disappearing into the woods earlier today with Judah Lovell!

  No, Lily’s actions proved that she was—that she had to be!—exactly the devious young woman Giles had always thought her, and that this claim of innocence on her part was just a deliberate attempt to bewitch him into believing her lies. ‘It makes a very pretty story, Lily,’ he acknowledged derisively. ‘But it does not stand against all evidence to the contrary.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘What evidence?’

  His mouth twisted mockingly. ‘Edward himself told me of the love he felt for you—’

  ‘I have told you—’

  ‘—and of his intention of asking you to become his wife,’ Giles continued harshly. ‘A marriage proposal I advised most strongly against, I assure you,’ he added scathingly.

  Lily felt the colour drain from her cheeks even as she stared up at Giles, sure he could not be telling her the truth, that he must just be saying these things to further hurt and confuse her. She and Edward had only ever shared a friendship. A friendship Lily had treasured all the more for its not being in any way romantic, and so never necessitating her to be anything other than herself when in Edward’s company. Edward could not have told his brother that he was in love with her and wanted to marry her. She—

  She had not loved Edward in that way, certainly, but was it possible that Edward could have been in love with her? Enough, and in such a way, as he really had told Giles of his wish to make her his wife?

  Giles certainly seemed convinced this was the case. Just as his disapproval of such a match, and his conviction that Lily had used her feminine wiles in order to ensnare Edward, would also explain the hateful things Giles had said to her a year ago.

  It would also go a long way towards explaining his less than respectful behaviour towards her—his scandalous behaviour towards her!—since his return to Castonbury ten days ago.

  Could it really be true that Edward had loved her, not as a sister but as a woman? To the extent that he had wished to marry her and make her his wife…?

  Certainly Edward had never shown any interest in the young ladies who lived locally, and who always made such a fuss of him at the assemblies or if they happened to meet in the village. But Lily had always assumed that to be because Edward preferred the more
sophisticated young ladies to be found during his visits to London, and her own lack of interest in any romantic attachment between the two of them merely another reason Edward had liked to spend so much time with her whenever he was at Castonbury.

  But what if she had been wrong? What if she was the one who had misunderstood, and Edward’s disinterest in those other young ladies had been because he actually preferred to be with Lily for another reason entirely than mere friendship—

  No!

  It was not— It could not be true! It was impossible for Lily even to consider the possibility that for all of those years Edward had desired her as a man desires a woman. The very same desire Giles had shown for her three days ago…

  Lily could not bear to think of indulging in those same intimacies with Edward. Nor did she want to believe that Edward had ever wanted that sort of intimacy with her.

  ‘You are truly a cruel and hateful man to say such things to me merely in an attempt to spoil my own sweet memories of my friendship with Edward!’ She glared up at Giles, her gloved hands clenched into fists at her sides as she fought back the tears, of anger as well as pain.

  That frown still darkened his brow. ‘Lily—’

  She evaded his reaching hands. ‘I— You— And I am sure I never hated anyone as much in my life before as I now hate you!’ She turned to open the door to the vicarage, hurrying inside and closing the door firmly behind her before collapsing back against it. Her breathing was loud and ragged in the silence of the hallway as the hot tears fell unchecked down her cheeks for the second time that evening.

  It was a lie!

  Everything Giles Montague had just said to her had to have been a cruel and hateful lie, deliberately intended to hurt her.

  As much of a lie as Lily’s claim of hating Giles….

  * * *

  Giles stood unmoving outside on the doorstep for several long minutes after Lily had entered the vicarage so suddenly, too surprised at her vehemence, her obvious and genuine distress, to be able to make sense of what had just occurred. To comprehend why she had found it so upsetting for him to talk of Edward’s feelings for her.

  Her distress had seemed so genuine, her anger towards Giles so heated, that he was now forced at least to consider the unpleasant possibility that his conclusions of a year ago, of Lily being a designing female out to ensnare herself a rich and titled husband, may have been wrong, and that her distress, at the thought of their own discovery three days ago, had also been genuine rather than a deliberate ploy to force an offer of marriage from him.

  Edward had talked to Giles of his feelings for Lily, of his desire to make her his wife, but what if Lily herself had been completely ignorant of those feelings, of that desire, as she now claimed to be?

  She stated she had found Giles’s conversation a year ago bewildering, his less than respectful behaviour towards her since his return to Castonbury highly offensive. Which it truly would be if Lily was as innocent in her dealings with Edward—with him!—as she now claimed to be!

  Dear God, what if he had been wrong…?

  ‘You are out and about very late this evening, Lord Giles? There is nothing amiss with His Grace, I hope?’ Mr Seagrove’s voice sharpened with concern.

  Giles had been so deep in thought, so lost to the possibility of Lily’s complete ignorance of Edward’s feelings for her—of the depth of his own insulting behaviour towards her, if that were true!—that he had been completely unaware of Mr Seagrove’s return until the other gentleman spoke to him.

  He drew in a deep and steadying breath before turning to face the older man. ‘No, there is nothing at all amiss at Castonbury Park, Mr Seagrove,’ he assured him. ‘I merely escorted Miss Seagrove home after she had visited with Mrs Stratton,’ he explained economically.

  ‘That was very kind of you, my lord.’ Mr Seagrove beamed up at him approvingly. ‘Perhaps, if you are in no hurry to return home, you would care to come inside and join me in my study for a glass of brandy?’

