The Revenge of Lord Eberlin

by Julia London

  “What do you think, Ann?” Lily asked the maid attending her.

  Ann leaned forward and looked out the window. “It does not seem too deep, mu’um.”

  “Please?” Lucy begged.

  “You must wear a proper cloak and mittens,” Lily said.

  “And a bonnet!” the girl exclaimed as she hurried for the door, nearly colliding with Ann.

  “You mustn’t stay out for very long or you’ll catch your death.”

  “I won’t!” Miss Taft sang as she ran out of the room.

  Lily smiled weakly at Tobin. Her black hair had been braided and was draped over one shoulder like a stole. She was nestled against a stack of pillows, wan and bleary-eyed. “You came in the snow, my lord? Whatever for? Surely you do not care to risk contagion of the plague,” she muttered morosely. “Ann does not fear it. She stays by my side, quite unconcerned about my imminent demise.”

  Ann laughed. “I do not think you are in much danger, mu’um.”

  “Tell that to Dr. Trittman.”

  “I heard you had taken ill,” Tobin said, feeling a tremor of worry rifle through him. He’d thought he’d find her reposing in her dressing gown looking a bit tired. Not like this.

  “Do my ears deceive me?” she said with a wary smile. “Did you come to inquire after my welfare?”

  He smiled and glanced slyly at the maid, who was folding linens across the room. “Well obviously I cannot ruin you properly if you are ill,” he said softly. “So I respectfully request that you improve.”

  Lily made a sound that might have been a laugh, but it quickly deteriorated into a cough. “I shall endeavor to do my best,” she hoarsely assured him.

  It had been a mistake to come here. Looking at Lily now—just days ago the very picture of feminine health—Tobin was reminded of his dying mother. She’d lain in her bed, her skin sallow, her hair gray and dull. Lily did not look as ill as that, but seeing her this way made him feel so uncomfortable that he could not help shifting his shoulders to try and shake off the feeling. “Are you on the mend, then?” he asked as casually as he could manage.

  “Dr. Trittman would have you believe that is not a foregone conclusion. It would seem I have a rather persistent fever. Yet I do feel somewhat better, although Dr. Trittman will not believe it. He says I look too sickly.”

  “You look . . . remarkably fetching,” he said honestly.

  Lily smiled gratefully. “Oh, Tobin. On occasion, you really are rather kind.”

  “I am not a kind man,” he said instantly, yet Lily would not stop smiling at him, so Tobin turned away and moved to the window. The snow was falling in thick, fat flakes.

  The maid puttered in and out of the adjoining room, smiling nervously at Tobin.

  “Tobin?”

  Tobin looked over his shoulder at Lily.

  “I have lain here these last few days with memories falling into place. I must know.”

  “You mustn’t tire yourself. Do not trouble yourself with this now.” He wanted nothing more from her at present than her regained health. He did not want to think about all that had happened in this house.

  “I intend to look with or without you, you know,” she said stubbornly and tried to sit up. “It seems to me that if we work together, we might recall more. It might lead us to the truth—”

  “It makes no difference to me,” he said curtly. “It is over and done, Lily. Finding the jewels will not change anything.”

  “It makes a difference to me,” she said. “It could mean the difference between poverty and . . . oh, never mind.” She sighed deeply.

  Tobin wanted to ask what she meant by that, but she looked so tired. “I did not come here to distress you,” he said and moved to her bedside. He held out the invitation.

  Lily’s dark brows rose. “What is this?”

  He did not answer.

  She took the vellum and opened it. Her brows sank as she read it. “An invitation to your ball? I hope you do not feel compelled to teach me some lesson you think I ought to have learned, for I confess, I am not feeling up to it.”

  Tobin refused to deny it, for it was true. And while he usually felt nothing about such an admission, he was annoyingly troubled by it now.

  Lily dropped the invitation into her lap and sank back into the pillows once more, her gaze on the windows.

  She looked so forlorn, her braid a streak of black across her heart. He wanted to speak, he wanted something to say, but the longer he stood there trying to grasp exactly what that was, he became aware of the tightness in his throat, choking off any attempt at speech.

