The Revenge of Lord Eberlin

by Julia London

  Lily was in Darlington House. She might as well have been across the English Channel. Tobin could not see her, he could not call on her. He paced like a cat before that window, pausing at times to look at the tops of the chimneys again. For the first time since he’d made his fortune, he could not buy his way to what he wanted, and that enraged him.

  “Uncle!”

  Tobin turned from the window and chuckled as Catherine came bounding into the room. There was nothing like the little girl’s smile to make him forget his troubles. He swept her up and held her tight until she began to squirm. “What are you about, sweetling?” he asked as he set her down and ran his hand over her crown.

  “Mamma said I might come in and see you before I go up for my lessons. Look,” she said and held out her hand. In her palm was a red rock. “I found it in the park yesterday. I’ve not seen a red one. Have you?”

  “I have not,” he lied and took the polished stone from her hand to examine it closely. “Agate, I think.”

  “Is it very valuable?” Catherine asked, going up on her toes to peer down at the rock in his palm.

  “Extremely,” Tobin said. “It is a precious jewel. The king’s coffers are full of agate. Mind that you put it someplace safe.”

  Catherine stared wide-eyed at the rock as he handed it back to her.

  “Really, Tobin, must you tell her such tall tales?”

  Tobin winked at his sister as she strolled into the room. “I am sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You know very well,” Charity chastised him. “Catherine, my love, it is only a rock. I suspect the king would be quite at a loss to even name the sort of rock it is. Now go to Mrs. Honeycutt. She is waiting for you to begin your lessons.” She kissed the top of her daughter’s head.

  “I think you are wrong, Mamma. It’s very precious,” Catherine said, giving her mother a withering look as she went out.

  Charity frowned at Tobin. “She believes every ridiculous thing you say, you know.”

  Tobin smiled. “I see no harm in allowing her to believe she has found a treasure,” he said. “There is tea, if you’d like.” He gestured to the service Carlson had brought up, then turned back to the window.

  “What are you looking at?” Charity asked, and joined him at the window. She looked out at the gray day. Her gaze swept up, then down. And then she turned and faced her brother. “You’re thinking of her again, aren’t you?”

  “Her?”

  “Her. Lily Boudine.”

  When Tobin didn’t answer straightaway, Charity sighed and turned away from the window. “I am not blind, darling. It is very obvious to me that you are a different man than the one who left here so many weeks ago. And since that blasted ball, you’ve moped about as if you’ve been soundly beaten.”

  “Charity—”

  “What I cannot understand is why her?” Charity said as she moved away. “She is the cause of all our unhappiness.”

  Tobin arched a brow in surprise. “Are you so unhappy?”

  Charity made a sound of impatience and folded her arms. “Of course not. I am perfectly happy being locked away in this grand house with my daughter. What would I need with companionship?”

  “I am sorry—”

  “That is precisely my point, Tobin,” Charity said. “You have nothing for which you should apologize. You have tried in every way to give me back the life that she robbed from us when she accused Father of leaving Ashwood that night.”

  “No.” Tobin shook his head. “No, Charity, I put those seeds in your head, but they are not true. Lily was younger than even Catherine is now. Think on that—Catherine is too young and innocent to invent such a tale. So was Lily.”

  Charity’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying? Has she convinced you that Father was at Ashwood that night? Dear God—”

  “He never denied that he was, did he? Did Father ever once deny it, publicly or privately? He did not—because he was there.”

  “That is ridiculous! If he was there, why would he not say that he was?” she demanded. “Unless he stole the jewels. Is that what she has caused you to believe? Do you now believe our father was a thief?”

  “Of course not,” he said patiently. “But think—why would a man ride away in the night, in the rain, across a dark park instead of the road? We both know he was not guilty of the crime. So why, then? Because he was protecting someone.”

  Charity looked confused. “Protecting who? The thief?”

  Tobin sighed. This was difficult for him—there was so much Charity did not understand. He moved to her side and put his arm around her shoulders. “A lover.”

