by Julia London
In the coach with the box, Lily held the portrait in her hands. “We must find her, you know.”
“We haven’t even a name, love,” Tobin said. “There is nothing in this box but old ledgers. It will take us days to sort through it all.”
“We have a name,” Lily said with a smile. “She was Lisette Elizabeth Tolly.” She grinned at him and turned the portrait over. At the bottom, her name had been written. “That’s the necklace, Tobin. I remember it clearly. This is exactly what we need to find her!”
“Yes, well . . . I think we have a few other things that demand more immediate attention,” he said, taking her hand.
She grinned and leaned across the carriage to kiss him. “I agree. I’ll have Mr. Fish begin to look while we take care of other things.”
“Then put that aside and come here,” Tobin said, and pulled her across the carriage to him.
TWENTY-EIGHT
It took only a week before gossip began to filter into Hadley Green that something untoward had happened in London between Lady Ashwood and Count Eberlin. The assumption among members of The Society was that it must have been unspeakably scandalous, for the vicar had been called to Ashwood to perform a wedding, at which only the count’s sister and niece had been in attendance. It was said that the Duke of Darlington himself had secured their dispensation to marry without posting the banns.
“Lord Eberlin has wed?” Miss Babcock wailed to her mother when she heard the news.
“Lady Ashwood has married him?” Mrs. Ogle sniffed to Mrs. Morton. “She could have brought a real title here. Hasn’t she a certain responsibility to us all? That seems rather selfish to me.”
Lily and Tobin were blissfully unconcerned about the gossip. They were quite happy to settle in to their new lives as husband and wife and the journey of rediscovering the children they had once been. They did, however, finally venture into the village a fortnight after their hasty marriage to sign the parish marriage register. When they entered the small common hall where Tobin’s father had been tried and where fifteen years later Tobin had been given one hundred of Ashwood’s acres, he felt the tightening of his chest. He tried desperately to push it down, and coughed. Lily did not say a word but wrapped her fingers tightly around his, as if to say, “Hold on to me.” It was comforting to Tobin in a way nothing else was, and while the spell did not disappear entirely, it was much less severe than it had been in the past.
Everything seemed better than before with Lily.
Mr. Fish was perhaps the most perplexed by their marriage. “I thought he was our foe,” he said, clearly confused.
“He was. But not really.” Lily laughed; it was impossible to explain. “And there is more,” she said. She showed him and Linford the portrait of Mrs. Tolly and pointed to the necklace.
“There’s the countess’s necklace,” Linford said, squinting at the painting. “Is that the countess, then? Don’t recall that she looked quite like that.”
Lily explained to Mr. Fish and Linford that there was likely another, more legitimate heir to Ashwood.
“Impossible,” Mr. Fish said.
“Quite possible, actually. We must find him, of course.”
Mr. Fish gaped at her. “Madam, I advise you leave well enough alone. Do you understand what it would mean if another heir were to be found?”
“I do.” She smiled serenely. “It means that I would no longer be the countess. I will be simply Mrs. Scott. Or Lady Eberlin.” She paused and frowned thoughtfully. “At least I think I will be Lady Eberlin. I am not entirely certain how one assumes a purchased title.” She laughed and shrugged. “Nevertheless, we shall keep Ashwood in the best of shape until we find the true heir. You will find him, won’t you, Mr. Fish? And the jewels! We must find the jewels as well, if he has a hope of turning Ashwood about.”
Mr. Fish sighed. He thought back to the two ladies he had served and wondered if a man would make his job easier in any way. It would certainly make it less interesting. “I will endeavor to do my best.”
In the meantime, Tobin decided to give up his trade in arms, believing it was not the best of occupations when one had a family. He began working out the terms for passing his trade to MacKenzie and Bolge.
Lily and Tobin made their home at Tiber Park. It seemed only right, seeing as how she likely had no claim to Ashwood. And since Tiber Park was so large, Lily found a way to bridge the chasm between her and Charity: she appealed to Charity’s far superior house management skills. Charity was resistant at first, but after a few days of seeing maids running here and there without planned purpose, she sighed and looked at her sister-in-law. “Did they teach you nothing in Ireland?”