  She sighed once more, her chest rising softly and falling again. Tobin had an almost overpowering urge to press the back of his hand against her cheek and feel her fever. But he could only clasp his hands and stand there like the ogre he was beginning to feel he was.

  “Shall I ring for tea?” the maid asked, appearing once more at Lily’s bedside. “It’s medicinal, and Mrs. Cuthbert said it would give you a bit of pluck.”

  “I shall leave you to your convalescence,” Tobin said. “Good day.” He quit her room before she could speak and swept down his father’s staircase, rushing down as if he were late for an important engagement. His head felt as if it were held in a vise. His heart raced; his throat closed tighter. It wasn’t until he was out on the drive, up on his horse, that he could release the breath that had been held captive in his lungs. It came out in a coarse cough, so loud that the stable boy jumped.

  Tobin spurred his horse to a gallop, drawing frigid air into his lungs. But he hadn’t gone far when he realized that the snow was already several inches deep. He slowed his horse, moving cautiously. But when his mount misstepped off the side of the road, Tobin realized he had to turn back. He could not risk a prize horse for the sake of his pride.

  He reined his horse around and looked at Ashwood. He cursed under his breath, and like a dog with his tail between his legs, he rode back to seek refuge.

  THIRTEEN

  Cold awakened Lily from a deep sleep, and she sat up, blinking in the low light of the fireplace. She looked at the window and saw that night had fallen. She squinted at the clock on her mantel. It was half past five in the afternoon. She’d been asleep more than four hours.

  The door opened and Ann slipped in. “You’re awake!” she said.

  “Have I really slept as long as this?” Lily asked sleepily.

  “Aye, mu’um,” Ann said, fluffing Lily’s pillows. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” Lily said, and yawned. “Quite honestly, I’d like nothing more than to get out of this wretched bed.”

  “Dr. Trittman says you’re to stay in it.”

  “Dr. Trittman is overly cautious. Please find me a dressing gown and some slippers. I should like to sit by the fire.”

  Ann helped her into a wool dressing gown and a chair at the hearth. Grateful to be upright, Lily tucked her feet up beneath her and leaned on one arm of the chair, letting the heat from the fire warm her face. “How much has it snowed?” she asked.

  “At least a foot!” Ann exclaimed. “And so early in the season yet! Enough that his lordship was forced to turn round and come back.”

  “Pardon? Eberlin? He came back here?”

  “Aye, mu’um,” Ann said as she began to strip the bed of linens. “He’ll have to stay the night.” She paused and chuckled. “Linford, he was at sixes and sevens when his lordship returned. He said, ‘What am I to do with him?’”

  “What did Linford do with him?” Lily asked curiously.

  “Oh, Mrs. Thorpe, she said, ‘Linford, you will put him in the green suite, as far from her ladyship as he can be.’” Ann glanced sheepishly at Lily. “Beggin’ your pardon,” she added with a dip of a curtsy. “Louis showed him up, and when he came back to us below stairs, he said that the count instructed him you were not to be disturbed, that he didn’t want to interfere with your convalescence, and he would take his supper in his rooms at seven o’clock.”

  “H
e said all that, did he?” It was just like Tobin, Lily thought as she leaned her head back against the chair. Presuming to direct her staff as if they were already his own. “And Lucy?”

  “Oh, she kept his lordship company most the afternoon. Mrs. Thorpe said Miss Taft had his lordship to tea in the nursery, made him sit at the little table and chairs all folded up on to himself until Mrs. Thorpe rescued him. She said she’d take her supper in the nursery with Miss Taft.” Ann smiled. “Mrs. Thorpe said that her hopping about like a mad hare would try anyone’s nerves, most especially the infirm. And Miss Taft, she said, she didn’t know what infirm meant, but she reckoned Mrs. Thorpe must be the most infirm of anyone she’d ever met, as she tried her nerves best of all.”

  Lily laughed softly. “Perhaps I should bring her here and spare Mrs. Thorpe.”

