Chapter 3

Lord Winter’sparting the next day took some time. While Giles watched on, horses and carriages drew up in front of the house, swarming with servants as they prepared for departure. Much to Giles’ discomfort, the baron planned to take most of his staff with him. Only the nurse would remain behind to care for Lilly.

Giles found that thought vastly unsettling. He did not like that Lilly was solely reliant on the services of one person. When the baron had also requested his silence regarding his destination, alarm bells pealed.

He thought it was obvious that he wouldn’t say a word about Lillian Winter’s presence. Why would he tell the world that he had a single, unmarried woman staying in his country house without a proper chaperone? But, while Giles waited for the man to depart, he had to wonder why it was so important he keep the baron’s destination secret too.

“I believe the carriage is ready, milord,” Dithers informed Giles unnecessarily.

“Yes, it appears so.”

“I’m certain the baron will be back before you’ve realized he’s gone.”

“Hmph, I will remember you said that, Dithers. I wish he wasn’t doing this to me.”

“You sound frightened, milord.” Dithers sighed. “She’s just a woman.”

Giles scowled. He’d used his best arguments last night to try to dissuade the baron, short of threatening to ruin the chit, from going. Lord Winter had not shared Giles’ reservations. “Shut up, Dithers.”

Giles wasn’t truly irritated with the butler, but he had to take his annoyance out on someone. There was no female here he could take to bed to redirect his frustrations. Servants, despite their giggling suggestions, were off limits. Maybe the butler had a point. How much trouble could one ill woman be?

He turned from his perusal of the servants, climbed the steps toward Lilly’s bedchamber, and struggled not to hurry. He told himself quite firmly that he was keen to have Lord Winter on his way quickly so he might return with similar speed. It had absolutely nothing to do with his curious need to catch a glimpse of the woman who might have been his wife.

A virgin. Giles shuddered. What on earth was wrong with him?

He was in the country to rest until the next round of amorous diversions. He did not allow complications or virgins, to dominate his thoughts at Cottingstone. He was here to replenish his enthusiasm and relax.

He turned toward Lilly’s bedchamber and saw a flash of dark skirts hurrying away. The nurse, he supposed. What a timid, scurrying creature.

“Do you have to leave, Papa?” Lilly’s voice reached his ears and he paused outside the open door, unwilling to interrupt their farewells. He leaned against the wall, waiting and conveniently able to eavesdrop.

“I am sure you will be comfortable here, daughter.”

“Yes, Papa, I’m sure Giles will look after me very well.” Her voice sounded different, stronger, but Giles was surprised she referred to him by his first name. What exactly did Lillian Winter think she was to him? He hoped she knew her father had ended their betrothal.

Giles eased closer to the door, but he could see nothing except darkness within. He had no right to eavesdrop, but he had learned a great many things by that very poor habit.

“You must take particular care while I am gone, Lillian. Do not allow yourself to give in too frequently. We do not want to impose on Lord Daventry too greatly. He has been very good about you being here.”

Sheets rustled and when Lilly answered, her voice sounded muffled. “I know, Papa. I will do my best and rest a great deal. I am sure everything will be just fine. Do not worry. Have a good trip, but hurry back. I’ll miss you.”

There was a lengthy pause before he heard sheets rustle again and then the heavy tread of Lord Winter approaching the door. Giles moved back with every stealthy skill that he possessed to hide the fact he’d been listening, but Lord Winter seemed unsurprised by his presence.

“Your carriage is ready, sir,” Giles informed him.

Did Lilly know of her father’s plans for her future? Judging by Lord Winter’s face when he raised his chin, she did not. The man was as distraught as he had been the first night of his arrival.

Tears streamed down the older man’s face and he mopped them up hurriedly with a square of clean linen. Lord Winter obviously loved his daughter. Leaving her behind for this errand must be tearing him in two.

Atticus chose that moment to return to the house. He moved purposefully to Lord Winter, nuzzling into the older man’s hand for affection. The baron scratched behind the hound’s ears, earned a contented whine for his efforts, and then Winter leaned down to whisper into them. Atticus’ ears flattened, and then he turned, ignoring Giles to reenter Lilly’s room.

“You have a good hound there, Daventry. I did not credit that he would remember Lillian as he does. I am sorry if my daughter has deprived you of your companion, but I am grateful for the dog’s devotion. Atticus distracts her from her pain. I feel happier knowing he stands guard over her.”

Giles stopped the baron with a hand on his arm, holding him back when he would have left. Hints and innuendo be damned. “Stands guard over her? Is there something you are not telling me?”

Lord Winter glanced around to judge the position of his daughter’s bedchamber, then encouraged Giles farther along the hall. “I did not want to trouble you, but strange things happen around Lillian. Odd accidents. I do my best to always be nearby. You have seen Atticus’ behavior. He will stand in for me as best he can. You need not worry yourself over her.”

Giles was not satisfied with that response, but it appeared all he would get. Lord Winter shrugged from his grip and headed out of the manor at a sprightly pace. Giles jogged to keep up.

“The faster I am away, the faster I can return. You will be here until I get back, won’t you?”

Giles groaned. He would be lucky if he made the next Huntley ball to see his ghost again. After such vague hints, Giles doubted he possessed enough resolve to leave Lilly here alone.

Lord Winter vaulted into the conveyance and, together with the more usual level of noise, the carriage departed.

Giles watched the drifting dust settle with quiet resignation. Years spent building a sterling reputation as a rake and reduced to a nursemaid by a few well-chosen words. At least he could expect Lord Carrington’s company soon.

Giles stopped cold. Damn. How the hell was he going to keep Lillian Winter’s presence from the viscount? Giles shook his head. He could not stop the viscount’s visit now, but at least Carrington knew how to keep his mouth shut. His friend hated gossip as much as Giles did. Yet, in a strange way, Giles was pleased to think that someone else would learn of Lilly’s existence.