“They taught me to ride,” Lily cheerfully boasted.
Charity rolled her eyes and put out her hand for the household account books that Lily was perusing. “Let’s have a look,” she said.
It was a fragile peace, but one that would be strengthened over time.
Lily’s life seemed perfect to her. She was as happy as she’d ever been in her life. Only one thing seemed missing, and that was Lucy. She expressed that to Tobin in passing.
Late one Sunday afternoon, when Charity and Catherine had gone to London, Lily and Tobin lay naked in their bed, watching the fire in the hearth.
“Are you happy?” Tobin asked and kissed her shoulder.
Surprised, Lily paused. “Happy?” She thought of all she’d lost: her title. Her estate. Her good name and reputation. But she looked at all she’d gained: a husband whom she loved more with each passing day and who loved her. A sister, reluctant as Charity was to be one. A sense of belonging. Lily and Tobin would form their own society, filled with laughter and, hopefully, lots of children. An army of them if Lily had her way.
“Yes. I am happy,” Lily said and kissed his chest. “Happier than I thought was possible.”
He smiled at her and kissed her hand. “I have a surprise for you.”
She laughed. “You have given me more jewelry than I can possibly wear.”
“It’s not jewelry. And it requires you ride.”
“But . . . it’s almost dark,” Lily said, looking out the window.
“Are you afraid? I’ll keep you safe. Come, then.” He playfully pushed her toward the edge of the bed.
Lily reached for her dressing gown. “What sort of surprise must one ride to?”
“You will see.”
A half hour later, the pair rode down to the river road and turned up toward the idle Tiber Park mill. The winter sun was just beginning to slide down the horizon in shades of orange and pink. It was strange, Lily thought, how their destinies had been forever linked on a cold and rainy summer night fifteen years ago, and had come full circle to this, a crisp, cool winter evening with stars beginning to twinkle over their heads.
Tobin guided his horse to the mill road and Lily followed. As they neared the mill, she could see light in the windows.
“The mill is operating?” she asked. “But I thought . . .” She was distracted by the sight of an enormous red bow on the mill’s wheel. “What is that?” she exclaimed.
“My surprise for you.” He jumped down from his horse and came around to lift her down. “You were so determined to have your mill at Ashwood that I thought I would give you one of your own here, as well.”
Lily looked at the mill. Candles were blazing in the windows. “Tobin . . . I don’t want a mill. I don’t need a mill.”
He smiled enigmatically. “You will want this one.” He took her hand and led her forward. As they neared the door, it opened and light spilled out.
Mr. Hollis stepped out. “There you are, my lord, all at the ready.”
“Thank you. You may go home to your family now.”
Mr. Hollis touched the brim of his hat and nodded at Lily before walking on.
“I cannot imagine what you are about,” Lily said, but Tobin only smiled. He held the door open for her.
Lily stepped inside and looked around. She had to remind hersel
f to breathe. The mill had been turned into a playhouse. There were structures to climb and a pair of swings that hung in the middle of the space. There were tables built into the walls at a height for children. There were easels and balls and rocking horses.
“It is for our children,” Tobin said. “Granted, we haven’t any as yet, but I believe Sister Rosens might also find it a pleasurable destination for her orphans.”
Lily whirled around and gaped at him. “Tobin Scott!”
Tobin blinked. “Why do you look at me thus? Is it not to your liking?”
“Not to my liking?” She half leapt, half ran into his arms, throwing hers around his neck and smothering him with kisses. “Thank you, thank you. I could never ask for a better surprise. I love you!”
Tobin laughed. “I love you,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “I want to make you happy, Lily.”
“You’ve made me very happy.” She leaned back and grinned at him.
Tobin gathered his wife in his arms and swung her around. He kissed her deeply, then said, “Want to swing?”
Lily didn’t need to swing. She was already soaring.
