Page 63 of Broken

Dithers placed them on his desk, and a thick letter in the pile stood out. Recognizing the heavy perfume in the air, he grabbed it first.

Laced with possessive tones, Sabine was demanding his return to London. Giles stared at it a long moment then tore it in half.

“I take it that wasn’t good news?” Carrington asked, lifting his nose from his brandy long enough to peer across the room with an unsteady gaze.

“Sabine.”

“Persistent?”

“Suffocating.”

Carrington sat forward. “I may have been wrong about your Lilly.”

About time, and a great relief. At least a truce of sorts had developed between Lilly and Carrington over lunch, but Giles had worried that might have been only because of the viscount’s distraction over the swindle of his betrothal.

Giles blew out a breath. “Of course you’re wrong.”

“I should have been more concerned for her because you seemed very likely to leap the luncheon table and devour her. Almost couldn’t finish my meal. No offense to Cook, of course.”

“I think—”

The sound of horse and carriages on the drive ended whatever Giles was going to say. He was at the front window in a heartbeat—and saw with horror that Lord Winter had returned.

Lilly. He smacked his fist into the window frame and turned for the door, trying not to think about the future.

Lilly’s time alone with him was over.

He slowed before he exited the house, his butler and Carrington close on his heels, as another thought slammed home. Most of his satisfaction came from the uncomplicated companionship they had shared. He had been happy. Dear Lord, that was certainly finished now.

On the steps, Giles was annoyed to see that Lord Winter had brought another guest with him, Mr. Bartholomew Barrette. A cousin of Lilly’s, if Giles remembered correctly. Seclusion at Cottingstone was turning into a regular house party. His mother had held the last one, and that was the sad occasion of Lilly’s injury and there’d never been another.

“Lord Winter, what a pleasure to see you, sir,” he said. Since the old man had asked him to keep his travels plans to himself, he decided to keep the charade in play until Lord Winter informed him otherwise. At least Giles had the forethought to prepare Carrington. He’d already explained that Lord Winter had particular requested Lilly’s presence remain secret. “You should have sent word of your impending arrival.”

Lord Winter looked harassed, and Giles found himself measuring the interloper. The cousin stood a little under Carrington’s lanky height, but possessed none of his style. The man was a peacock of the worst sort.

“Good to see you, Daventry, and very glad to catch you at home. Do you mind if I stay a day or two? I have an overpowering need to devour some of your exceptional brandy before I return to London.” He glanced sideways. “My nephew, Mr. Bartholomew Barrette.”

“Mr. Barrette.”

“Daventry.”

Simple and straight to the point. At least the man didn’t simper, as he had the last time they met.

Carrington pushed himself forward. “I’m afraid you will have to share the brandy, sir. Viscount Carrington, if you remember me.”

The baron looked startled at his friend’s identity, but he recovered swiftly and, after a brief hesitation, he shook Carrington’s outstretched hand.

Giles laughed to cover the awkward greeting. “I do have a good drop stashed here, and certainly enough to share around. Please come in and let your body catch up to the carriage.”

“I’d be grateful. But I must get back to Lilly in London soon. She’s expecting me.”

Carrington coughed as they ascended the front steps and caught Giles’ eye. Giles dipped his head. Yes, they were going to pretend Lilly wasn’t here. Mr. Barrette was to be left in the dark about Lilly, but how long would that be possible when she was wandering about the manor in near fine form?

He had a quick word to Dithers about the situation and asked him to convey to Lilly that she should wait upstairs until he could speak with her father.

Giles pushed away his anxiety and hurried after his guests, desperate to have them ensconced in the drawing room as quick as may be. At the offer of brandy, Giles could swear that Barrette looked satisfied. Perhaps he liked to indulge as much as his uncle did. But when offered brandy, Barrette was very quick to refuse. His only use, it seemed, was topping off his uncle’s glass.

As Winter divulged his plans for Lilly’s confinement, Giles knew something was very wrong with the baron. He distinctly remembered Winter mentioning a trip into Wales—not Scotland.