by Julia London
Lily knew precisely what Kate was about, and at any other time in her life, she might have been thrilled. But today, the news was not particularly welcome.
At supper, the dowager duchess lectured Lord Christopher—Merrick, as he’d invited Lily to call him—on various political issues, as he served in the House of Lords. Over a meal of lamb stew, the duchess lectured beneath the tiara she wore, with two large diamonds that twinkled in the candlelight.
For his part, Merrick was relaxed in his seat, occasionally teasing his mother, and smiling at Lily from time to time as he promised his mother to do better with his votes. Merrick was as handsome as his brother and quite charming in a very quiet way.
“You should be thinking of your future, Merrick,” the dowager said. “You should be concentrating on nuptials. Not politics.”
Merrick winked at Lily. “Then perhaps Lady Ashwood will save me and agree to the happy state of matrimony.”
Lily’s breathing suddenly constricted.
“How can you jest about something so important!” the duchess huffed, and Kate stifled a smile behind a bit of lamb.
“Before you give him your answer, Lady Ashwood,” the duke interjected, “it is my duty to warn you that Merrick is notoriously liberal in his views.”
Merrick laughed.
“We are attending the opera tomorrow evening,” Kate said brightly. “Why don’t you come along, Lily and Merrick?”
“Only if Lady Ashwood promises she will join me,” Merrick said.
“I … thank you. Thank you kindly for the invitation, but regrettably, I have a prior engagement tomorrow evening.”
“I am desolated,” Merrick said mournfully. “Will you abandon me to the clutches of the grandes dames of society with their unmarried daughters? Please say you will cancel your engagement and protect me from them.”
“So dramatic,” the dowager sighed.
“Lady Ashwood, will you leave me alone and defenseless?” Merrick asked playfully.
“Really, Merrick!” the dowager complained. “If you intend to court her, do it properly! Now what is this I hear about reforms?”
Merrick chuckled and happily turned the conversation to the latest political news.
Lily scarcely heard any of it; her thoughts were on the handsome man sitting across from her. The charming man with the title that could save Ashwood and restore it to the crown jewel it once had been.
The next morning, Kate found Lily in the small salon. She entered the room with a bright smile, her green eyes sparkling, and after exchanging pleasantries, she said, “I hope Merrick didn’t offend you last evening. All of the Christopher men believe themselves to be extraordinarily charming.” She laughed as she sat beside Lily on the settee.
“He didn’t offend me in the least,” Lily said.
“I think,” Kate said, “that he rather esteems you.” She beamed. “Honestly, Lily? I was a bit surprised. I had high hopes, naturally, but Merrick has never shown any particular interest in anyone that I am aware. But he spoke to me last night and said that he found you quite intriguing and inquired into your character.”
Heat began to creep up Lily’s neck.
“He would be an excellent match,” Kate said. “He is quite wealthy in his own right, and he is a viscount.”
“Ah.” Lily couldn’t seem to think. “He is … I am at Ashwood, not London—”
“But Ashwood is so close,” Kate said quickly. “One can reach it in a day.”
She had clearly given this a lot of thought. “Well.” Lily rubbed her palms on her lap. “That is … it’s very interesting.”
Kate smiled curiously at her. “I thought you would be pleased. You know that Merrick is quite sought after in London, and one could not ask for a better match.”
“No, none better,” Lily agreed. She felt as if she might explode at any moment. “It’s just …”
“Never fear,” Kate said and reached for Lily’s hand, squeezing it fondly. “I will make certain that you are well acquainted. I am confident you will find him the most agreeable, kindest, most thoughtful man.”
Lily smiled.
Kate squeezed her hand again. “I am certain you realize that to disregard the attentions of a member of the Duke of Darlington’s family for someone else could be catastrophic for you. And I would not like to see that happen to you, for I am very much aware of what it is like to be on the outside looking in.” She gave Lily a meaningful look. “You know how these things are done.”
“Yes,” Lily said slowly.
“And really, I think this the perfect solution to all your troubles!”
Lily sorely regretted telling all of her troubles to Kate. “You may be right,” she said, folding her arms.
“Then you will attend the opera with us tonight?” Kate asked. “I will consider it a personal favor.”
She made it impossible! A swell of great disappointment rode through Lily, but she nodded. “Then naturally, I shall.”
“Thank you!” Kate said, smiling brightly. “I will be so very thrilled when I’ve made two of my favorite people happy. I will leave you now,” she said and went out.
Lily stared at the floor. Kate was right, of course. She would never find a more advantageous match. The Darlington family could restore Ashwood ten times over, and she could provide them with heirs. She had stumbled into a prodigious match, and yet …
She could not imagine life with Merrick, not when she loved Tobin. But couldn’t she come to love Merrick? For if she gambled on Tobin, she stood to lose so much.
She stood to lose everything.
TWENTY-SIX
Predictably, but aggravating nonetheless, Charity did not want to accompany Mr. Howell, Tobin’s secretary, and his wife, to the opera. “The opera?” she scoffed. “I have no interest in the opera.”