  Charity gasped. She tried to twist out of Tobin’s hold, but he would not let her go. “How vile, Tobin—”

  “It is true, Charity. Father was involved in a love affair with Lady Ashwood. He would not confirm his whereabouts that evening because it would have destroyed her.”

  Charity angrily pushed him away. “That’s madness! Even if it were true, he would not have given his life so that she would not suffer having her husband discover it! He would not have done that to us!”

  “It was more complicated than that,” Tobin said and took her hand. “Come and sit.”

  Charity resisted.

  “Please,” he said.

  She reluctantly allowed him to pull her to the settee, where Tobin told her what he knew. That their father had fallen in love with Lady Ashwood. That there had been a heated affair. He told her about the piano stool, about the night the jewels went missing. He told her what it was that Lily saw, and how Lily had believed she was saving her beloved aunt and governess in repeating what she’d seen.

  “Then why didn’t the countess tell the earl?” Charity demanded angrily. “She would rather see her lover hang than admit her infidelity?”

  “He threatened her. He told her he would put Lily in a London orphanage if she breathed a word. You know as well as I that an orphanage would have doomed a girl as young and sheltered as your Catherine is now.”

  Charity blanched. She sank back against the cushions. “But why?” she asked. “Why would the earl rob us of our father and put the rest of us in the poorhouse? How could anyone be so heartless?”

  Tobin couldn’t answer that for her. He’d wondered the same thing. In his travels, he’d run across cruel, empty men, slaves to pleasure who had lost their souls somewhere along the way. He wondered if the earl had been one of those men. “I suspect if we ever know what became of the jewels, we’d know the answer to that.”

  Tobin suddenly did not want to be that sort of man. He did not want to be a man without a soul, without love. He did not want to be bitter and cruel, yet he felt himself standing too close to the edge, teetering on the brink of that black, black hole.

  He looked out the window again.

  “I suppose that is one theory,” Charity said and stood up. “Another is that Lily Boudine wanted to protect her aunt and her aunt’s true lover, with no regard for us.”

  “Charity—”

  Charity swung around, glaring at him. “I fear that you’ve bought into the fantasy she created because you love her. But you will never be accepted in her world, Tobin. She will toy with you, seduce you, but she will never have you. You will never be one of them.” She swept out of the room.

  Tobin stared at the door, her words ringing in his head. After a moment, he rang for Carlson. When Carlson appeared, Tobin said, “Have a carriage readied.”

  Tobin honestly didn’t know who he was any longer, but he knew that he would not be that nebulous, bitter, empty man. Maybe Charity was right and Lily’s world would never accept him.

  But he had to at least try.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The misty rain turned to snow late that afternoon, unusual at this time of year, if the servants’ chatter in Darlington House was to be believed.

  Lily didn’t bother to look out the window to see it. Her mind was full of images of Ashwood and Tobin. The futility of her search for the jewels ha
d begun to sink into her heart and the reality of her situation was becoming painfully clear. She could not repair the damage that had been done. She could not indulge in the fantasy of Tobin any longer. She had responsibilities to herself, her family, and to Ashwood.

  Still, Lily felt lost. She could scarcely even think of a return to Ashwood after all that had happened. How odd, she thought absently, that she had come to consider Ashwood her home and wanted to belong there. In her determination to keep it from falling into Tobin’s hands, she’d found a surprising affection for the house that held so many wretched memories. Once she’d swept out all the ghosts and goblins of her memory, she’d grown fond of it.

  Until now, that was. Now that she realized she could never mitigate the tragedy of all that was lost there, she couldn’t bear to return to it.

  Lily had also indulged in a fantasy or two that involved Tobin and Ashwood in the past week. She could see the two of them there, puttering about the gardens, taking the long walk down to the lake beneath the boughs of the elms. Laughing—laughing? Lily couldn’t help but smile at that image. Stoic, inscrutable Tobin laughing gaily at some silly thing.

