Making it doubly infuriating that he now had to suffer the irritating Lily Seagrove prodding and poking at him as if he were an unfeeling son who had dragged his frail and ailing father out on a needless carriage ride. All the more so when the visit to the family lawyers had been made at his father’s insistence!
‘My lord—’
‘I believe my father is about to join us now,’ Giles bit out as he heard voices out in the hallway. ‘Perhaps you would care to ask him yourself as to how he enjoyed his outing this afternoon?’ He looked expectantly towards the door.
Lily’s eyes widened as the Duke of Rothermere entered the room. She had seen His Grace rarely these past six months but had noted his increasing frailness on each of those occasions, but it was possible to see that there was colour in his cheeks this evening, and a faint sparkle of life in his eyes.
‘Ah, the pretty Miss Seagrove!’ he greeted her with obvious pleasure as he slowly crossed the room to bend gallantly over her gloved hand. ‘And Reginald!’ He turned to greet his old friend warmly.
‘Your Grace.’ Mr Seagrove beamed. ‘May I say how well you are looking this evening!’
‘I am feeling well.’ The duke nodded. ‘So much so that I hope you are feeling up to the possibility of a game of chess after dinner?’
‘I should enjoy that very much.’ Mr Seagrove accepted one of the glasses of claret from Giles Montague whilst the duke accepted the other, the two older gentlemen continuing their conversation as he returned to pour a third glass for himself.
‘You are positive I cannot provide you with refreshment, Miss Seagrove?’ He quirked a brow as he moved to stand beside her, glass of claret in hand.
It was a mockery Lily knew she justly deserved, when the Duke of Rothermere had so obviously suffered no ill effects from going out into the countryside earlier. Indeed, appearances would seem to imply the opposite! ‘No, thank you, my lord,’ she said stiffly.
‘I believe you wished to enquire of my father as to whether or not he enjoyed his outing today…?’ he reminded softly.
Lily frowned. ‘There is obviously no need when His Grace is in such good spirits.’
‘Much to your disappointment?’ Giles Montague prompted softly.
Her cheeks warmed as she gave him a startled glance. ‘Why on earth should you think that?’
‘Perhaps because earlier you all but accused me of putting my father’s health in danger by taking him out for a carriage ride.’ Giles knew one only had to look at the Duke of Rothermere to see that the outing had been beneficial. Indeed, his father, having had the direness of the family’s financial situation revealed to Giles by the family lawyers, now seemed like a man who had had a heavy weight removed from his frail shoulders!
A heavy weight which now pressed upon Giles’s shoulders instead.
‘I— You— I did no such thing!’ Lily spluttered even as the guilty colour deepened in her cheeks.
Giles grimaced, knowing his conversation was not at all polite to a guest in his family home, but he found it impossible to resist challenging Lily when she seemed so set on seeking reasons to dislike him. More reasons… The frankness of their conversation a year ago had undoubtedly already ensured that dislike!
It was an animosity of feelings Giles could well do without when he already had so many other problems to deal with. ‘Perhaps it was I who misunderstood the reason for your concern,’ he dismissed curtly.
Lily knew that Giles Montague had not misunderstood her in the slightest, and that she had, with the aid of the bad-tempered Smithins, drawn a completely wrong conclusion. But there was no way Giles Montague could have known that when he—
Stop it, Lily, she instructed herself sternly. There were no two ways about it—she was guilty of listening to gossip, and of drawing a hasty conclusion as to Giles Montague’s motivations for the afternoon outing with his father. Worse than that, she had all but made a false accusation of heartlessness towards him because of it!
‘I apologise if I seemed…overconcerned earlier, in regard to His Grace’s health,’ she spoke stiffly, her gaze fixed upon the buttons on Giles’s waistcoat as she found herself unable to look up and meet what she suspected would be chilling displeasure in those icy grey eyes.
Giles scowled as he looked down at that bent head, irritated beyond measure that he should once again note the fineness of Lily Seagrove’s looks—the dark silkiness of her curls, that delicate nape, the long dark lashes downcast against cheeks of ivory-white, those full and ruby-red lips. As for the creamy swell of her breasts just visible above the low neckline of her blue gown…!
