Sweet Enemy (16 page)

The card slid from her grasp. She instinctively clamped her fingers together, giving it an inadvertent tug.

Emily Morton shrieked and sat up, yanking her arm and the card completely out of Liliana’s reach. The sudden movement startled Liliana so, she jerked backward and toppled, landing solidly on her rear.

“What…?” came Emily’s bewildered voice. Liliana glanced up as a blond head appeared over the back of the chaise.

Liliana’s cheeks heated. “I’m sorry. I…” She clamped her lips. She could hardly say “I just need your dance card for one more moment, please.”

The girl frowned and narrowed her eyes. Liliana braved it out with a tight smile. Better to be thought clumsy than to be caught red-fingered, as it were.

Emily turned her back with a
humph
and hurried out of the room.

Muffled sniggers came from behind her. Liliana’s shoulders slumped. How she wished she could vaporize like mercury over a hot flame. She shuddered to think what story Miss Morton would be spreading about the ballroom this very moment.

The door clicked open as someone else entered the room. Wonderful.

“Dare I ask?” Penelope stepped around the chaise and reached down to her.

The two primpers edged past them and left the room, probably off to add their accounts to the tale. She could only hope Aunt Eliza didn’t hear of it.

Liliana accepted the hand up and dropped onto the chaise. “I’m stymied, Pen,” she sighed.

“Mmm,” Penelope murmured over the swish of her skirts as she lowered herself to sit beside Liliana.

“I just tried to lift a cursed dance card simply to get a look at Stratford’s handwriting.” Liliana slapped her palm sharply against her thigh, but the thick satin muffled the sound—leaving her quite unsatisfied.

“Whyever would you want to see Stratford’s handwriting?” Penelope asked, bemused.

“Because I’m utterly desperate,” Liliana admitted. “Presumably it was the late earl who corresponded with my father and who drew him out on the night he was murdered, as the letters were marked with his seal, but without a handwriting sample, I can’t be absolutely certain of that. I haven’t found a journal, correspondence, household accounts—anything that I can compare those letters to.” She dropped her head. “It’s as if everything
of a personal nature has been stripped from this house with military precision.”

“Oh,” Penelope said, her winged blond brows pulling slightly together. She patted Liliana’s hand. “But if you’re looking for the dead earl’s handwriting, why do you need to see Stratford’s? Wasn’t he already off to war when Uncle Charles was killed?”

“I’m not sure, precisely, when he left England. And besides…” Liliana sighed. Pen had done everything she’d asked of her in this charade, asking very little. It was only right to share her suspicions that her father had been involved in some sort of espionage and what logical implications sprang from that. Pen’s eyes widened with the telling. “So you see?” Liliana finished. “I need to rule Stratford out as the author of the letters. I also need to learn where both he and his father were during the months they were written, and particularly in December of 1803, but I’m coming up empty.”

Her feelings of defeat must have shown in her face, because Penelope put a consoling arm around her shoulder. They sat together in silence a moment before Pen said, “Servants! They know everything that goes on in a house, particularly when you wish they didn’t.”

“I thought of that,” Liliana said, “but Stratford’s brother turned the staff over completely during his tenure.” As she’d learned from the current housekeeper.

“I see,” Penelope said, touching a pink-gloved finger to her lip. “Perhaps some of those older servants still live in the village and would remember that winter.”

Liliana nodded, hope stirring to life. Improbable, maybe, that she would develop a lead from such a visit, but one thing her father taught her—keep experimenting until you find an answer. “But the village is not within walking distance, and I am at the mercy of Stratford’s stable.” How she hated this helpless feeling. “How would I get there?”

“Hmm…” Penelope seemed to deflate, echoing Liliana’s feelings. Then she brightened. “Well, if anyone can
find a way, you will. You have always been one who works doggedly for what you want. I remember how many nights you stayed awake until your candles were nubs to study your sciences. All because Mother thought she could force you to forget the idea if she insisted you complete her approved course work first.”

Liliana smiled reluctantly at the memory. Aunt Eliza had tried ceaselessly to mold her into the perfect English lady. She’d been adamant that Liliana study the typical feminine pursuits—French, literature, music, deportment. Even though Papa’s will had provided for her to study the natural sciences with a colleague of his, she was allowed to only
after
she finished her other studies. Liliana had slept very little. But she’d refused to give in, to lose what part of her father she still had by wasting her life on frivolity. To not use her intelligence to carry on his work would have been like him dying all over again. Like his life had meant nothing.

Some days, it had seemed an impossible task, but it had deepened her determination, a trait that served her well later in life as she struggled to become recognized in the scientific world even though a woman. And it would serve her well now. She would do whatever it took to find the answers she was looking for. Tomorrow she’d find a way to escape to the village. Her likelihood of success might be slim, but scientists dealt in seeming impossibilities every day.

The one thing she knew was that the only true failure was to quit trying.

And she would not give up today.

P

The day had dawned in brilliant hues. Pinks and deep yellows were just starting to chase away myriad colors of indigo and blue that hovered in the mist. It blanketed the ground, rising like smoke on the battlefield. Geoffrey squeezed his eyes shut and pushed Grin harder.

After ten years together in the 12th Light Dragoons, Geoffrey couldn’t have parted with the charger. The horse was a tie to his past, a bloody past he desperately wanted to let go of but never could. Grin was just as vital to his present. Without their daily ride, without the avenue to pound out the frustrations of this new life, Geoffrey didn’t know how he’d survive. He needed the escape, this morning in particular.

He drove the horse until Grin’s chest heaved beneath him. Geoffrey eased back on the reins, bringing Gringolet to a halt on the low rise overlooking the lake. He reached forward to stroke Grin’s sleek gray neck. The stallion’s heartbeat pulsed vigorously, as did his own. Grin blew a long breath that fluttered his horsey lips.

