The Wicked Lord Montague. Carole Mortimer

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      ‘You appear to be very well informed of the movements at Castonbury Park, Miss Seagrove.’ Giles regarded her through narrowed lids, his own jaw having ached for several hours after coming into contact with her brow, but thankfully having suffered no further visible bruising.

      She shrugged creamy shoulders. ‘Mrs Stratton happened to mention the outing when I called on her earlier today.’

      ‘Indeed?’ Giles murmured drily.

      ‘Yes.’ Lily’s cheeks became slightly flushed at the derision she heard in Giles Montague’s tone at hearing she had once again called upon the housekeeper at Castonbury Park. ‘You omitted to answer my query concerning your father’s enjoyment of his carriage ride, my lord …’ she reminded determinedly.

      He looked down at her with shrewd grey eyes. ‘Did I?’ he drawled.

      ‘Yes.’ Lily glared her frustration, feeling at that moment much like a mouse must when being played with by a cat. In the case of Giles Montague, a large and arrogant cat!

      ‘How remiss of me.’ He turned away to look at Mr Seagrove.

      ‘Would you care for a glass of claret before dinner, sir?’

      ‘I would, thank you, Lord Giles.’ Her father beamed at the younger man, as usual seeming unaware of the tension that existed between Giles Montague and his daughter.

      ‘May I get you a glass of sherry, or perhaps lemonade, Miss Seagrove?’ Giles Montague raised dark and mocking brows as he glanced in her direction.

      He was a very large and arrogant cat whom Lily was nevertheless forced to acknowledge looked extremely handsome in black evening clothes and snowy white linen! ‘No, thank you,’ Lily refused stiffly, more than slightly annoyed with herself for having noticed how handsome Giles Montague looked this evening.

      Giles turned to dismiss Lumsden with a terse nod before crossing the room himself to pour the claret into two crystal glasses, a frown low on his brow as his thoughts turned once again to the events of this afternoon. Not the most enjoyable time he had spent in his father’s company since his return, and Lord knows those previous visits to his father’s rooms had not been conducive to Giles sleeping comfortably at night!

      Calling to talk with the family lawyers in Buxton earlier today had succeeded in helping Giles to slowly, very slowly, unravel the tangle his father appeared to have made of things since Jamie had perished. A tangle that the duke had only made worse during that last battle with Napoleon at Waterloo, when it had seemed as if Wellington might not prevail. Indeed, the Duke of Rothermere’s actions at that time had been so extreme that Giles was still uncertain, even with the help of the lawyers, as to whether or not he would ever be able to set things to rights.