Sweet Enemy

by Heather Snow

  He also wondered at her words. Did fear of losing the ones she loved make up the bricks of the wall that surrounded her heart? She’d lost both parents at a young age. That would have to affect a person.

  When she’d righted herself, she sat back down, albeit at a respectable distance from him. “Did your parents love each other?”

  Geoffrey frowned, wondering at her question. What was going on in that brilliant mind of hers? By the way she looked at him, he was almost afraid to answer, thinking she might draw a conclusion that wouldn’t be in his favor. Still, it was his nature to be honest.

  “Hated would be a more appropriate word.” Geoffrey sighed. Since he was going to marry Liliana, she’d find out the whole sordid tale eventually, so it might as well be now. “But he was an earl, and she the daughter of a rich, well-respected family, and they were married. They had nothing in common except, in the end, a complete disrespect for the other.”

  Geoffrey closed his eyes, memories assaulting him of his parents’ screaming fights, of slamming doors and hateful words. “I think it made my father sad, though,” he said, remembering the far-off looks his father would sometimes get. “He loved her, in the beginning. Even after he found out what she was truly like—a lying, deceitful, manipulative, cruel woman—he loved her anyway. And that is the real tragedy.”

  Liliana’s hand covered his. He opened his eyes and saw not pity in her expression, but compassion, and the tightness around his chest cracked, letting warmth slip in. He brought her hand to his lips, then settled it into his lap, not letting her go.

  “But whatever their feelings in the beginning, they disintegrated into nastiness. I was told many a time it was fortunate I took after my father in looks, else he’d have doubted I was his.”

  Liliana made a shocked sound. “You mean she took other men to her bed whilst married to your father?”

  “I’d imagine she never went to my father’s bed again after I was born,” Geoffrey said, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “She’d given him his heir and his spare and then she was done with him. Hated him so much, when he died she removed all vestiges of him, redecorated nearly every room and had all of his things boxed up and moved into one of bedrooms in the family wing, where they still sit, covered in dust.”

  Liliana stiffened beside him, her grip growing tight. Geoffrey sighed. He wasn’t painting a very pretty picture of marriage to a Wentworth, was he? “But not all marriages are like that, Liliana,” he said, reaching to take her other hand. “Some are based on respect. Some can be a true partnership, where husband and wife have similar goals and passions and can lift each other to achieve more than they could have alone. Some have…” love. As much as he realized he was coming to covet her love, he couldn’t promise her the same, was unsure whether it would even matter to her, so he left the word unsaid. “…that something special you’re feeling right now.”

  The chime of the clock rang out two baleful gongs in the silence.

  Liliana pulled her hands away from Geoffrey and stood. “It’s late, and dawn comes early.” She had to leave this very moment, before the maelstrom of guilt and self-abhorrence rising in her chest overwhelmed her and she made a fool of herself. Oh, what had she done? And what was she going to do?

  A crease formed between Geoffrey’s brows. Her abrupt change in attitude must have confused him. Liliana tried to school her features.

  “You should sleep in tomorrow,” he suggested, watching her closely, “as I can’t ride with you. I’m meeting some of the more recently arrived gentlemen for an early hunt. Some political maneuvering to be done on horseback, it seems.”

  She nodded once, hard, and turned for the double doors, looking for escape.

  “Don’t go that way.” He walked over to the bookshelf and flipped the hidden latch that she’d searched to find with no luck. “Let me escort you back through the passageway, where no one will see you.”

  Liliana moved to the darkened doorway, peering inside. She’d been trying to get into this very door for days, yet now the idea of exploring it sickened her because of how she’d gained access to it.

  “Where does it lead?” she asked, her voice dry yet calm to her ears.

  “Ultimately to the family bedrooms, but it’s truly a labyrinth, passing nearly every room in the house at some point,” he said. He lit a candle and ushered her inside.

  As they passed a closed doorway, he said, “There is my study, for example, which is the only room that doesn’t have its own exterior entrance, though it does open to the library via a hidden door.”

  Just as she’d expected. A little farther down, he pointed out more. “And here is the drawing room, the parlor next to it, and the dining room farther still. I have no idea what my ancestors must have been thinking when they had it built. Either they were a devious sort, or they were fond of secret trysts. I’m particularly fond of the trysting theory,” he murmured as his arms snaked around her middle. Liliana stiffened, closing her eyes against the burning sting of tears as his lips brushed the back of her neck, shame scoring her. She was the devious sort in this pairing, and though Geoffrey hadn’t said it in so many words, deceit was the one thing he abhorred. She’d seen it in his face when he’d spoken of his mother, and every word had been a dagger.

  Geoffrey pulled away from her slowly, as if sensing that something was not right, but she couldn’t see his expression in the dim light. She heard him take a deep breath, as if to say something, but then he steered her to the right and they ascended a narrow staircase to the second floor. “Here are the private family parlors down that wing and, farther past them, the family bedrooms,” he said, indicating the left passage. “To the right is the guest room hallway. The tunnel doesn’t lead directly into those rooms at any point…so perhaps my theory of secret trysts is wishful thinking.”