  But a future with Tobin would mean giving up all that she’d worked for at Ashwood and jeopardizing the futures of any children she had. Lily would, in essence, give up her right to belong to this society, to people like the Darlingtons—and belonging is all that she had ever really wanted.

  Still, to imagine the children she and Tobin might have gave her a delicious little shiver. She could picture the little darlings: dark-haired like her, tall and sturdy like him. Ah, Tobin. Constantly in her thoughts. She’d wanted so desperately to find the jewels and free him from being forever branded the son of a thief. But it felt impossible—no one remembered things that had happened so long ago.

  “Oh, they’re throwing snowballs!” one of the maids said laughingly.

  “There’s scarcely enough snow for it,” the other maid said. “Who is that?”

  “Who?”

  “The gent just there, standing at the gate.”

  “From town I suspect. There’s always someone looking in like a wet dog, eh?” The pair laughed. Lily could hear one move from the window and about the sitting room where she was pretending to read.

  “Ho there, he’s coming in through the gate now.”

  “On my word, Bessie, do you intend to gape out the window all day?” the other chastised her, and they went out of the room.

  When they’d gone out, Lily stood up and walked to the window to see the snow. Whoever they’d been chatting about had gone. She shrugged to herself and quit the sitting room—she was too scattered and restless to read.

  She walked down the long corridor aimlessly, pausing occasionally to look at a painting or admire a piece of pottery. She heard raised voices downstairs but paid little heed to it. The servants often talked loudly across the wide foyer.

  But a moment later, Bessie came huffing up the stairs. “Madam, there’s a caller for you,” she said breathlessly.

  “For me?” Lily asked, surprised.

  “It’s a gent. The duchess said you should come at once.”

  Lily followed Bessie down the staircase. She’d gone halfway when her heart stopped beating for a moment. Tobin was standing in the foyer, snow on his shoulders, his hat held so tightly in his hand that she could see the whites of his knuckles. He was fighting himself, standing stiffly. Lily’s heart began to beat with a vengeance. He had come for her. She knew it. He had come for her.

  Standing next to him was Kate, looking anxiously up at Lily.

  Tobin showed no outward emotion as he lifted his gaze to hers. He stood very still, unmoving. Lily hurried down the stairs. When she reached them, Tobin’s gaze seemed to melt over her.

  “Lily,” Kate said quietly, “Count Eberlin has come to call. The dowager duchess is in the salon. Shall I go attend her?”

  There was urgency in Kate’s voice. Lily knew very well that the dowager Lady Darlington would be beside herself to know that Tobin had come to her door. “Please,” Lily said.

  “Perhaps you might receive Lord Eberlin in the drawing room?” Kate suggested, gesturing to a door just off the foyer.

  “I beg your pardon, have I called at an inconvenient time?” Tobin asked, his voice tight.

  “Not at all!” Kate said quickly. “It is just that my mother-in-law is not . . . well. I should go see to her.” She looked pleadingly at Lily as she hurried off.

  “What are you doing here?” Lily whispered as Kate disappeared upstairs.

  “I might ask the same of you,” he said, his voice soft and low and sliding like a warm bit of honey down her spine.

  A footman opened the door from outside. “Carriage in the drive,” he called to another footman inside.

  “As it happens,” Lily said, craning her neck to see around Tobin to the door, “I had business in London. You?”

  Tobin didn’t respond. He swallowed.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered and put her hand on his forearm. She felt him tense, his whole body quivering with it.

  Outside, the coachman shouted out to the footmen; one of them picked up an umbrella and hurried outside. “Perhaps we should go into the drawing room,” she said.

  Tobin shook his head and swallowed again.

  “Tobin, you really must say something—”

  “I should like to invite you to dine,” he said stiffly, just as the Duke of Darlington walked in behind him. The duke paused, his gaze first on Lily, then on Tobin’s back.

  Lily didn’t know what to say. Dining alone at Tiber Park had been a questionable thing to do, but nevertheless, something she had done in relative privacy. In London, it was altogether different. As Kate had cautioned her, gossip traveled faster than light.

