Sweet Enemy

by Heather Snow

  Liliana chewed her lip. What could it hurt to spend more time in Stratford’s company? He might let something slip. It was more of a prospect than anything else at the moment.

  “I would like that,” she answered.

  The hint of a smile appeared on Stratford’s face.

  This could work, she rationalized. Still, she had the feeling she’d just combined two unknown substances and started a reaction she couldn’t control.

  Well, if she were going to give herself up to it…“I should also like it if you would call me Liliana,” she murmured.

  Stratford’s smile spread. “Liliana” rolled off his tongue, and he closed his mouth on her name as if savoring a treat. “And I am Geoffrey.”

  That feeling that wasn’t quite fear caused goose pimples to prickle her arm.

  Enemy, thy name is Geoffrey.

  Chapter Twelve

  L

  iliana slid her barely touched plate toward the center of the table. Not that the light fare of turbot served with lobster sauce and roasted root vegetables wasn’t appetizing—the appreciative sighs of the assembled luncheon crowd assured her it was. She simply couldn’t countenance food right now. And I am Geoffrey.

  It had been a mistake to give him leave of her name this morning. His natural response had been expected, yet those four little words had shifted something within her.

  Geoffrey.

  Not Stratford. Not even Wentworth. But Geoffrey, a man.

  The first man to have ever kissed her. She flushed warm with the memory.

  It had been easy not to think of that kiss when she’d held no consideration for him as a person. But now…

  Liliana splayed her hand across her chest, just below her neck.

  “Are you all right?” Aveline inquired, drawing her attention. She turned to the right, where her escort patted a linen napkin to his lips as he glanced at her discarded plate, then at her. Aveline’s green eyes darkened with concern. “You look a tad overheated.” He handed her a glass of iced champagne. “Take this.”

  Liliana accepted it and sipped. The liquid slid down her throat in a chilled burn as frosty bubbles tickled her nose.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking another sip and forcing a smile. But she was not all right. She was confused. And confusion was not a state she handled well.

  Why had Geoffrey— No! Stratford. She blew out an exasperated sigh. She might as well accept that her mind had made the switch.

  Why had Geoffrey invited her to ride with him tomorrow? What was it she’d seen in his eyes? Why hadn’t he tossed her off his estate? No one would have protested, not even Aunt Eliza. What could he want of her?

  The unanswered questions balled within her. Liliana detested the unknown. The desire to act vibrated through her. She had to do something—anything.

  She’d take Amira to the village this afternoon. Yes, it bent the spirit of what Geoffrey had intended, but he had given her permission to ride. She wouldn’t wait. If only this infernal meal would come to an end so Aveline would depart.

  “So what talent shall you be displaying this afternoon, my dear?”

  Liliana quirked her brow as Aveline’s question registered. “Pardon?”

  He chuckled, amusement dancing across his lean features. “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

  Liliana relaxed into a chagrined smile. “I’m sorry, my lord. Woolgathering. Forgive me.”

  “No, forgive me,” he said. “I shall endeavor to be a more entertaining companion.”

  “Oh no,” Liliana rushed to reassure him. “You’ve been perfect. I’ve just something on my mind.”

  Speculation glimmered in Aveline’s expression for just a moment before his easy smile supplanted it. “Your upcoming performance, perhaps?”

  Liliana shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “This afternoon’s affair?” Aveline prompted. At her shrug, he explained. “The countess has arranged for several of the young ladies to demonstrate their most accomplished of the feminine arts, with Stratford as judge.”

  “Oh my,” Liliana said. Poor Geoffrey. He’d been less than excited about the tournament. She wondered how he felt about this display.

  “Yes.” Aveline nodded. “I take it you weren’t invited to perform?”

  “I’m not exactly the favored guest around here.” Liliana gave a smiling wince. “Thank goodness.”

  Aveline laughed, a rich sound that drew a few looks. “No, though I can’t see any reason why not,” he murmured. “That is a shame, however. I’d rather looked forward to discovering how you would top your skills as a gunsmith.” Aveline tossed his napkin onto the table. “I expect it will be entertaining nonetheless, don’t you think?”

  She’d rather do a qualitative analysis of what made paint peel. Politeness dictated she answer otherwise. “Yes. I’m only sorry you shall miss it, what with your afternoon business affairs.”

  “Actually, I’d made plans to spend the afternoon with you today.” He stood, extending a friendly hand. “If you’ll have me?” Aveline smiled, and the look he gave her was one of…anticipation?

  Oh no. Liliana tried not to show her dismay. She couldn’t very well turn him down. He had, after all, been her savior and had done quite a bit to ease the tension between her and Aunt Eliza. Yet neither did she wish to encourage him. She’d enjoyed his escort simply because he’d been so undemanding of her time.

  “I’d be honored,” she said, pushing the words past the disappointed lump in her throat. Her foray to the village would have to wait. She took his proffered arm and accepted her fate. “Shall we?”

  She pasted a smile on her face as Aveline joined them to the line of guests making their way toward the music room.