He glanced up the staircase as he trudged inside again. Lord Winter hadn’t extended him the courtesy of an introduction, just the pleasure of providing a roof over Lilly’s head. Perhaps later he could work out an excuse to check on her personally. He had a journal to return, after all.

He’d have to arrange it before Carrington arrived. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after, but certainly before the viscount charmed her into falling half in love with him, as every other female in London was prone to do.

Feeling somewhat better, he looked around his home but shuddered. There was a lot of work needed around the old place. The sooner he got his staff to work, the better. He would hire extra hands from the village and have them start straight away. At least his extended stay would not be a complete waste of time. The broad front steps needed scrubbing too.

He headed to the servants’ quarters, where he was sure to find Dithers and Mrs. Osprey at this time of day. They stood in surprise when he entered the housekeeper’s sitting room, but he waved them back to their places.

Glancing about him, he noticed how cozy the two of them appeared. He settled into a sturdy-looking armchair and told them what he wanted done. They both nodded, but it was not until he was near the end of his orders that he noticed the strange gleam in his housekeeper’s eyes.

“Do you have concerns, Osprey?”

“No, my lord, everything can be done as you requested, quicker with the extra hands from the village. Was there any particular completion date for the work? Any important event in the near future we must plan for?”

Giles peered at her then scoffed. Her tightly clasped hands gave her away. “No, Mrs. Matchmaker. I am not getting married.” The housekeeper slumped. “Much to your obvious disappointment.”

“I’m sorry, my lord. It’s just that the house is so quiet these days, and I cannot help remembering that your father was a father of two by your age.”

“Hmm, my parents married young. Much good that did them.”

“They were happy,” Dithers and Mrs. Osprey murmured in unison.

“Yes, until my father broke his neck. Enough. Just because I have been cajoled into playing nursemaid doesn’t mean I have changed my opinion of women and the position in my life they occupy.”

The pair exchanged discontented expressions, and then Mrs. Osprey sat forward. “About the young miss? Do you have any idea how long your intended will be staying with us?”

Giles looked at Mrs. Osprey hard. “The betrothal ended at their request years ago, Osprey. You would do well to remember that and not cause discomfort to Miss Winter. The baron wants us to conceal her presence at Cottingstone and I quite agree with him.”

Mrs. Osprey frowned, unconsciously rubbing her hands over the chair arms. Had she forgotten that, too? After a moment of fierce contemplation, she blushed. It appeared she had forgotten.

Dithers leaned toward the housekeeper. “You should concentrate on your duties, Ossie, and not let the nurse’s talk of the past confuse you. Something isn’t right with that one. She’s sticking her nose where it oughtn’t to be.”

“Well, you’re just annoyed because your charms don’t work on her,” she snapped.

A vein pulsed in the butler’s temple. “I beg your pardon,” Dithers ground out through clenched teeth.

As the spat developed between his servants, Giles considered his butler’s earlier words instead. The man was not a high stickler, but he was particularly observant. If Dithers had concerns about the nurse, Giles would do well to heed them. Lord Winter’s passing words, strange things happen around Lilly, troubled him even more now. “I have not spoken to the nurse, but Miss Winter is the daughter of a baron and deserves to be shown proper respect during her stay. Watch what you say around her. I would not like her made uncomfortable by references to the past.”

Mrs. Osprey held the butler’s glare a moment longer and then her face blanked of all emotion. She turned to Giles, and it was as if that disagreement had never started.

“Of course, my lord. I never considered that she would understand us.”

Giles clenched the arms of his seat. “Where the hell did you hear that she won’t understand you, and from whom?” He had heard Lilly’s soft words and believed her mind sound. Such a statement was clearly ridiculous.

“Why, the nurse herself, my lord,” Mrs. Osprey confided. “She told me not to fret because Miss Winter won’t ever understand what’s going on around her. She said she’d take care of everything.”

Giles’ estimation of Mrs. Osprey’s intelligence sank. “Mrs. Osprey, I am sure you have something to do. Go. Do it somewhere else. I want to have a word with Dithers about the south border.”

Mrs. Osprey fussed her way out the door, never noticing the pained glance Dithers cast at Giles.

The butler sighed, long and loud. “She grows worse each year. It sneaks up on me at times like this.”

Giles wiped a hand over his face as he contemplated his housekeeper’s unhappy future. “You’re certain her mind is failing?”

“Yes, milord.” Dithers slumped in the chair, regret creasing his features. “She forgets the strangest things at times. I spend half my day discreetly following her about.”

“She does not have family nearby, does she?”

“No. She has lived at Cottingstone all her adult life. Her parents died long ago and her remaining family sailed for Australia a few years back. She’s heard nothing of them since. Ossie knows nothing except the manor.”

Judging by the butler’s face, Giles guessed he expected him to turn her out. His housekeeper was losing her mind, a little bit each day, more noticeable to Giles because of his longer absences. He was not a monster but, in time, something would have to be done for the woman. She would not be able to manage such a large role on her own.

Dithers fidgeted with his cuff nervously, clearly agitated by the situation too. Giles decided to contemplate the dilemma another day. “Perhaps you should have married her, Dithers. Then she would have had an appropriate surname.”

His blush caused Giles to chuckle out loud. Dithers, a confirmed bachelor, was a rogue of the servant class. At forty, he still cut a fine figure, but no longer chased the ladies. A fact that confused the hell out of Giles. He had gotten his first lessons in seduction listening to the man spouting his conquests to the head groom when he was a lad. Blushing did not suit him.

“Keep an eye on the nurse, Dithers, and try not to antagonize my housekeeper.”