EPILOGUE
A deluge was pouring from the sky on the afternoon that Mr. Fish found the Carey estate. It was, as the crofter had said, off the main road . . . far off the main road. So far off that Mr. Fish struggled to navigate his little phaeton down the muddy lane.
At the gates of the estate, a gateman appeared, peering at Mr. Fish curiously as rain ran in rivulets off his hat. “Mr. Tolly? If he ain’t at the main house, then he’s at the dowager’s house. That’s where he stays. Bear right at the elm.”
Mr. Fish glanced at the lane. He could not risk getting his carriage stuck, so he pulled aside and decided to walk. He stuffed the papers beneath his coat, adjusted his hat against the rain, and struck out, his Wellingtons splashing through puddles with each step.
The main house, which he could see through yet another gate set in ivy-covered stone walls, was as large as Tiber Park, but considerably older. It was a type of house that one often saw in England, obviously in the family for centuries, with bits and pieces added on through the years. There was money here, obviously.
At the elm, Mr. Fish bore right. He expected to see a small cottage, something suitable for a doddering old woman. But the dowager house was no cottage. It was at least as large as Kitridge Lodge.
He could see light flickering in the ground-floor windows as he approached the house. He tried to knock the mud off his boots but was unsuccessful. He scraped the bottoms as best he could and walked up the steps, lifted the brass knocker, and knocked.
A maid answered the door. “Aye, sir?”
“Mr. Harrison Tolly, if you please.”
A man appeared behind the maid. “Thank you, Rue,” he said, and filled in the space the girl left. He was tall, with dark brown hair and eyes the color of a stormy sky. “Yes?” he said, looking, Mr. Fish thought, as if he was in something of a hurry.
“Mr. Harrison Tolly?”
“Yes,” he said, frowning. “Who are you? What is this about?”
“I am Mr. Theodore Fish, sir,” Fish said, bowing slightly. “I may have some rather stunning news for you.”
Mr. Tolly sighed, as if he’d heard stunning news all day and was weary of it. “And what would that be, Mr. Fish?”
“Are you familiar with the name Ashwood?”
The man’s demeanor changed. He stilled, staring at Mr. Fish as if he was seeing a ghost.
“I take it that the name is familiar to you,” Mr. Fish said.
Mr. Tolly’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you? And what the devil is this about?”
“If I may come in, sir? It is all quite convoluted and requires more than a cursory explanation.”
Mr. Tolly glanced quickly over his shoulder, then at Mr. Fish, his gaze taking him in from head to toe. “Yes. Come, come,” he said reluctantly, gesturing for Mr. Fish to come inside to share his convoluted news.
Turn the page for a special look at the exciting conclusion to the Hadley Green trilogy
The Seduction of Lady X
by New York Times bestselling author
Julia London
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The hallway at Everdon Court that led to the Marquis of Carey’s private study was as long and as daunting as the choir aisle at Westminster Abbey, and with every step, Alexa sniffed a little louder and tried to suppress her sobs a little harder.
It felt as if the two of them were slowly proceeding toward the gallows, one leaden step at a time. “Buck up, Alexa,” Olivia muttered as they passed a pair of footmen and pulled her younger sister closer into her side. “There is nothing to be done for it. You must face up to what you’ve done.”
“Yes, I know I must,” Alexa said weakly. “But I do not understand why you cannot tell him for me.”
Olivia sighed. Alexa knew very well why. Olivia had waited as long as she might before Alexa’s thickening waistline would draw attention, but she could wait no longer. If her husband discovered Alexa’s condition before Olivia told him, she and Alexa would both suffer for it.
She could guess what sort of suffering Edward would inflict on them, and on that rain-soaked afternoon, Olivia thought it entirely possible that she dreaded telling him even more than Alexa did.
After what seemed an interminable walk, they reached the polished oak doors to the study. As Olivia lifted her hand to rap, Alexa sagged against her. “I am so weary,” she uttered. “I do not feel well.”
“Stand up,” Olivia said and jostled Alexa, forcing her to stand, then rapped on the door.
One of the twin-paneled doors swung open immediately, and behind it, a footman bowed. “Is my husband within, Charles?” Olivia asked.