Charity was so rarely in society that Tobin thought she might welcome the diversion. “The Howells would like you to join them,” he said stiffly. Could she not see that he needed her to go? Could she not guess why? Could she not, just once, give into his wish?
“Your disgraced sister and your secretary and his timid wife. It’s laughable.”
“It’s not open for debate,” he said sternly, drawing a look of surprise from her. Tobin gripped his hands together. “I understand your unhappiness,” he said. “God help me, I understand it better than anyone. I have spent my adult life trying to make it up to you. But in this one thing, I cannot accommodate you, Charity.”
Her face fell. Tears filled her eyes. “Do you think to marry her?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
A flutter of panic winged through Tobin’s body. “If she will have me,” he admitted.
Charity shook her head as tears fell down her cheeks. “Oh, Tobin, please, not that. Not her.”
“I would that I could have directed my heart to a more suitable prospect—”
“But why?” Charity cried. “What does she possess that you cannot live without? You have everything you could possibly need! What will I—”
There was something in Charity’s words that registered somewhere deep inside Tobin. He suddenly understood that it was not that he’d fallen in love with Lily that had his sister so distraught, but that he had fallen in love at all. He was all she and Catherine had, and she feared what would become of her.
He swiftly crossed the room to her. Charity stumbled backward, trying to escape him, but Tobin caught her and held her tightly. He felt the sobs rack her frame, felt the tension began to drain from her body. “I will never leave you, Charity,” he said. “Never.”
“She won’t want us,” Charity said mournfully into his coat. “She will think Catherine is too loud, or that I am too present—”
“Not Lily,” he soothed her.
“How can you be sure?”
“I know her. And I am sure.”
He didn’t truly feel as certain as he sounded. There were so many unanswered questions, so many things he’d not considered. The only thing he knew
was that he was wildly in love with Lily. He could not deny it; he could not push it down into the mud, for it kept sprouting up. So many little hopeful sprigs—if he pulled up one, two more followed.
Charity carelessly wiped the tears from beneath her eyes and tried to smile. “I pray that you are right,” she said sadly and touched his cheek. She walked to the door and paused, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “What time shall I expect the Howells?”
He smiled. “Thank you. Seven o’clock.” He watched his sister walk out of the salon, then cast his gaze out the window to the Darlington House chimney tops. He didn’t know if Lily would come tonight. He’d not allowed himself to contemplate that possibility, for fear of the pain.
Pain. How curious, he thought, that he could feel it at all.
If Lily did come, he would make certain that she never left again.
Rise up.
Press on.
For once, he knew what he was pressing toward.
Lily dressed in the gold gown Tobin had given her. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever worn, and with the modest tiara with a large pearl at the center that the dowager duchess had lent her, she looked regal. She looked like a countess, a woman born and bred for this post in life. No one who looked at her would suspect that her heart was breaking, but Lily could see the regret in her eyes, piled up like so much snow.
“The family is awaiting you downstairs, mu’um,” her maid announced.
Lily nodded. She picked up her gloves and walked out of that grand suite of rooms, with its soaring ceilings and velvet curtains and thick Aubusson carpets.
From the top of the staircase, she could see the Darlingtons gathered below. The dowager was wearing a dusty pink gown with a tiara much like the one Lily wore. Kate was stunningly beautiful in emerald green. Lord Darlington and Merrick were turned out in formal tails. As Lily started down the stairs, the duke and his brother turned to look at her, and she could feel their admiring glances. She smiled as Merrick walked forward and bowed before holding out his hand to her.
“If I may, Lady Ashwood, you are stunning.”
“Thank you,” she said, blushing a little. Just behind him, Kate was smiling approvingly.
“We’ll take two carriages tonight so that we don’t crush the ladies’ gowns,” the duke said. “Merrick, would you be so kind as to escort Lady Ashwood?”
So the matchmaking had begun in earnest, Lily thought. She looked at her escort. He was a handsome man; any woman would be thrilled to be the object of his attention.
They proceeded out to the waiting carriages, where a team of four footmen handed them into their conveyances. As their carriage started forward, Merrick smiled admiringly at Lily. “Thank you for coming tonight,” he said. “I had rather feared you wouldn’t.”
Lily smiled. “I can dine with friends at Ashwood any time, but I can hear the opera only in London.”
“Quite true. Are you a fan of the opera?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, hoping she sounded convincing. She really didn’t care for it. She’d been forced to attend three in Italy, and after the first act of each performance, she’d had more than her fill of it. But she supposed that the haut ton thought opera essential.
“You must have a better ear for it than me,” Merrick said. “I find it rather tedious.”
Lily wanted to groan. She should have told the truth, but she felt so uncertain about everything. “Then why do you go?” she asked curiously.
Merrick smiled and leaned slightly forward. “Madam . . . is it not obvious?”
Lily smiled; the compliment and obvious interest in her gave her a shiver of delight.
“I hope I am not too forward,” Merrick said as the coach turned a corner.
With a coy smile, Lily looked out the window. They were coming to the end of the Strand and would be passing by Charing Cross in a moment.
“I have rarely met a woman as intriguing as you are,” Merrick said. “There is something so pure about you.”