“I’m sorry, old boy. We’re not as young as we used to be,” Geoffrey lamented, a frown creasing his face. Why was he taking such chances? Only a fool would ride that dangerously fast without a host of enemies chasing him.

Geoffrey led his horse nearer to the water. The sunrise reflected in the still, glassy lake, and as Geoffrey looked out over the expanse, he envied its peace and serenity. God knew his life since inheriting the earldom had been severely lacking in those qualities.

As if taking on the enormous responsibilities of the earldom’s vast holdings and business dealings while wading through Parliament weren’t challenge enough, the blackmail threat had arrived earlier this week at his town house. No, his reign as earl had not been peaceful, and he had no expectation it would become so anytime soon.

Yet he suspected something else drove him to recklessness this morning.

Or rather some
one
else.

For the third night in a row, he’d been kept awake by thoughts and dreams of Liliana Claremont. Damn, but she’d gotten under his skin.

He’d done his best to ignore her since dinner three nights past, but his body hummed with awareness anytime they were in the same room. His eyes were drawn to her every efficient yet graceful move, his ears attuned to her husky voice. Even his nose smelled apples and lemons where there were none.

Like now. Geoffrey drew in a deep breath of crisp morning air to clear his senses.

This had to stop. But ignoring Liliana wasn’t working…The harder he tried, the more she haunted his dreams. Last night, his “fantasy Liliana” had come to him in the library clad only in a filmy ivory dressing gown. Her creamy golden skin had glowed against the lighter fabric, the hints of red in her hair glinting in the firelight. She’d said nothing, simply beckoned him with her violet gaze. She’d knelt before him and—

Dear God. His entire body hardened at the memory. He couldn’t go around like this for the remainder of the house party. What was it about that woman that attracted him so, against his better judgment?

Gringolet’s ears perked and the stallion raised his head, alert. Geoffrey looked in the same direction but saw nothing. Nor did he hear a sound out of place amidst nature’s morning cacophony. He’d learned years ago to trust Grin’s instincts, however. Geoffrey sat motionless, tense in the saddle, ready for whatever came.

The horse burst through the woodland into the meadow like a covey of grouse at first shot. Geoffrey could hear the echo of the nonexistent gunshot, so real was the impression. Then he realized it was simply his own heart pounding in his ears.

Liliana.

He wasn’t sure how he knew it was she, for the rider was in breeches and sitting astride. A cap covered her hair and she was at least fifty yards to the other side of the lake, but there was still no doubt. He prickled with that singular awareness he’d come to associate only with her.

She bent forward, leaning over the horse’s neck as she said something to the mount. Encouragement, most likely, if the burst of speed was any indication. Only a few of his stock could fly like that…

By God, she rode Amira. She must have convinced Griggs she was a capable rider, or the stable master would never have saddled Geoffrey’s favorite mare for her. Still, he’d have to have a word with the man. Amira was too valuable for guests to take out.

His concern eased as horse and rider raced closer. Amira was in capable hands, and Liliana’s obvious skill told him she rode astride often.

Yet another trait that supported Geoffrey’s growing opinion that Liliana Claremont was no ordinary miss.

He accepted that he’d been wrong about her. She’d proven she had no interest in winning him. Rather
demonstrably. She’d insulted him, ridiculed him, challenged him and bested him. After his anger had abated, he’d realized she also intrigued him.

Liliana slowed the mare to a canter, then a trot. She’d been coming from the east…Something squeezed within him. Aveline’s holdings lay just over the park. Geoffrey’s fists clenched. While he’d been overly aware of Liliana these past three days, she’d had eyes only for Aveline, rot him. Did she return now from a night in his arms?

No. Geoffrey gave his head a shake. Amira had been in the stable when he’d saddled Grin, and he’d been riding only an hour. And while one could certainly do the deed in less time, Geoffrey had never known Aveline to seduce innocent young maidens.

The urge to throttle the other man eased, and Geoffrey relaxed his shoulders. He’d forgotten how easily jealousy could make one think like a fool.

Jealousy? Of course not. He straightened in his saddle, unease creeping in. Jealousy was a precursor to love, and he adamantly refused to succumb to
that
debilitating emotion. Just because he’d been intrigued by the chit didn’t mean his feelings had been moved. Admittedly she provoked a powerful attraction, but that had nothing to do with finer emotions. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall victim to his father’s fate. Look what love had gotten him.

Still, his curiosity roused. Why was Liliana out riding unaccompanied and so very early, not to mention scandalously dressed? Well, he wouldn’t know unless he asked.

Geoffrey knew the exact moment Liliana became aware of his presence as he and Grin emerged from the greenery. Her face went blank and her eyelids fluttered down. She glanced toward the house, probably judging whether she could pretend she hadn’t seen him and flee to the stables.

Instead she waited in the meadow.

Amira tipped her head and nickered a welcome that
Grin returned. Liliana greeted Geoffrey with a tight smile and a nod. She looked prepared to bolt.

“A lady who rises before noon,” Geoffrey marveled. “I thought surely this would be the last place I would encounter one of my female guests.”

Liliana’s brow creased, then smoothed as she tilted her head. “An eligible lord who is wealthy, handsome and not well into his dotage?” She shrugged. “I’m surprised you’re not being stalked from hill to dale, regardless of the hour,” she said, her tone full of irony.

And she smiled.

And that smile lit him, drawing one in return. “Is that what you are doing, Miss Claremont? Stalking me?” he teased. “First the library and now on my morning ride…I do believe that’s a pattern.”