  “You may bring your friends if you like,” he added, as if reading her thoughts.

  “Lady Ashwood?”

  The deep voice of Lord Darlington seemed to reverberate in the marble foyer. She looked at Tobin, saw the craving in his eyes, the hard clench of his jaw. “My lord, may I introduce Lord Eberlin,” she said.

  Tobin’s gaze held hers a moment before he turned his attention to the duke. The two men stood eye to eye; Tobin gave a curt nod. “Your Grace,” he said.

  “My lord.” Darlington looked confused. He shifted his gaze to Lily again.

  “His lordship has brought me news from Hadley Green,” Lily said.

  “Has he,” the duke drawled skeptically.

  “A private message,” Tobin added, and Lily winced.

  Lord Darlington’s gaze narrowed slightly. “Then by all means, sir, give your message.” He stepped around Tobin. “Lady Ashwood, you’ll join us for tea, won’t you?” he asked, deliberately excluding Tobin from that offer.

  “Thank you,” she said and watched him stride across the foyer, then jog up the stairs.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  The words were spoken so low that Lily scarcely heard them. She looked at Tobin.

  A corner of Tobin’s mouth tipped up and his gaze swept over her as a footman went sailing past them. “I have missed you.”

  Her blood began to swell in her veins, and Lily couldn’t help her smile.

  “I was quite cross when I found you had gone from Ashwood.” Emotion swam in his eyes—longing, esteem … only a few weeks ago, his eyes had seemed almost dead to her. …

  Voices at the top of the stairs signaled that the Darlingtons were coming down for tea.

  “I love you, Lily,” he said.

  Lily gasped.

  “I know the circumstance is not ideal. I know you have come to make a match and you should, you should make a most advantageous match. I know that my past and my illness are not what anyone would want for you. But Lily, I love you.”

  Lily’s heart began to beat wildly. “Tobin …”

  “Grayson, who is that?” she heard the dowager duchess ask at the top of the stairs.

  “You have to go,” she said soft
ly and turned away—but was stopped by the touch of Tobin’s fingers as they tangled in hers. The world seemed to cease moving; Lily was immobilized, unable to move her feet. Nor could she look at Tobin, or the stairs for that matter, and the steady descent of the Darlington family. She could do nothing but stand in that grand foyer and feel Tobin’s heat seeping into her through the tips of his fingers.

  “I vow to love you, to cherish you. I will be your prince when you demand it, or sit on a rock and read if you prefer. I am yours, Lily, if you will have me.”

  There were so many things she wanted to say, so many things she couldn’t think clearly.

  “That is Lord Eberlin,” she heard the duke say.

  Tobin put his hat on his head. “Ask for a carriage tomorrow evening,” he murmured. “Have it deliver you to Charing Cross. I’ll meet you there at seven o’clock. Please come, Lily—there is too much left unsaid between us. Seven o’clock.”

  And then he was gone. His fingers left hers, and she could feel the cold, damp air as the door closed behind him. She made herself turn around and cast a smile up the stairs.

  “Who was that?” the dowager duchess asked again as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “A friend,” Lily said lightly, avoiding anyone’s gaze.

  “Will you come for tea, Lady Ashwood?” the dowager asked.

  “Ah … no, thank you,” she said. “I am feeling a little tired, in truth. I should like to lie down before supper.”

  “My father always said that one should nap before supper,” the dowager duchess said as she moved carefully past Lily. “Aids in the digestion.”

  Lily excused herself and went upstairs. Her heart was still racing; she thought of Tobin standing in that foyer, admitting that he loved her, the way his fist clenched, holding himself in check. She thought of how she loved him. She thought of all she stood to lose, of all the people at Ashwood who depended on her.

  Lily had no idea how long she paced, but she was startled when the maid came to help her dress for supper. “Lady Darlington asked that I tell you Lord Christopher will be dining with the family this evening,” the girl said.