“You are very kind,” Lily said absently. She spotted Tobin instantly. He was standing by the statue of King Charles, with his legs braced apart, that fist forever clenched against the tension that raged inside him, and Lily’s heart leapt at the sight. He was watching the first Darlington carriage roll by, and she could see his hand unclench and clench again.
“Stop,” she said softly.
“Beg your pardon?”
“Stop!” She couldn’t turn her back on Tobin, not now—not after what they’d shared and overcome. They were both outsiders—they both needed someone, and someplace to belong. They belonged together. “Stop the coach!”
Merrick banged on the ceiling at the same moment Tobin turned his head and saw her coach. “What is the matter?” Merrick asked, alarmed. “Are you unwell?”
Tobin strode forward, his gaze locked on her coach as it stopped with a jerk. Lily fumbled with the door latch. “I beg you forgive me, my lord, but I cannot attend the opera with you, for I have—I have given my heart to someone else.” She flung open the door just as Tobin reached her. Lily had no idea how she managed to get out—she sort of tumbled out, but Tobin was there to catch her in his arms.
“Lady Ashwood!” Merrick cried with alarm. “What are you doing?”
“What I should have done days ago,” she said breathlessly. “You must go, my lord. They will be waiting.”
Merrick looked as stunned as he was angry. He gestured to the coachman who had jumped off the back to shut the door, then he knocked the ceiling to signal the driver, and the coach rolled away.
Lily looked at Tobin. His expression was swimming in relief and adoration. “I thought you wouldn’t come,” he said roughly and gathered her up in an embrace. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”
Cradled against his chest, Lily smiled. This was where she belonged. “Come,” she said. “We’ve caused enough scandal for one evening. Shall we go?”
With his arm around her waist, he directed her to a coach that was waiting at the curb.
Tobin’s Mayfair home was as grand as Tiber Park. Clearly no expense had been spared, from the fine Belgian carpets, to the silken draperies and wall coverings.
Tobin guided her down a wide hallway to a pair of highly polished oak doors. Inside, a fire was blazing in an enormous hearth.
Tobin strode across the room to a sideboard and poured two glasses of whiskey. He handed Lily one.
“I do not—”
“Drink,” he commanded. “It’s been rather a dramatic half hour.”
She closed her eyes and tossed the drink down her throat, wincing at the burn. A moment later, warmth began to spread through her. She opened her eyes; Tobin was watching her, drinking her in, his eyes shining. “You wore the gown, and it’s as stunning as I knew it would be. A perfect vision.”
She smiled.
“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he said again.
“Nor did I,” she confessed quietly.
Tobin swallowed. “I would not have blamed you if you hadn’t. But I am very glad that you are here.”
“I came to London to make a match,” she admitted. “It seemed the thing to do after the ball.”
Tobin clenched his jaw and glanced down, nodding.
“And I came because I wanted to find the jewels. But why did you come?”
He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “I intended to escape, but something extraordinary happened to me. I tried to deny that it had, but in the end, I could deny it no longer. Frankly, I didn’t care to deny it any longer.”
A swell of emotion filled Lily. She knew what he meant, for something extraordinary had happened to her, too.
“I had no intention of acting on it,” he confessed. “I thought I would put you behind me. I am not a man who is accustomed to having anyone inhabit this,” he said, tapping his chest. “Yet somehow, you found the door and walked in as if you had possessed it all along.”
She smiled as her own heart filled with joy. “I feared
losing everything,” she said. “My title, my estate. My place in society. But when I saw you standing there, waiting for me, I realized that there are really very few things in life worth having.”
The hard planes of Tobin’s face softened, as if the tension holding them taut had disappeared. “What are those things?”
“Love,” she said without hesitation. “I do love you, Tobin. Much more than I would have ever dreamed was possible. And belonging. I thought I had found the place I belonged in my title and the inheritance of Ashwood. But those are only things. I realized that where I belong is with you. That’s the sort of belonging I have been seeking all my life.”
She never did finish her speech. Tobin suddenly grabbed her in his arms, kissing her fiercely. “I love you, Lily. I never thought myself capable of it, but my poor heart is laboring with the heaviness of it. You are the light in me, you are the green in the mud—”
“Mud?”
“And I belong with you. God in heaven, I belong with you. I have been a fool to have taken so long to accept it. But now that I have you, I will not let you go.”
It was almost as if a dam within Tobin had burst. His emotions, his desire, his need for her, were flowing out of him, raining down on Lily in his kisses and in the strokes of his hands.
He cupped her face in his hands and gazed at her. “You are extraordinarily beautiful,” he murmured. “In all ways.” He kissed her, then grabbed her hand in his and started striding for the door.
“What? Wait!” Lily cried. “Where are we going?”
He said nothing but marched her down the hall, past his footmen, past Carlson, then up his curving staircase and to the end of the corridor, where a chambermaid with her arms full of linens scampered out of their way. He opened a door and ushered Lily inside, then closed it and locked it.
“Tobin!” Lily said breathlessly. “This is a bedchamber!”
“It is,” he agreed. “And this is where I shall make you my wife—in spirit, that is, until we have put ourselves before a minister.”