  He popped a door, which from the outside appeared as a hallway bookshelf. When they exited the passage, he shut the shelf behind them, then pulled down the fourth book from the right, exposing a keyhole.

  Geoffrey touched her shoulder, turning her toward him, his cobalt eyes creased with concern. “Liliana, is everything all right? I…I didn’t push you into something you were uncomfortable with, did I?”

  His kindness brought the ache of tears higher in her throat. “No,” she said. “You’ve done nothing wrong.” I have. And I’m sorry.

  He touched her face, running his thumb down her cheek. “You’re certain?”

  “Of course.”

  He nodded, reaching into his pocket. He removed his hand and held it out to her. “Take this,” he said. A dull brass key rested in his palm. “As the winner of our wager, I shall set our next tryst as tomorrow night, same place, same time. I want you to use the passageway so as to preserve your reputation.”

  She reached her hand out, noticing it tremble. He handed her the means to complete her search, yet he offered it in trust. In friendship. Perhaps in something more.

  But she closed her fist around the key anyway. She was the worst sort of person because she knew she would take advantage of his trust to find the truth. Because the truth was all-important. She’d been a fool to allow herself to pretend otherwise, even for a few blissful days.

  “Liliana?” Geoffrey asked, bewilderment in his voice.

  “Good night, my lord,” she said, and turned away, hurrying to her door. She slipped inside without looking back, knowing that once she found her answers tomorrow, she would have to tell Geoffrey all. And she knew in her heart he would hate her because she’d deceived him all this time.

  Chapter Twenty

  L

  iliana pulled the bedroom door shut behind her and leaned into it. The straight, hard line of the wood against her shoulders seemed the only thing holding her up. She brought her head forward then let it fall back again, but the momentary sting did nothing to distract from the ache in her chest. “It’s about time you came to bed. I was worried.” Penelope’s voice reached her, coming from the sitting area. She’d apparen
tly been waiting up.

  Liliana brought a hand to her face, furiously swiping at the tears she’d been unable to hold in. Thank goodness for the dim light that kept her in shadow. She didn’t think she could handle explaining any of this to Penelope tonight. Maybe ever.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve kept you awake,” Liliana said, making for the dressing screen. She could regain her composure while changing into her night rail.

  She heard a rustling and hoped it meant Penelope had taken herself to bed. Instead, when Liliana emerged from behind the screen, the candelabras on either side of the bed and on the table splashed the room with light and Penelope was waiting for her, a stubborn set to her chin and her finger pointing.

  “Now, don’t think you are going to dodge me again, Lil—” Penelope’s hand dropped. “What’s wrong?”

  To Liliana’s mortification, the tears started up again and all of the roiling emotions she’d tried to hold in burst forth. “I’m a whore.”

  “What?” Penelope dropped onto the bed, likely as stunned as Liliana was at the words that had passed her lips. Yet she couldn’t take them back. They were true. Even if she hadn’t begun the physical side of her and Geoffrey’s relationship with that specific intention, even if it hadn’t crossed her mind these past days when she’d been so caught up in him, she couldn’t deny that when the opportunity presented itself tonight to ask about his parents’ relationship, she’d taken it. And had learned where Edmund Wentworth’s private possessions were.

  “I’ve used my…charms”—she spat the word—“to get the information I needed. That makes me a whore.”

  Penelope’s face paled. “You’ve slept with Stratford?”

  Liliana released a long breath. “Not exactly.” She vowed to say nothing more specific. “But that’s splitting hairs.”

  “Rather important hairs, I’d say.” Penelope studied her for a moment. “But you say you found what you were after. Now you can solve the mystery of Uncle Charles’ death and bring the truth to light. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “I thought it was, but…” Liliana paced the floor at the foot of the bed. Insecurity, confusion and regret swirled around in her like an elixir swishing along the glass sides of a beaker. The combination upset her, at once disconcerting and unfamiliar. She wasn’t accustomed to any of these feelings. Since her father’s death, she’d forcibly tamped down any emotions that didn’t move her toward her goals. Years spent overcoming her aunt’s attempts to change her bled into the years trying to prove herself worthy of recognition in the world of science. Had she ever allowed insecurity or indecision a foothold, she was positive she would have been lost.

  Like she was now.

  “I don’t want to hurt him,” she whispered.

  “Then walk away,” Pen suggested.

  “I can’t.” She shook her head. “You know I can’t. Besides, someone killed Geoffrey’s father, too. Maybe the same person killed mine, and if that’s true, he has a right to know just as much as I do.”

  “You’ve taken to calling Stratford Geoffrey? You have grown close.”

