“It has to be that way?” She’d frowned at the news.
Giles considered his reply. “Wolfbridge is unique, Ma’am. I don’t need to tell you that. But simply because we are able to live according to our own set of precepts, that does not mean they would be acceptable to the general public, who conform to a much more stringent code of behaviour.”
“I suppose that’s true,” she agreed.
“The more we can appear to conform to the public notion of what is estimable, the easier it is for us to maintain the Wolfbridge beliefs and concepts to which we adhere in private.”
“I am forced to agree, Giles. But it is difficult. The more I learn of Wolfbridge and the good things that have resulted from its institution, my preference would be to shout its benefits loud and clear, instead of remaining silent.”
He blinked. “Er…well put, Ma’am.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do. I’ve seen many a Lady of the Manor troubled in the same way, but until society changes considerably, we are restrained to this single path.” He glanced at her. “Would you prefer Wolfbridge to be as strict and unyielding as any other estate?”
She shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Then we will go on as we have done, and hope that our reputation for doing the right thing and bettering lives will always take precedence over whispers of our private business.”
“Are there whispers?” She looked at him anxiously.
“Once upon a time, yes, there were.” He briefly touched her hand. “But not now. Not for years.”
And there were no whispers as both Giles and Lady Gwyneth observed the service, rising, sitting, singing and praying according to the moment. It was a pretty church, and Vicar Thomas’s reputation was enhanced by the brevity of his sermons. He did take time to welcome the Lady of Wolfbridge, compliment her on regaining her health, and professed delight that she was already enmeshed in preparations for the Whit Sunday fête, to take place in a couple of weeks.
He also cleverly encouraged everyone to make sure they had their blessing from the Lord prior to attending the event. After all, he’d noted, it took quite a bit of luck to win at bowling if one was inclined to play, and a good relationship with God couldn’t hurt.
That made everybody laugh and the final hymn and prayers brought the service to a satisfactory close. Giles helped Gwyneth button her gloves and then stood, offering her his arm.
The Vicar led them out into the sunshine, standing at the entrance and sharing a word or two with his parishioners. “My Lady,” he bowed. “I am so happy to welcome you. I trust you enjoyed our worship this morning?” He beamed at Gwyneth.
“Indeed, Vicar. You have a lovely church, and an enthusiastic congregation, both of which I find to be most pleasing. I look forward to seeing you regularly from now on.”
“You are very kind, Ma’am. We rejoice in your recovery and will eagerly await your attendance.” He leaned toward her. “You must be sure to let me know if there are any announcements you would like me to make on behalf of yourself or Wolfbridge.”
“Of course. That is a lovely idea and I shall keep it in mind.”
Smiling from ear to ear, he bowed again, and Giles led Gwyneth away, allowing the other congregants to leave the church behind them.
“A nice man,” she observed once they were out of earshot. “And a nice service too.”
Giles was silent, merely nodding in agreement. He had looked back, wanting to see the gentlemen and make sure they spoke before leaving. He’d noticed another head he recognised.
Two heads in fact.
Attending services this morning, amidst the locals, had been Baron Randschen and…to Giles’s astonishment…Mr Baxter Fairhurst.
Seeing those two together sounded all kinds of danger warnings in Giles’s head and he turned with relief to see Mrs B and Jane walking toward Gwyneth. In moments all three were chatting happily, which freed him to keep his eye on the two men.
Royce, Jeremy, Evan and Gabriel all arrived at the same time, but stilled as soon as they saw him.
“What is it?” Royce asked quietly. “Who are you watching?”
Giles turned away from the sight of Fairhurst and Randschen and inclined his head toward his friends, keeping his voice low. “The Baron is here. Unusual enough, for a small country church, but it’s who he’s with that has me concerned.”
“Oh my God,” swore Jeremy softly.“Baxter Fairhurst.”
Royce frowned. “Who?”
