Free The Revenge of Lord Eberlin by Julia London Page A

gown off any woman—
    An idea suddenly came to her. An awful, impractical, ill-advised, imprudent idea. Lily suddenly paused in her pacing.
    What she was thinking was so bold that she could scarcely believe she was considering it. Tobin had given her what he believed was an impossible bargain. And she would never give in to such an immoral demand, for she was a woman of proper morals, a countess with a reputation to uphold.
    But that did not mean she couldn’t use his debauchery to her advantage. Mr. Fish had said they needed six months to turn the fields to make up for the loss of the hundred acres, and that it was imperative that they keep their tenants to help sow and harvest those fields. And in six months, their mill would be operating before Tobin’s was even completed. So somehow, Lily had to make Tobin believe that for six months, he’d won.
    What if . . . what if she allowed him to believe she had taken his offer and was giving herself in exchange for Ashwood? But how could she do that without actually sacrificing her virtue? And more importantly, draw it out for six long months?
    Lily pondered this idea. Six months seemed an awfully long time to play a dangerous game with a dangerous man, and she had no doubts that he couldbe quite dangerous in this regard. But she also recalled what Mr. Fish had said to her—that any man worth his salt would fall in love with her, given the slightest bit of encouragement. It was heady praise, but was it fair? If it was fair, then what if . . . what if Tobin fell in love with her?
    Lily slowly sank down on her chaise. Am I capable of such trickery? She was not Keira, who enjoyed toying with men. Yet she wasn’t unpracticed in the art of holding a gentleman’s attention, either. She and Keira had made a sport of it in Ireland, and Lily had perfected the skill in Italy. She had the sort of physical attributes men generally admired, and it would be disingenuous to feign ignorance of her ability to draw men to her. Why, in Italy alone, in addition to Mr. Canavan, she’d had two gentlemen who had been keen to court her, and she’d juggled them all expertly across the Italian countryside. Was Tobin so different from them?
    He was unlike any other man she’d ever known. Yet she knew him in a way that she did not know any other gentleman. She’d known Tobin when he’d been a guileless, thoughtful boy. Surely that boy was still present in some part of him.
    And Lily had felt his desire simmering in the way he had stood so close to her, had touched his lips to her skin, had kissed her mouth. “Lord,” she murmured and restlessly put her hand to her nape, recalling the tension between them.
    Was she overestimating her appeal? Did she truly have the power to beguile him? Lily tried to imagine flirting with Tobin and groaned softly. “What do you think, that he will crumble at your feet?” She snorted and stared up at the painted garlands and trees and birds on the ceiling.
    She was completely mad to even imagine it, but yet again, she had everything to lose if she didn’t try. She had to at least try to avert her destruction without losing herself completely. Perhaps she could win. Perhaps, at the very least, she could rekindle their friendship. Surely that childhood attachment still existed within him. Surely all things were possible.
    With a sigh, Lily closed her eyes. “Lord save me—if not from my enemies, then at least from myself,” she whispered.

     
    The problem chased Lily through that night and into the following day. She was reviewing the books, looking for anything that might help them, when she heard the sound of gunfire. She glanced toward the window. “What is that?” she asked Preston, the footman who attended her.
    “Hunters, I should think, mu’um.”
    But . . . Mr. Bevers was in Hadley Green today. There was no one who would be hunting without him. “Oh, no,” she said and abruptly stood. “No, no, no. ”
    “Madam?” Preston said, looking