The Revenge of Lord Eberlin by Julia London Page A

for tea, her mind was buzzing with memories and thoughts. When Lily was a girl, Ashwood had been the premiere property in all of West Sussex. The Quality would come from London to take the air here. Wine and ale had flowed freely, and the staff of more than twenty had kept the house and grounds in pristine condition. Now, Lily was lucky to employ a dozen staff, and she fretted over her ability to keep them every day.
    What had happened to all the money? Mr. Fish said it was poor management, but Lily found it difficult to believe that a man as fiercely in control of his surroundings as the earl had been would be a poor steward of his inheritance. Nothing made sense to her anymore. It was terribly frustrating to think that the answers to her questions had died with Aunt Althea and Mr. Scott. There was no one left who could help her make sense of it; the only person who might possibly be able to help her piece it together was Tobin.
    If that was the case, then she would go to her grave wondering.
    At tea, as Lucy recounted her day in the flowing details of a child, Lily continued to brood on her predicament. She watched Lucy swirl her spoon in her teacup as she talked and thought that perhaps she could live an austere life—no new gowns, no beeswax candles. No soiree, certainly. No more charity. No charity! Which meant the orphans at St. Bartholomew would now suffer because of Tobin Scott’s twisted desire to ruin Ashwood. Did the man have no conscience? Was he incapable of understanding how many people he hurt?
    Lily’s mood was as black as the gloomy sky. She had foolishly believed that a title and inheritance might give her freedom, but it was beginning to seem quite the opposite. She felt trapped until a match came along, and no match would come if she had no purse.
    Lily smiled blankly at Lucy’s chatter, her fingers drumming mindlessly against her teacup as Linford served a bit of bread and some kippers. When she saw them, something inside Lily burst. They’d had kippers for lunch, and kippers yesterday as well—and now they’d have kippers in place of salmon?
    “Will you please explain to me, Linford,” she demanded of her butler at the sideboard, “why, at an estate as grand as Ashwood, we must be made to eat kippers at every meal?”
    “I beg your pardon, madam,” Linford said with a crooked bow, “but the fish are being harvested upstream to support Tiber Park. And the hunting is not as good as it has been in years past.”
    “Let me guess.” She angrily tossed her linen napkin aside. “Is Tiber Park hunting our forests?”
    “I cannot say, madam,” Linford said calmly. “Shall I have Mr. Fielding come round on the morrow?”
    “That will not be necessary.” Lily abruptly stood, waving off the footman who hurried to remove her chair. “Please have a carriage brought round.” She turned toward the door.
    “But where are you going?” Lucy asked plaintively.
    “I beg your pardon, darling,” Lily said, pausing briefly to cup Lucy’s face. “But there is a man who needs strangling.” She marched out, calling out to a startled Louis for her cloak.

FIVE

     
    T obin’s butler, Carlson, announced that Bolge was waiting for Tobin in the small study. Tiber Park was so grand that there was a small study, a larger library, private and public dining rooms, two drawing rooms, two salons, and a ballroom. Sometimes Tobin was amazed that he was the master of Tiber Park. He liked to imagine what his father might have thought of him.
    “Tell him I shall join him shortly,” Tobin said to Carlson. “And the others?” he asked, referring to Lord Horncastle, Mr. Sibley, and Captain MacKenzie.
    “The gentlemen Horncastle and Sibley await you in the gaming room,” Carlson said.
    Tobin added the plush red gaming room to his mental inventory of the rooms at his estate.
    “Captain MacKenzie sent word that he has been pleasurably detained in Hadley Green,” Carlson continued. “He asks that he might join you