  Did Giles wish to sit with Mr Seagrove and enjoy a glass of brandy, aware as he did so that Lily was in one of the bedchambers overhead? To imagine how she would slowly remove all of her hairpins to release those glorious ebony curls over her shoulders and down the length of her spine, before taking off all her clothes, to stand barefoot and naked before donning a sheer nightgown to slip between the warmth of the bedcovers?

  With an almost painful throb in his breeches Giles answered a very firm no, he could not think of staying. ‘It is late, Mr Seagrove,’ Giles excused lightly. ‘And you must be very tired after your evening out.’

  ‘Not at all,’ the other gentleman assured unhelpfully. ‘Indeed, I would more than welcome your company, after an evening spent listening to Sir Nathan talk of his crops and the necessity of him taking a wife to grace his estate.’ He gave a delicate grimace.

  Giles had no doubt that Mr Seagrove had to be referring to the less than stimulating company of Sir Nathan Samuelson, a gentleman who owned an estate in the area, and as such was known to Giles, but whom he had never been able to muster a partiality for. ‘I had not heard that Sir Nathan was betrothed, let alone about to be married.’

  ‘He is not either as yet.’ Mr Seagrove sighed heavily. ‘Indeed, I have noticed that the ladies of marriageable age in the area seem to avoid him, and he does not care for London, apparently. I myself find him to be— Forgive me.’ The reverend waved a hand, as he clearly realised he was being less than discreet about one of his flock. ‘I am afraid I am a little out of sorts this evening after learning that Sir Nathan’s marital intentions may, for lack of interest elsewhere, have turned towards my darling Lily.’

  Sir Nathan Samuelson and Lily?

  Why, the man was twice her age, and a pompously self-important bore to boot.

  What did it matter what the man’s character was; Lily’s questionable parentage rendered marriage to a man of Sir Nathan Samuelson’s standing as nothing less than advantageous from her perspective. Once married to him, she would become Lady Samuelson and mistress of a modest estate, future mother to the son who would one day inherit that title and estate.

  And Giles felt nauseous just thinking of Sir Nathan Samuelson going to Lily’s bed each night, imagining the other man touching and caressing every inch of her smooth and silky skin, before nudging her legs apart and—

  He scowled darkly. ‘Would such a marriage find favour with you, Mr Seagrove?’

  ‘It would not be for me to choose, but Lily.’ The older man avoided a direct answer.

  ‘But you think she might be willing to accept if Samuelson were to offer?’ If Lily were the things Giles believed her to be, had accused her of being, surely she would be a fool not to accept such an offer of marriage.

  Mr Seagrove looked pained. ‘If the offer were to be formally made it would be my duty to advise that she do so, certainly. Such a marriage would be…more than Mrs Seagrove and I could ever have hoped for, given the lack of knowledge of Lily’s forebears.’ He looked even more distressed. ‘Indeed, Sir Nathan informed me that he would be willing to…overlook that lack once she has produced his heir.’

  Giles scowled. ‘And how does he intend to regard her until that day occurs?’

  ‘He did not care to say….’ Mr Seagrove looked less than happy at that omission.

  As well he might not! Giles’s dislike and distrust of Sir Nathan had not been made indiscriminately. As a child he had chanced to see Sir Nathan whip a disobedient horse into submission, and the other man’s behaviour in regard to the people who worked on his estate was also said to be less than kind. The thoughts that Sir Nathan might privately use that same harshness on his wife—on Lily!—did not even bear thinking about!

  It also posed the question—despite Lily’s own opinion on the subject!—as to whether Sir Nathan Samuelson’s interest in Lily might not make him that ‘dark and dangerous man’ Mrs Lovell had predicted in Lily’s future….

  ‘Perhaps I will join you in a glass of brandy, after all
, Mr Seagrove,’ Giles rasped harshly, his expression pained as he followed the older man inside. A pain which he knew had very little to do with the throbbing of the muscles in his injured thigh.

  * * *

  ‘Yes…?’ Lily bristled warily as she opened the door of the vicarage the following morning to discover Giles Montague standing outside on the doorstep.

  Mrs Jeffries had gone to shop in the village this morning, so making it necessary for Lily to answer the brisk knocking on the door herself. But, following their conversation the previous evening, the last person Lily would have expected to call this morning had been Lord Giles Montague!

  Especially as she had overheard him and Mr Seagrove in muted conversation in her father’s study for half the night, and found the decanter of brandy in there to be completely empty this morning. Her father’s headache at breakfast had testified to his having consumed his fair share of its contents! Under the circumstances, Lily would not have expected Giles Montague to be out and about at all this morning, let alone looking every inch his normal arrogant self in a tall hat, brown tailed jacket over a darker brown waistcoat and white linen, with cream buckskin pantaloons above brown-topped black Hessians, the latter seeming to indicate that he had once again ridden his horse here.

  She continued to hold the door partially closed. ‘I am afraid that my father is not at home this morning.’

  He looked down the length of his nose at her. ‘I have not called with the intention of speaking with Mr Seagrove.’

  Lily raised surprised brows. ‘Oh…?’

  Giles smiled bleakly as he saw her increased wariness. No doubt a perfectly justified wariness, following the abrupt end of their own conversation the previous evening. After Lily had professed to now hate him more than she had ever hated anyone in her life before! ‘Your father and I talked at great length together last night,’ he admitted ruefully.