Damn it, was his life not complicated enough at present without his noting the attractions of a young woman whose position in life, and questionable antecedents, rendered her unsuitable as being anything more to him than a gentleman’s mistress? At the same time, Giles’s acquaintance with her adoptive parents made the offer of such a role in his own life impossible.
And where that particular idea had come from Giles had absolutely no idea. Nor, having thought of it, did he wish to pursue it!
Chapter Five
‘As it is a warm evening, Miss Seagrove, perhaps you would care to take a walk on the terrace whilst our fathers retire to play their game of chess?’
Lily looked up at Giles Montague from beneath thick black lashes as he walked over to where she was still seated at the dinner table, his arm extended in silent invitation as he waited for her to rise.
As could be expected of the duke’s French chef, it had been a magnificent dinner—made more enjoyable for Lily by the fact that Giles Montague, seated at the opposite end of the table to his father, had remained broodingly silent for most of it!—but Lily’s pleasure in the evening could no longer continue now that her father and the Duke of Rothermere had decided to retire to the duke’s rooms and enjoy their brandy and cigars over the promised game of chess. And so leaving Lily, and Lord Giles, one presumed, to find their own amusement….
‘Would you not prefer to remain here and enjoy your own brandy and cigar?’ she prompted restlessly, her father and the Duke of Rothermere having already made their excuses and left the dining room together.
‘Only if you will agree to remain also…?’ Giles Montague arched dark brows.
Lily smiled dismissively. ‘I am afraid I do not drink brandy or enjoy cigars!’
He gave a tight smile at her irony. ‘And I could not possibly be so rude as to enjoy them either when to do so would abandon you to your own amusements.’
Perhaps a walk outside would be preferable to the two of them retiring to the salon for the next hour or so and attempting to make polite conversation.
‘Then I believe I should enjoy taking a walk outside in the fresh air, thank you.’ Lily gave a gracious nod of her head before standing as Giles Montague moved to pull back her chair, ignoring the arm he offered to instead turn and walk alone to where Lumsden had opened the French doors in anticipation of their stepping outside onto the terrace.
Giles regretted his suggestion as he realised—too late!—that it may not be altogether wise to venture outside in the moonlight with Lily so soon after his earlier acknowledgement of her physical attributes.
Moonlight…?
Damn it, he had never considered himself to be a romantic man, and in the past had only ever taken a woman to his bed when he felt a physical need to do so, and always in the clear understanding that the encounter meant no more to him than a passing fancy.
Whether he ‘fancied’ Lily Seagrove or not, her position as the adopted daughter of the local vicar meant she was not a woman Giles could ever seriously consider taking to his bed. Not the ideal circumstances under which he should follow her as she strolled outside into the moonlight, before crossing to stand beside the balustrade of the terrace and gaze out across the parklands. Her dark blue gown and ebony hair allowed her to meld into the darkness, and so made a stark contrast to the ivory paleness of her skin. Soft and silky skin dappled in moonlight, and which
surely begged to be touched and caressed—
‘Everything looks so much more beautiful in the moonlight, does it not?’ she remarked on a wistful sigh.
‘What?’ Giles scowled darkly as he tried to force any idea of intimacy with this young woman, either now or in the future, firmly from his thoughts.
Lily turned to glance across at where Giles Montague stood so tense and still in the shadows of the house, her breath catching in her throat as the moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face to give him an almost satanic appearance, and making a pale glitter of those silver-grey eyes. She moistened her lips before speaking. ‘I was remarking on how much more beautiful everything looks at night, my lord.’
‘Yes…’ Those grey eyes glittered more brightly than ever as he stepped out of the shadows; the darkness of his clothing added to his dark and predatory appearance.
Lily quickly turned away, feeling herself tremble slightly even as she reached out to tightly grip the balustrade before her, totally aware of Giles Montague as he crossed the terrace in sure but soft strides until she sensed he stood just behind her. Indeed, he was standing so close to her that Lily was sure she could feel the warmth of his breath against her nape!
