The Wicked Lord Montague. Кэрол МортимерЧитать онлайн книгу.
as diplomat, currently resided in Town when not out of the country on other business.
If anyone had asked Giles if he really wanted the garden party to be held at Castonbury Park this year, his honest answer would have been no. But having now seen his father, witnessed the way in which his grief had caused him to become withdrawn, not just from his family but from the estate and village as well, and the way in which that estate had been allowed to fall into a state of gentile decay, Giles was of the opinion, no matter what his personal feelings on the matter, that the return of the annual celebrations in the grounds of Castonbury Park was exactly what was needed to bring about a return of confidence in the Montague family’s interest in both the tenants and the village.
An interest which, it was becoming all too frustratingly apparent, Giles himself would have to facilitate!
As the second son, he’d had very little reason to pay heed to the running of the estate, or the other duties of the Dukes of Rothermere, and had left such matters to his father and Jamie after he had joined the army twelve years ago. Unfortunately Jamie’s death, and his father’s failing health, now necessitated—as Lily Seagrove had all too sweetly taken pleasure in pointing out—that Giles’s disinterest in such matters could not continue.
Fortunately for Giles, his years as an officer in the army had given him an insight into the nature of people—although he thought the villagers of Castonbury would not in the least appreciate being compared to the rough and ready soldiers who had served under him for eleven years, many of them having chosen to serve only as an alternative to prison or worse!—and as such he knew that the quickest and easiest way to win a man or woman’s confidence was to show an interest in them and their comfort.
In the case of the villagers, Giles had no doubts that the return of the annual celebrations to the grounds of Castonbury Park would be the perfect way of showing that interest.
‘Indeed we did,’ Giles answered Mr Seagrove ruefully. ‘And I will be only too happy to offer assistance this year. Under Miss Seagrove’s direction, of course …?’ He raised a dark and challengingly brow as he turned to look across the room at her.
Lily, having lapsed into what she now realised had been a false sense of security, could only stare back at him in wide-eyed disbelief.
The thought of the well-dressing celebrations being held at Castonbury Park, and so necessitating Lily spend more time here than she might ever have wished or asked for, seemed dreadful enough, but having Giles Montague offer his personal help with the organisation of those celebrations was unthinkable!
Nor did she believe for one moment that the haughty and arrogant Lord Giles would ever agree to do anything ‘under her direction.’
‘I really could not ask that of you, my lord, when you obviously have so many other calls upon your time now that you are home at last.’ She gave another of those sweet smiles.
Amusement—no doubt at Lily’s expense!—gleamed briefly in those grey eyes. ‘But you did not ask it, Miss Seagrove, it was I who offered,’ Giles Montague drawled dismissively.
‘But—’
‘As far as I am concerned, the matter is settled, Miss Seagrove.’ He rose abruptly to his feet as an indication that their visit was also at an end.
A dismissal Mr Seagrove, his real purpose in calling having now been settled to his satisfaction, was only too ready to accept as he rose to his feet. ‘I am sure you have made the right decision, my lord, for both the family and village as a whole.’ He beamed his pleasure at the younger man.
For once in her young life Lily could not help but wholeheartedly disagree with her adoptive father. Oh, she had no doubts that the rest of the village would see the reestablishment of the celebrations to Castonbury Park as a positive thing, a return to normality after almost a year of uncertainty.
But as the person who would be required to consult with Giles Montague, Lily could not help but feel a sense of dread….
Chapter Three
‘I do believe this particular shade would complement your colouring admirably.’ Mrs Hall laid out a swatch of deep pink material upon the counter top of her establishment, where several other bolts of material already lay discarded after having been rejected by Lily as not quite what she wanted.
In truth, Lily was not absolutely sure what she did want, only that she had decided to purchase some material to make up a new day gown, and Mrs Hall’s establishment in the village was so much more convenient than having to travel all the way to the nearest town of Buxton. Luckily, that lady had several new selections of material in stock, and Lily’s needlework was also excellent due to Mrs Seagrove’s tutelage in earlier years. Besides which, with the celebrations less than two weeks away, Lily was sorely in need of a new gown—
Lily drew her thoughts up sharply as she realised she was not only prevaricating but actually practising a deception upon herself; her reason for deciding she needed a new gown for the day of the well-dressing celebrations could be summed up in just three words—Lord Giles Montague! Which was a ridiculous vanity on Lily’s part, when she had no doubts that the haughty Lord Giles would have taken absolutely no note of the gowns she had been wearing on the two occasions on which they had last met.
‘Or perhaps this one …?’ Mrs Hall held up another swatch, having obviously drawn a wrong conclusion as to the reason for Lily’s present distraction.
‘I think perhaps—Oh, how beautiful!’ Lily gasped in pleasure as she focused her attention on the material which she was sure had to be a match in colour for the green of her eyes.
If styled correctly, it could be prettied up with cream lace at the neck and short sleeves to wear in the evenings. Not that Lily had attended any of the local assemblies since Edward died, but even so …
‘It is perfect,’ she breathed in satisfaction. ‘But no doubt costly?’ she added with a self-conscious grimace; she was, after all, only a vicar’s adopted daughter, and as such it would not do for her to look anything other than what she was, and this material had a richness about it that was unmistakable to the eye.
As she had grown to adulthood Lily had often found herself wondering if, as so many in the village so obviously suspected, she really could be the daughter of one of the dramatically beautiful Romany women who stayed in the grounds of Castonbury Park during the summer months.
Several years ago Lily had even plucked up the courage to question one of them, a Mrs Lovell, the oldest and friendliest of the Romany women. The old lady had seemed taken aback by the question at first, and then she had chuckled as she assured Lily that the tribes took care of their own, and that no true Romany child would ever have been left behind to live with a gorjer. It had been said in such a contemptuous way that Lily had no difficulty discerning that the old lady meant a non-Romany person.
Even so, Lily had still sometimes found herself daydreaming as to how different her life would have been if, despite Mrs Lovell’s denials, her mother really had been one of those lovely Romany women….
No doubt once she was grown she would have worn those same dresses in rich and gaudy colours that she had seen the Romany women wearing, with her long and wildly curling black hair loose about her shoulders as she danced about the campfire in the evenings, enticing and beguiling the swarthy-skinned Gypsy men who watched her with hot and desirous eyes.
Her daydreams had always come to an abrupt and disillusioned end at that point, as Lily acknowledged that might possibly be the exact way in which her mother had conceived the child she had abandoned on the Seagroves’ doorstep twenty years ago!
‘Perhaps it is not quite … suitable.’ She sighed wistfully as she touched the beautiful moss-green material longingly. ‘A serviceable grey would be more practical, do you not think?’ Her liking for the material in front of her was so immediate and so strong, it was impossible to prevent the wistfulness from entering her tone.
The other woman laughed lightly. ‘Like the gown you are wearing today,