Before Charles could respond, she heard her husband’s voice. “Come.”
Olivia looked at Alexa and entered, half pulling, half leading her sister with her. But as she crossed the threshold, she discovered her husband was not alone. Mr. Tolly was present as well.
Mr. Tolly smiled warmly as they entered, inclining his head in greeting. “Lady Carey. Miss Hastings. How do you do?”
“Ah . . .” Olivia tried to think of an appropriate response, given that they did not fare well at all.
“Yes? What is it?” her husband asked curtly without lifting his head from the papers on his desk.
Olivia shifted her gaze to Edward. “Alexa . . . and I . . . have something we must tell you,” she said. “May we have a moment?”
“Go on,” Edward said impatiently, “and be quick about it. As you can see, we are presently engaged.”
Olivia’s gaze flew to Mr. Tolly, whose smile made his gray eyes seem to dance. He bowed as he started to make his leave.
“Where are you off to, Tolly?” his lordship said. “You may stay.”
“Edward . . . it is personal,” Olivia said quickly. For Alexa’s sake, she did not want Mr. Tolly to be present.
“Mr. Tolly has heard more personal and private details about this family than even I. He will stay.” Edward lifted his head and looked at Olivia. “What is it?”
Mr. Tolly slowly stepped back, his expression suddenly stoic.
Olivia was thankful Mr. Tolly remained. He was the one person who could reason with Edward. Where others were quickly dismissed, Edward valued Mr. Tolly’s opinion. And once, on a particularly awful day, when Edward had lifted his hand to strike Olivia for some perceived slight, Mr. Tolly had been there to catch his arm and prevent him from striking her.
Shocked, Edward had bellowed, “You think to lay a hand on me? I will have your position!”
Mr. Tolly had calmly returned Edward’s gaze, as if the effort of stopping him required no strength at all. “Then have it. If you believe that my position here is more important to me than my code of conduct, you are mistaken. I will not stand by and allow any man to strike a woman.”
Olivia had expected his instant dismissal, even a brawl. But amazingly, Edward had gathe
red himself. And he’d never tried to strike Olivia again.
He preferred to strike her with words.
He’d not always been so cruel to her. Indifferent, perhaps, but not particularly cruel in the beginning. Yet as the years had slipped by and Olivia had not conceived a child, Edward’s regard for her had dwindled to nothing. The cruelty had begun three years ago, when Olivia had believed herself, at long last, to be pregnant. Edward had been so very happy. He’d pampered her, showered her with gifts . . . but after two months, her courses began to flow again, and Edward’s cruelty flowed right along with it.
“Why do you keep me waiting, Olivia?” Edward asked curtly, bringing her back to the mission at hand. “I told you I had work to do.”
Alexa shuddered; Olivia put her arm around her sister’s shoulders and began the little speech she’d privately rehearsed: Alexa had gone to Spain. Alexa had behaved poorly, for which she was terribly sorry. Alexa was with child. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Tolly flinch, and wondered if it was revulsion at what Alexa had done or recognition that this would not go well for anyone.
Olivia’s speech was followed by pure silence. There was not a breath, not a creak, as Edward turned his cold gaze to Alexa, who stood shaking before him.
Edward’s gaze flicked to her abdomen, then to her face. “Is this true?”
“Yes, my lord,” Alexa admitted, her voice scarcely more than a whisper.
“Who has done this?” he asked, his voice so soft and dangerously low that a shiver shot down Olivia’s spine. When Alexa did not answer straightaway, Edward smiled a little and said, “You may trust me, Alexa.”
No, Alexa, you cannot trust him! Never trust him!
Alexa lowered her gaze to the floor and shook her head. “I will not say.”
Olivia glanced at Mr. Tolly. He held her gaze a slender moment and she thought—or perhaps hoped—that she saw a flicker of reassurance in his eyes. He was always so calm, so hopeful! Olivia wanted to lean on him now, to put her head on his broad shoulder, to feel his arms, strong and protective around her, keeping her safe from Edward.