  She prayed she was mistaken about Aveline’s interest and that his decision to spend the afternoon at Somerton Park would be a onetime occurrence.

  Somerton Park’s sizable music room rang with conversation as Liliana and Aveline took their seats very near the back.

  “In case some of the ladies’ feminine accomplishments are not quite so accomplished,” Aveline explained with a wink as he placed a finger in one ear.

  Liliana laughed, but her eyes sought out Geoffrey, who stood at the front nearest the bank of tall windows. The expanse of glass admitted generous sunlight into the room. Brightness prevented her from seeing Geoffrey’s expression, but his posture was stiff and formal, much different than his relaxed, easy manner of this morning. This was a man not pleased to be here. She could certainly sympathize.

  Standing next to him was his uncle, Josslyn Wentworth. The man was smiling, yet something in his expression seemed off…disingenuous. Not in the same way as the countess, but— Liliana scoffed. Who was she to judge? She knew she, of all people, would be inclined to see ugliness in any Wentworth. But then why did she not feel that way about Geoffrey anymore?

  Joss Wentworth caught her staring and frowned. Liliana flushed and turned her gaze back to the room.

  Streaking rays illuminated three magnificent instruments, which anchored the décor. A Taskin harpsichord of giltwood with a japanned case was the centerpiece, flanked by a stunning mahogany square piano in the neoclassical style. It boasted gilt bronze mounts and medallions of cut horn against a blue paper background.

  The most interesting piece was a lavishly carved pedal harp with painted scenes of pyramids, birds and clouds on the pine sound box. The crown featured a wooden figure in Egyptian headdress. The harp looked much older than one designed to complement the current rage for Egyptian décor. Perhaps someone in Geoffrey’s family had been a lover of Egypt before Napoleon had so popularized it.

  “Quite a way to choose a wife, eh?” Aveline commented, leaning close so as not to be overheard. “I must say, when it comes my time to be shackled, the music room is not precisely the one I would wish my viscountess be accomplished in.”

  Liliana snapped her head around to see Aveline’s half-cocked smile.

  “What
?” he asked, giving a shrug. “I would rather she excel at watercolors, sculptures, things of that sort. Do pull your mind up out of the cellar, Miss Claremont.” The roguish gleam sparkling in his green eyes spoiled his innocent expression.

  She lifted a pert eyebrow. “I had thought you quite tame, but perhaps I should reevaluate my opinion,” she said. “I do believe you might be rather wicked.”

  Aveline flashed a lopsided grin. “All part of my attempt to be a more engaging escort.” He winked. “And I had thought you imperturbable. It seems I was correct.”

  She shrugged. “Practical, analytical and unimaginably factual, too,” she said in her most dry voice, but she couldn’t repress a smile.

  “Hmm.” Aveline shifted in his seat as Lady Stratford welcomed everyone to the room and introduced the afternoon’s first performer. Lady Jane Northumb sat prettily at the harpsichord, her face serene and not a blond curl out of place. Lady Stratford beamed at the girl, as if bestowing her blessing upon the perfect daughter-in-law. Liliana frowned.

  The unmistakable notes of Mozart filled the room.

  Liliana sat up straight, looking to see how Geoffrey was enjoying the performance. Did he gaze upon Jane Northumb as the perfect epitome of womanhood? Not that she cared, of course. But she couldn’t spot him. Perhaps he sat behind the matron with the turquoise organza hat, somewhere on the other side of the peacock-plumaged adornment.

  As the allegro flared, Liliana gave thanks that she hadn’t been expected to participate. As much as Aunt had tried to force music upon her, Liliana hadn’t the patience for endless hours of practice. She’d preferred to spend her time poring through as many writings on organic chemistry as she could get her hands on, searching for ways to apply those principles to the healing arts she was learning. So while she loved listening, she played abysmally, unlike Jane’s proficient recital. Lady Stratford would be appalled.

  The tiny hairs on the back of Liliana’s nape rose, and she stiffened in her seat.

  “Perhaps this isn’t such a bad way to choose a wife,” Aveline commented, drawing her attention away from the odd sensation. “Take Lady Jane, for example.” He gestured idly with his right hand. “By choosing Mozart, she tells us much about herself. Mozart is beautiful and harmonic but also technically perfect. Every note fits neatly into its little box. That leads me to the conclusion that Lady Jane needs everything to be in order, that she’s a ‘no mess’ type of female. Wonderful for running a household and raising well-adjusted children. Stratford could do well selecting her.”

  An image of Geoffrey smiling at Jane over the breakfast table, of the two of them standing arm in arm as they watched their children playing at the hearth, pierced Liliana. She shook her head to clear the vision.

  Moderate applause signaled the end of the performance. Lady Stratford introduced Lady Ann Manchester, another blond beauty, who took her place at the square piano.

  Beethoven sang from the instrument as Lady Ann deftly fingered the keys.

  A subtle scent tickled Liliana’s nose. Spice and mint. Geoffrey. Warmth flooded her. Was he somewhere near? Liliana shifted in her seat to search for him, but Aveline touched her arm and she turned back toward him.