  Heat touched Liliana’s cheeks. Penelope could never know how close. “We’ve become friends. He’s not at all what I’d expected.” Far from it. She hadn’t expected his playful side, nor the grins that transformed his face into a carefree rogue’s as they raced across the park. She hadn’t expected that he would be truly interested in her work, yet he’d plied her with questions. And she certainly hadn’t expected that when he would stop midsentence and stare at her mouth, she’d want to lean forward and fit her lips to his.

  “You love him,” Penelope said, wonder in her voice.

  “What?” Liliana choked, coughing as she tried to catch her breath. “Are you mad?”

  Pen sat up straight and squared herself to Liliana, raising her palm and extending her fingers as if to tick off the points. “I am perfectly sane. You, however, have been acting oddly for days now.” She touched her index fingers together. “First, you’re crying. I’ve never seen you cry, not even when Mama gave you her worst. Second”—her pointer moved to her middle finger—“there is that dreamy look upon your face. You just had it a moment ago. What were you thinking?”

  Liliana wasn’t about to say she’d been thinking of Geoffrey’s kisses. She pressed her lips together, narrowing her eyes.

  “Fine,” Pen said. “Don’t tell me. But you’ve arrived home for the last three days from your morning rides with that same look. And,” she said, hooking her ring finger, “you’ve been happier, more peaceful than I think I’ve ever seen you, even in company. You should have seen Mother’s jaw drop when Stratford cajoled you into that game of charades. She’s commented on the change in you, too.”

  Liliana frowned, realizing that she had felt differently of late, comfortable in her own skin…or at least not hyperaware of how irregular she was. Could that be because of how Geoffrey looked at her? How he listened to her, sought her opinions?

  Penelope waggled her pinkie. “And fourth, you’ve stopped talking about Stratford, nor have you shared any progress on your mission with me.” Pen paused, and an expression—part hurt, part envy—passed over her face. “Perhaps because you’ve had him to share with.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Liliana said, but was it? Her and Geoffrey’s time alone, of course, had been spent mainly in each other’s arms, yet many hours had been spent talking while they participated in various activities. Talking about what he hoped to achieve in his political career, discussions regarding future projects aimed at employing soldiers. Liliana had expanded the subject to the poor in general—employing them, certainly—but she’d brought up health and sanitation issues that would improve the quality of lives for all. Geoffrey had considered her ideas thoughtfully, tossing around possible scenarios he might present to Parliament in coming years, given the proper research. He’d even joked that they should partner up together and change the world.

  “Would it be so bad, Lily?” Pen asked gently. “You’ve said you know in your heart he had nothing to do with whatever happened to Uncle Charles. Would it be so bad to love Stratford?”

  “It would be awful,” she whispered. Because when he came to despise her, as he surely would when she explained why she’d really come to Somerton Park, it would break her heart if she actually loved him.

  “I think it would be wonderful,” Pen countered. “I think it’s fantastic that someone has finally breached that outer wall you keep around yourself. I’m just relieved Stratford has made you feel something. I feared perhaps…” She trailed off pensively.

  “Perhaps what?”

  Penelope regarded Liliana for a long moment before sighing. “I thought perhaps losing Uncle Charles had damaged you somehow. I know his death was shattering, but you’ve idealized him your entire life. I was afraid you might never let another man into your heart.”

  Liliana was taken aback. “When did you get so insightful? Perhaps you’ve missed your calling,” she joked, trying to ease the tension. But Penelope just pressed her lips together in annoyance.

  Liliana considered Pen’s words. True, losing her father had been devastating, but that had nothing to do with her choice not to pursue a husband. A husband would have forced her to give up her dreams. Men wanted their women filling the nursery, not experimenting in the laboratory.

  Yet, had she ever let a man into her life since Father’s death? Liliana frowned in thought. No, she hadn’t. She was close to no man—not even her uncle, Lord Belsham, who had made considerable efforts at a relationship over the years.

  Why was that? Because it hurt too much to love? Perhaps, particularly if you lost that person. Look what it had done to her father to lose her mother. What losing her father had done to her. She never again wanted to open herself to such pain.

  But she couldn’t think about that now, and besides, Pen was looking at her expectantly. “I…care for Geoffrey. I think he’s a good man, but that is all I will ever feel for him.”

  Penelo
pe sat back, biting her lower lip as if she wished to say more. “If you say so,” she finally relented.

  “I do.”

  “So what are you going to do when you find what you are looking for?”

  That blasted aching knot took up its place in her throat again. “What else can I do? I’m going to tell Geoffrey the truth.”

  Liliana let the drape fall closed, shutting out the steel blue light of daybreak. She’d just witnessed Geoffrey and several male guests depart for the morning’s hunt. It was time to complete her search.

  She’d been unable to sleep, mulling over what she thought she knew, what she hoped to find. What she hoped not to find. Her conversation with Penelope featured heavily in her thoughts, too, as did every moment of the past few days spent with Geoffrey.