‘Is it too cold for you out here, after all?’ he prompted huskily. He obviously saw her tremble and mistook the reason for it.
Cold? Lily had never felt warmer!
But it was the sort of warmth that came from within, a deep and compelling heat as the blood seemed to rush more quickly through her veins, and her breasts felt suddenly constricted beneath the fitted bodice of her gown, and so making breathing even more difficult.
Was she ill?
Perhaps coming down with a cold or the influenza?
Certainly her limbs felt aching and trembling, her palms damp inside the lace of her gloves and her cheeks warm as if with a fever. ‘Perhaps a little,’ she acknowledged softly, resisting the urge to turn and look at Giles Montague as she caught a rustle of movement behind her. She could not prevent her gasp as she felt the warmth of his evening jacket being placed about her shoulders. ‘Oh, please, I could not possibly—’
‘Oh, but you must.’ His hands came to rest on her now-covered shoulders in a light and yet compelling grip as she would have attempted to remove his jacket, his breath now every bit as warm against her nape as Lily had imagined it might be.
She stood tense and stiff as she knew herself completely aware of Giles Montague’s touch, from the tips of her toes to the top of her ebony head. As she was aware of how the heat of Giles Montague’s body had been absorbed into the material of the jacket that now warmed her. Just as she was also aware of inhaling the lightness of his cologne—sandalwood and lime?—every time she attempted to draw breath. It invaded her senses, and caused Lily’s trembling to intensify as she now felt uncomfortably hot inside the confines of his jacket. It was a heat and discomfort she was sure would only deepen if she were to turn and actually look at Giles Montague!
‘Better?’ he breathed huskily.
Heavens, no, it was much worse to be so aware of everything about Giles Montague, of all men, and yet seemingly unable to break the spell of that awareness!
She must, after all, be suffering from a malaise, a life-threatening fever, one that made it impossible for her to breathe, and would surely carry her off completely if she did not soon find some relief from lack of breath and the heat that coursed through her veins!
‘Lily…?’
‘I—’ She halted her protest as she heard how husky her voice sounded, her breasts quickly rising and falling as she once again attempted to breathe. ‘Perhaps we should go back inside….’ She finally chanced a glance over her left shoulder at him. And instantly wished that she had not!
Giles Montague’s face was lean and shadowed beneath dark hair ruffled onto his forehead by the gentle brush of the breeze, his shoulders appearing very broad in the white evening shirt, his stomach taut and flat beneath his waistcoat.
Lily quickly averted her gaze. ‘I think perhaps I will not wait for my father to finish his game of chess, after all, but rather I will leave now…. My lord?’ she prompted sharply, as instead of releasing her, she felt his hands tighten their grip upon her shoulders. ‘You are hurting me, my lord,’ she protested softly as she tried to extricate herself from his clasp.
For several long seconds it seemed as if Giles Montague would not allow her to be released, and then just as suddenly the heat of his hands was removed, allowing Lily to slip away before taking the jacket from her shoulders, resisting the slight shiver at the loss of its warmth as she turned to hold the garment out to him. ‘My lord?’ she prompted firmly when he made no effort to take it from her but continued to scowl down at her broodingly in the moonlight.
Giles’s hands were clenched at his sides, a nerve pulsing in his tensed jaw as he fought an inner battle with himself not to give in to the demand that he take Lily in his arms and—
And what?
If he should kiss Lily Seagrove, even once, then he would be openly acknowledging his desire for her. An unwanted desire, and one which Giles had no reason to believe Lily returned. In fact, her every word and gesture towards him implied the opposite!
He stepped back abruptly. ‘I will instruct John to bring the carriage round,’ he bit out tersely, a frown darkening his brow as he reached out and took his jacket from Lily’s gloved fingers before shrugging his shoulders into its tailored perfection, determinedly straightening his cuffs in an effort not to look at her again.
‘That will not be necessary—’
‘It is very necessary,’ Giles assured firmly as he turned to stride across the terrace and open the door for her to enter. ‘Not only do I insist you return home in the carriage, but I shall accompany you.’