  “Oh, no, mu’um. Mrs. Thorpe, she talks as if she’s put out, but she could have any one of us to dine with Miss Taft, couldn’t she? She prefers to do it herself. I think she’ll sorely miss the girl when she’s off to Ireland.”

  Wouldn’t they all? “Well then,” Lily said, “it appears as if I will be hostess this evening. Tell Linford I shall dine with Count Eberlin in my sitting room here, whether the count likes it or not.”

  “Lady Ashwood!” Ann exclaimed. “Are you certain? You’re quite ill yet, and he is . . . he is . . .”

  “He is a guest in my house. And I should rather know what he’s about than lie here wondering.”

  With Ann’s help, Lily washed her face and combed her limp hair. She was too weary to have it dressed, so she let the long tresses hang free. She donned a plain day gown and wrapped herself in a wool wrap. It was hardly the most fashionable thing she owned, but tonight she hardly cared. She wanted only to have her supper and go to bed.

  At a quarter ’til seven, Linford arrived with Preston in tow to ready her sitting room for supper. “Shall I help you into the sitting room?” Ann asked.

  Lily smiled at her. “I am only ill, Ann, not lame. I can manage.”

  In the sitting room, Lily was instantly drawn to the warmth of the roaring fire Linford had built. She was leaning in to soak up the heat when Tobin arrived. “Lady Ashwood.”

  So formal! “Count Eberlin,” she said gravely.

  “I came as you asked, but I would have preferred to dine in the rooms your staff has so graciously allowed me for the night. I do not want to disturb you.”

  “Yes, so I’ve been told,” she said and gestured to the chair beside her. “But I would prefer you here, where I can see you.”

  He arched a brow. “If one did not know better, one might assume you had grown fond of me.”

  “And if one did not know better, one would assume you could be trusted.” She smiled. “Please sit, Tobin.”

  He sat, leaning back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, his brown eyes steady on her. “You seem improved. Not as pale.”

  “I am feeling improved.” She drew her wrap more closely about her.

  “Are you cold?” He instantly moved to the hearth, going down on one knee to stoke it.

  “My lord, allow me,” Linford said, hurrying forward.

  “I don’t mind in the least,” Tobin said.

  He was the sort of man accustomed to doing for himself, Lily guessed. Building his own fires, sailing his own ships . . . if one were not engaged in battle with him, one might admire him very much. One might see the strength in his shoulders and hips, and the swell of muscle in his arms and legs and think, now there is a man who—

  “Is that better?” he asked, turning to face her again.

  Lily blinked. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Shall I serve, madam?” Linford asked.

  “Please.”

  Tobin was quick to help her to her feet, then into a chair at the small table. He kept his gaze on Lily as Preston served soup into their bowls.

  Lily ignored Tobin’s intent gaze—the smell of food stirred her, and her body reacted. She picked up her spoon and tasted the onion soup, briefly closing her eyes as the warmth trickled through her. When she opened them again, Tobin was smiling.

  “Do you mind?” she asked apologetically. “I feel as if I haven’t eaten in months.”

  “Not at all,” he said, gesturing to her bowl. “I am happy to see you with an appetite. I had not given you favorable odds of survival earlier today. Now, I have hope that you will recover completely.”

  “You should never have doubted it,” she said as she gladly took the bread that Linford offered her. “I can’t possibly expire before I’ve won our little war.”

  “So we are back to war, are we?” he asked. “I rather thought we’d agreed otherwise.”

  Lily glanced up and Tobin gave her a subtle wink that spread more warmth through her and prickled at her scalp. “Make no mistake, sir, we are still very much at war. Unless, of course, you’ve had a complete change of heart?”

  “Hardly.” He grinned and lifted his wineglass. “To a worthy adversary whom I hold in very high regard.”

  Lily wished she had the strength to kick his shins. “Is it your regard for me that makes you so determined to—” She remembered Linford and Preston, who stood in silent attention, and caught herself.

  “That, madam, is something altogether different.”

  Lily blushed.

  Tobin grinned.

  They spoke idly of the weather through the first course, but when the butler had served the main course, Lily said, “Linford, thank you. I think the count and I shall manage from here.”