  “Lady Ann, however, has chosen Herr Ludwig,” he remarked, seemingly oblivious to her sudden tension. “Where Mozart is neat, Beethoven is elemental. Powerful, emotional, very messy…but also very exciting. Having Lady Ann for wife might not promise a smoothly run life, but it would be worth it in other areas.”

  Liliana shot Aveline a quelling look, but his gaze was fixed on the apparently very messy Lady Ann. An image of Geoffrey grabbing Lady Ann, pressing her against the bookshelves in the library and kissing her with unreserved passion flashed through Liliana’s mind. She swallowed, perturbed by the rush of sensual memory that crashed over her as she remembered Geoffrey’s taste upon her own lips. How his hands had roamed over her—

  Lady Ann finished to applause. Liliana turned her hands to touch her heated face. Geoffrey’s scent lingered in her nose, very real and not just a figment of her memory. She glanced to the other side of Aveline, but of course Geoffrey wasn’t there. He must be behind her somewhere. Could he have heard Aveline’s indelicate commentary? Mortification heated her face another degree. What Geoffrey must think if he did.

  Lady Emily Morton was next to perform. Given that Liliana knew the countess to be parading potential brides in front of her son, Geoffrey must prefer blondes. The thought disgruntled her. She wondered if Lady Emily—tall, graceful, nearly flaxen haired and so very different from herself—was what Geoffrey looked for in a woman.

  Lady Emily tipped the harp back and cradled it between her knees.

  “Now, that one is pure trouble,” Aveline pointed out. “See how she uses the harp as an excuse to show a bit of her slim ankle?” He tsked. “A flashy one, her. I’ll bet—”

  “Do stop,” Liliana hissed, closing her eyes against a vision of Lady Emily flashing Geoffrey her— “I am attempting to enjoy the music.” And she didn’t want Geoffrey to think any worse, as she was now quite certain he sat directly behind her. Her entire back tingled with awareness.

  Aveline raised his brows. “Not imperturbable, then,” he murmured and remained blessedly quiet for the remainder of the performance as well as through a rather shaky flutist and one frightful vocal performance. Liliana could hardly focus. Her body was alive with sensation. It was as if her very core responded to Geoffrey’s perceived nearness.

  She tapped her slippered foot briskly, warmth making her uncomfortably fidgety. And what was this twinge of dreadful envy? Why should the idea of Geoffrey with any of these women bother her? He was nothing to her, for goodness’ sake, save for the means to discovering the truth about her father’s death.

  After the sad aria, Lady Stratford called for an intermission.

  “Still flushed, I see,” Aveline noted. “Shall I fetch you another glass of champagne?”

  “Yes, please,” Liliana answered, the smile feeling brittle on her face. As he departed, she gripped her hands tightly together, hoping she’d been mistaken and that Geoffrey was nowhere near.

  “Which composer’s piece would you play, then, Liliana?” came Geoffrey’s rich voice. He was behind her, as she’d known he would be.

  Liliana startled anyway, gasping as she turned. His lips pressed into something not quite a grin, but he was clearly amused. Blast. He had heard all.

  “How long have you been sitting there?” she asked, afraid of—yet knowing—the answer.

  “Since the performances began.”

  Wonderful. Embarrassment bloomed, even though it was not she who’d made the provocative comments.

  “But…I thought you were the judge of this contest.”

  “I am,” he grumbled, his tone clearly put out. “I escaped the front row by telling Mother my presence distracted the performers.”

  Liliana nodded. She could certainly understand that.

  “But you didn’t answer my question,” Geoffrey pressed. “Which composer would you have chosen?”

  “I don’t play.” She gripped the back of Aveline’s chair, where her arm rested in her twisted position.

  “But if you did? Humor me.”

  “Truly, I have no idea,” she said. “Music never was my forte.”

  “Come now, Liliana,” Geoffrey cajoled. “Surely there is a composer you favor over all others.”

  She hated answering when she was unsure of the subject matter. But she could see he would pester her until she responded. “Handel, I should think.” She blurted out the first composer to come to mind.

  “I see,” Geoffrey said in a way that left Liliana wondering what exactly it was he thought he did see. “Interesting choice.” Geoffrey brought one long-fingered hand to his mouth and rested his first two digits just below his bottom lip. He cocked a raven brow. “Handel never married, did he?”

  “I have no idea,” she answered. What an odd observation. Geoffrey must have marriage on the mind—wel
l, how could he not, considering his guest list and how doggedly he was being pursued?

  “Perhaps Aveline’s interpretations have merit after all,” he said.

  Liliana tilted her head. “Pardon?”

  Geoffrey leaned forward, resting elbows on knees. “You chose Handel, a composer whose life mirrors your own.”

  “I don’t see—”

  “Handel’s family insisted he forget music and pursue law, a more practical gentleman’s pursuit. His mother alone encouraged his musical aspirations, yet he went on to arguably create one of the most memorable contributions to musical history with his Messiah. And,” he pointed out, “Handel paved the way for composers after him. In fact, Beethoven himself has said Handel was the greatest composer to ever live.”