The Revenge of Lord Eberlin (36 page)

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.”

Lily laughed. “So you
do
intend to make an honorable woman of me?”

He reached for her. “I cannot guarantee anything we do in here will be particularly honorable . . . but I promise not to tell. And I will promise you this—I will always love you, Lily Boudine.”

“And I love you, Tobin Scott.”

His hands began to move on her. Lily was consumed by the moment before he’d even begun to show her what it meant to make love. His lips seemed to glide over her skin. His touch was light and reverent, but so intense that she almost felt as if she’d been floating in his arms. When she sighed with pleasure, Tobin responded with a molten kiss. She could feel desire spiraling down her body, pooling in her breasts and groin.