  “Yes, madam,” he said.

  Tobin picked up his fork as Linford and Preston removed themselves from the room, leaving the door open.

  “You always have so many questions for me, but tonight, I have one for you,” Tobin said.

  “Oh?”

  “How have you remained unattached?”

  Surprised, Lily asked, “I beg your pardon?”

  “Surely I am not the first person to wonder. Is it not true that the most desirable women are snatched up the moment they are deemed old enough to wed?” he asked, and ate a healthy bite of ham. “I wonder why you have not been snatched up, Lily Boudine.”

  With a flick of her wrist, Lily said, “The answer is simple. I have never felt what one should feel for a gentleman if one is contemplating spending the rest of one’s life with him.”

  “No?”

  “I don’t think it comes to me as easily as it does for others.” She laughed softly. “I have two cousins who feel that way about every gentleman who pays them attention. But I’ve never had that feeling.”

  Tobin dropped his gaze and shifted uncomfortably. “I understand.”

  “Do you?” she asked lightly. She really doubted he understood her at all. Men had a different sort of experience after all. The freedom to choose whom they liked. To pursue and court and wed as they desired.

  “I have long believed I am incapable of that sort of feeling,” he said.

  That admission surprised Lily. “You’re not incapable.”

  He shrugged as if it had been a trifling matter and continued his meal.

  “A pity, for I would guess you to be in great demand, with so much to recommend you.”

  He snorted. “Even in your state of ill health, you do not believe that.”

  “But I do!” she insisted. “The people of Hadley Green are quite taken with you. You are, without a doubt, the most desired and eligible bachelor for miles around.”

  He chuckled. “Then you must be the most eligible unmarried female in perhaps all of England.”

  Lily groaned playfully. “If that were the least bit true, Mr. Fish would be quite pleased to hear it. He is determined that I shall marry a titled man as the original decree demands, you know.”

  Tobin gave her a sly look. “Have you any prospects?”

  “Not a single one,” she said laughingly. “But Mr. Fish is quite happy the Darlingtons are coming to Kitridge Lodge, for apparently there remain scores of unmarried, we
althy sons in that family.”

  Tobin smiled, but it seemed an absent smile to her. He turned his attention to his plate.

  Lily put her fork down. “And what of you?” she asked. “Have you anyone in mind to marry? Perhaps Miss Babcock?”

  Tobin shrugged. “She is handsome, I’ll say that for her.”

  “She is very much anticipating your ball. I suppose I must find something suitable to wear.” Lily sighed. Already full after only a few bites of her supper, she leaned back, contemplating her wardrobe. “What should a lamb wear to a slaughter?”

  “Slaughter,” Tobin scoffed. “There will be no slaughter, Lily.”

  “Oh, but I don’t trust you in the least,” she said. “You did not invite me until weeks after you’d invited everyone in Hadley Green. How can I possibly trust your motives?”

  “You will have to take me at my word—have I not been true to my word thus far?”

  “Yes, you have.” She smiled at him. “What if I declined your invitation?”

  “I would come and drag your from your rooms,” he said with a wink.

  Lily could feel a current running between them, a familiar current that was beginning to run quite deep. She smiled wryly. “You will cause me to believe I have misjudged you yet again.”

  “You always were a clever girl.”

  “Was I?” She was strangely pleased to hear him say it.

  “Very. Obstinate and stubborn, as well,” he added with the hint of a smile. “But always clever.”

  “You were quiet,” she said. “You rarely had much to say.”

  “I could rarely manage to insert a word amidst all that chatter.”

  “What chatter!”

  “It was constant,” he said, grinning. “A veritable river of words flowing forth.”

  Lily laughed warmly. But her thoughts quickly swirled back to her aunt, and she imagined her, as she had through many grotesque dreams in Ireland, floating facedown on the lake behind the house. “Tobin?” She sat up, leaned forward. “Let’s find the jewels.”

  He sighed. “Ah, Lily—”

  “I do understand your view of it, I do,” she insisted. “But I feel it is the only thing I can do to correct the many terrible things that happened that summer. It is as much for my aunt as it is for your father.”