Her chin was raised in challenge as she joined him at the open door. ‘You perhaps fear that if I were to walk home alone at night I might be set upon by the Gypsies?’
Giles’s jaw was tightly clenched at her deliberate challenge towards what most—what he, certainly—believed to be her antecedents. ‘The elderly Mrs Lovell is the only one of the Romany to have arrived so far, and I somehow doubt you have anything to fear from her!’
Lily raised dark brows. ‘I am surprised you were even aware of her presence….’
He gave a tight and humourless smile. ‘Since my return a week ago I have made it my business to know all that transpires on the Rothermere estate.’
‘So many have remarked,’ Lily acknowledged ruefully as she swept past him to enter the warmth of the dining room.
‘You sound disapproving, when only days ago I believe you urged me to take an interest.’
‘I, my lord?’ Lily raised her brows as he stepped into the dining room. ‘You are mistaken.’
‘I do not believe so, no,’ he bit out tightly.
Lily frowned. ‘It must be somewhat…tedious for you that the law does not as yet allow you to officially claim the title of Marquis of Hatherton.’
‘Tedious?’ Giles Montague echoed softly as he carefully closed the door behind him before turning, the grey of his eyes now like shards of opaque glass as he looked down the lean length of his nose at her. ‘You believe I must consider the death of my elder brother as being tedious?’
Lily had spoken hastily, still totally unnerved by the strange turmoil of her feelings towards Giles Montague. ‘I meant no disrespect to Lord James’s memory.’
‘No?’
‘Certainly not,’ she insisted sharply.
Giles Montague gave a haughty acknowledgement of his head. ‘In that case I must consider any intended disrespect to have been directed towards me. And if so, then I believe I should warn you that the last person to accuse me of wishing my brother James dead, so that I might inherit his title, no doubt still has the bruises about his throat to show for it!’
Lily’s startled gaze instantly moved to that spot on the arrogant, square jaw where Giles Montague had sported a bruise the week before.
> ‘Yes,’ he confirmed as he saw her glance. ‘That very same gentleman,’ he drawled self-derisively.
‘Oh,’ she breathed softly.
He raised mocking brows. ‘You had perhaps imagined, having heard of my exploits in London, that I received my injury for a…less respectable reason?’
Having given some thought to that bruise after their initial meeting in the woods, Lily had thought exactly that, she now acknowledged guiltily. In fact, she knew she had quite enjoyed imagining the arrogant Giles Montague to have perhaps been struck on the chin by a jealous husband or lover shortly before leaving London!
Except…
It now transpired that Giles Montague had received that blow whilst defending the affection he had for his dead brother.
That Lord James had died far away in Spain, swept away in the torrent of a fast-flowing river, his body never recovered, had, Lily knew, been a painful blow to the members of the Montague family residing in Derbyshire. Her own prejudice of feelings towards Giles Montague had not allowed her to see that, although he had been away from home when the news arrived, he must have been just as wounded, if not more so, by the loss of his older brother.
‘I apologise,’ she spoke huskily. ‘I meant you no insult. I—’ She gave a self-disgusted shake of her head. ‘I spoke out of turn, and I apologise.’
Giles slowly allowed the tension to ease from his shoulders. ‘One apology would have sufficed,’ he assured drily. ‘Now, if you are quite ready to leave, I will ring for Lumsden and have the carriage brought round.’
‘I really do not want to be any trouble—’
‘My dear Lily, it is now my belief that you have been nothing but trouble since the moment your baby basket was left upon the Seagroves’ doorstep twenty years ago!’
Green eyes opened wide with shock at the unexpectedness of his attack. ‘I— You— That was completely uncalled for!’ she gasped faintly.
Yes, it was, Giles acknowledged wearily. Uncalled for, and deliberately cruel. But, in truth, he was feeling cruel. A combination of physical frustration and inner turmoil had most definitely rendered him cruel!
Castonbury Park 01 - The Wicked Lord Montague Page 6