The Revenge of Lord Eberlin (39 page)

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.

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

Coming soon from Pocket Star Books

T
he 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 gathered 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.

“You will not say?” Edward asked, rising from his seat.

“I will not,” Alexa repeated.

Edward made a sound of surprise. “But my dear, you must surely realize that if you refuse to tell me who has put this by-blow in you, I can only surmise that he is unsuitable in every imaginable way. Or . . . that you are a whore.”

Alexa choked back a sob.

“Edward, please,” Olivia pleaded.

Her husband shifted his hard gaze to her. “Please what?” he asked, the venom dripping from his cold smile.

“Please leave her be,” Olivia implored him. “She knows her mistake, and the good Lord knows she will pay for it in many ways for the rest if her life. You need not punish her further.”

“I see,” Edward said casually as came around to the front of his desk. “You suddenly believe yourself in a position to tell me what I need not do. Shall I tell you what I find interesting?” he asked as he sat on the edge of the desk.

‘No,” Olivia said quickly.

“I find it interesting that while you are as barren as a Scottish moor, your sister is a whore who will conceive a by-blow apparently with any man who lifts her skirts.”

Olivia’s face flamed. The conflict between her and her husband was no secret, but it was humiliating nonetheless.

“There is only one,” Alexa foolishly tried, but Edward quickly turned on her.

“Only one, eh?” He chuckled as if that was somehow amusing, and gestured to Alexa’s belly. “The only difference between the two of you is that one of you is only half a woman. One of you led me to believe she could give me heirs and cannot. Or will not.”

He shifted that hard gaze to Olivia, and Alexa burst into tears. Behind Edward, Mr. Tolly turned to look out the window, his hands on his hips. Olivia could see the tension in his jaw, as if he were fighting to keep from speaking.

“The question we have before us is what to do with this one,” Edward mused, his gaze raking over Alexa. “With your mother buried, there is no one who will stand up for you, is there?” he asked her. “Certainly not your scofflaw uncle Barstow. You are entirely at my mercy as your benefactor and provider. And yet, I am the second cousin to the king. The Carey name means quite a lot in this country. Do you mean to defile my good name? A name from which you derive social benefit from mere association?”