“Not as well as I knew his wife.” Both squeezed the other’s fingers at this revelation. Both clearly wondering if the alleged marriage, like the coincidental surname, was a sham to hide his illegitimacy. “His business took him away often, and unlike your mother he always preferred to keep himself to himself.” Of course he did because he was living a lie. Diana did not need to look at Giles to know he was thinking the same.
The vicar seemed compelled to fill their stunned silence. “As I recall, Mr. St Clair rented Holly Cottage on the outskirts of the village several years before you were born and seemed to like it here but he left the parish devastated, never to return after your mother’s sad demise.” The Reverend Griffiths offered Giles a pained smile. “There is no denying you are the image of him. You have his height, his coloring, and the same shaped face.” The vicar gestured to Giles’s dimpled Sinclair chin. “Mr. St Clair was a handsome fellow, too. How is he?”
“Also dead. He…”
In case Giles elaborated with any more of the truth than was necessary, Diana intervened. “He passed while my husband was still a small child, hence he knows so little of his family history.” He flicked her an amused glance, then the wretch’s eyes wandered heavenward again.
“I am sorry. I shall say a prayer for him at evensong.”
“You should probably say a prayer for all of us. Especially mywife.”
Diana pinched his arm to let Giles know this wasn’t the time or place for his teasing. “Did Mr. St Clair organize the headstone on her grave?”
“He did, though I do not think he ever found the strength to visit it, the poor man, for she was his everything. Her death hit him hard. He was inconsolable with grief.” It was Giles’s turn to pinch her arm now. More out of disbelief at hearing about this version of his father than at her question. “So inconsolable he almost left without you, Mr. St Clair. Had the midwife not chased after his carriage and handed you to him, I daresay you might still be living here now.”
“Perhaps he blamed me for her death?” By the pained acceptance in his eyes, Giles did not need an answer to that question. He also did not need to hear a stranger try to console him with empty platitudes and reassurances when he had lived his entire childhood and beyond with the consequences.
“There is an inscription.” Diana cringed at her poor attempt at Welsh in her rushed attempt to save him. “Hwyl fawr cariad—what does it mean?”
“In English I suppose the closest translation is ‘Farewell, my love.’” The Reverend Griffiths touched Giles’s shoulder in comfort. “A more devoted couple I never did see than your parents. Theirs was a genuine union of love. A rare commodity indeed, as I am sure you can appreciate.” The vicar smiled at Diana. “How long have you lovebirds been married?”
“It feels like five minutes.” Giles offered her a suitably soppy grin.
“Another successful St Clair love match, too, I can see.” The Reverend Griffiths offered Giles one of those man-to-man looks. “Tell me, how long did it take you to propose to your lovely lady?”
“I didn’t propose. She did… didn’t you,cariad?”
Diana narrowed her eyes then smiled for the older man’s benefit. “My husband is teasing, Reverend. Of course I didn’t propose. To be honest, I barely tolerated him to begin with—but he grew on me. Like fungus.”
“And now I am the victoriouschampignonof her heart.”
The vicar laughed. “You are just like your mother, Mr. St Clair. She liked a good joke, too. Ffion had a great sense of fun and adored the ridiculous.” Another thing Giles had inherited. “So different in character from your father, and she teased him mercilessly as a result. But they say opposites attract and they were as opposite as any couple I ever knew—yet they worked and made each other happy from the day they arrived to the day he held her hand as she died.”
“How many years did they live here?”
The Reverend Griffiths pondered her question. “It’s so long ago I really couldn’t say for sure. Eight years. Maybe nine.” A clock chimed on the mantelpiece and he smiled with regret. “I wish I had the time to reminisce with you longer but sadly I have this evening’s service to prepare for. Unless you can stay for it and we can chat after?”
They both shook their heads. “We have a long journey back.” Then grinned at each other for saying exactly the same thing at the same time.
While Giles thanked the vicar for his time and his recollections, Diana stared at the damning record once more. A record that confirmed not only Giles’s parentage but also his father’s blatant infidelity. Or perhaps even bigamy if the vicar’s assumptions and the register were correct and Gerald Sinclair had purposefully taken the abbreviated spelling of his ancestral name to marry another wife while his duchess still lived.
The deeper she dug into Giles’s past, the more rattling skeletons she unearthed. Lies heaped upon more lies and poor Giles was the victim. Perhaps Ffion had been, too. Both parents had taken the truth to their graves. But as always, a trace remained, and this trace was explosive. Enough to strip Giles of his title if Gervais ever found it.
Which of course he would if she left it to find!
In the absence of any better plan, she acted on impulse while silently praying that the Almighty would forgive her for her umpteenth shocking lie in his house in as many minutes.
“Oh my goodness… I feel faint.” She squeezed Giles’s arm to let him know she really didn’t, and to his credit he still caught her with convincing aplomb. She clutched at his lapels, channeled Vee, and acted for all she was worth as she croaked, “My head is spinning… I feel so parched…”
Playing along, Giles pulled out a chair and while he maneuvered her limp body into it he turned to the blinking vicar. “Might I trouble you for some water, Reverend?”
“I shall fetch some from the font!”
As he hurried out, and conscious that time really was of the essence and before Giles lunged to stop her, Diana grabbed the book and swiftly tore out the page.
“What are you doing?”
“Saving you and every tenant who depends on you.” She slammed the register closed and had barely stuffed the damning evidence down her bodice and resumed her feigned faint when the vicar returned.
