Sweet Enemy

by Heather Snow

  Not Geoffrey, she realized as her heart stopped forcing so much blood to her brain, but his uncle. Sir Isaac’s ghost, for a moment she could have sworn…

  “I barely recognized you, dressed as you are. Are you going somewhere?” Joss Wentworth inquired, his slightly graying black hair glinting in the sun. The polite smile he always wore was firmly in place, but in this blend of light and shadow, it made her uncomfortable. Maybe because it was so similar to Geoffrey’s.

  And yet so different. She’d never compared the two before, but having just mistaken the two men, she couldn’t help but see the differences. Geoffrey’s smiles always touched his eyes, the kindness in them coming from his heart. She looked hard at Wentworth. His smile seemed only face deep. False, almost like a mask…

  She shook off the thought, certain she merely reacted to being caught running away by one of Geoffrey’s relatives.

  “I—” What could she say? She supposed the truth would be known soon enough. “Yes. I have decided a marriage to Lord Stratford will not suit and am returning home to Chelmsford.”

  Geoffrey’s uncle’s brows furrowed much as his nephew’s did. “Does Geoffrey know this?”

  Heat crept up Liliana’s face, but she set her jaw. “Not as of yet, but he will soon enough.” When—if—he cared to seek her out and discover she’d gone.

  Wentworth frowned, his countenance again eerily similar to the expression his nephew made and yet different, more…irritated? “I’m not certain this is a good idea.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” Liliana said, “but it’s truly for the best.” She turned back to her horse and lifted her foot to the block.

  “I can’t stand by and let a lady ride off on a rented nag.”

  Liliana suppressed a sigh. Misplaced honor apparently ran in the family. But this was hardly the time for chivalry. She faced him and opened her mouth to refuse.

  “Please,” he interrupted. “I won’t say I understand why you’re leaving, though my nephew can be trying, I’m sure.” He smiled, taking her horse’s lead and tying it to the post.

  Liliana frowned at his presumption, but then he took her arm and placed it on his and started across the courtyard.

  “While I’m of the opinion that you should stay and try to work out whatever lies between you and my nephew, I admit it is not my business. However, I insist you at least let me give you a ride to your destination.”

  Liliana considered tugging her arm from his, but she didn’t wish to be rude. Wentworth was only doing what he thought best. “That is truly unnecessary. I am accustomed to traveling alone and will be perfectly fine.”

  He kept walking, ushering her through a stone archway to where a nondescript black carriage waited. Odd—nothing marked it as a Wentworth carriage.

  “It is the only way I can assure Geoffrey that his intended made it home safely,” Wentworth insisted.

  She’d had enough. She’d made up her mind, but the man refused to listen to reason. She tugged at her arm, but he caught it, clenching her forearm in a bruising grip.

  What in the world? “Sir, please. Unhand me.”

  They’d reached the carriage door, which Wentworth flicked open. “You’re coming with me.”

  A chill shot up Liliana’s spine at his tone, and the tiny hairs on her arms rose despite the warm morning sunshine. “I am not.”

  He yanked so fiercely, pain exploded in her shoulder, as if he’d pulled it from its socket. Liliana gasped in shock and agony.

  “Oh, I think you are. Quietly.”

  Her gaze flew to the driver, a great hulk of a man, but he ignored her plight, keeping his face deliberately turned away.

  Wentworth shoved her inside, following behind. He tossed her into the seat and settled in beside her, blocking her exit. He banged a hand on the ceiling of the carriage, which rocked into motion.

  Dear God, what was happening here? Was Geoffrey’s uncle really kidnapping her? Why? Certainly not to return his nephew’s errant bride to him.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Where is the corselet?” Wentworth demanded.

  “The what?” Shock melted her to her seat. How did Wentworth know of the treasure? Had he overheard while following her and Geoffrey about?

  “Don’t toy with me,” he growled. “The treasure. Where did your father hide it?”

  Where did your father hide it? A wave of nausea rolled over Liliana, sucking the breath from her as her mind tried to process his words. They smacked of intimate knowledge, more than could be gleaned by eavesdropping.

  She looked at Wentworth, with his fake smile that had turned to a snarl. Could he be the blackmailer?

  The old valet’s story popped into her mind, a tale of murder and poison. She nearly gasped, barely suppressing the urge in time. Could Wentworth be the killer?

  Thoughts, memories and scenarios swirled around in her brain. What if she’d been right that the note that lured her father to his death had been a forgery?

  Where did your father hide it? Anger boiled through Liliana. How would Wentworth know whether her father had hidden the treasure unless he had tried to get it from her father and failed. Maybe killed him in the attempt.

  And then killed his own brother to cover up his deed? Or for the exchange money.

  And now she was trapped in a carriage with him. Dear God, what did he intend to do with her? She glanced at the door, then at the man blocking her path. There would be no escape, at least not until they stopped. Her only choice was to play along, buy some time.

  “I don’t know anything about a treasure,” she said, hoping to sound confused rather than horrified, as she actually was.

  Wentworth reached a hand into his vest, withdrew a pistol and pointed it at her chest.

  Liliana stopped breathing. He was the killer, and if she didn’t do something, she might be his next victim.

  “You’re lying,” he said. He pushed the gun forward and metal prodded her rib cage. Her bluff wasn’t working.

  “Okay, I know about the corselet, but I don’t have it,” she blurted.

  Wentworth’s eyes narrowed, and in their blue depths, Liliana recognized desperation. Desperate men did rash things. Wentworth’s grip tightened on the pistol and Liliana’s insides went all watery. She had to say something, anything, or he very well might dispatch her and no one would ever know what had become of her.

  “But I know where it is.”

  Uncle Joss was nowhere to be found. In the chaos that surrounded the packing of carriages and guests hurrying to breakfast early before starting back to London, no one could remember seeing the man. Geoffrey had looked in the family wing, the common areas, even the servants’ quarters. All he learned was that Uncle Joss’ longtime valet was missing, too.

  Mother, who’d blessedly given him the silent treatment since he’d announced his intention to marry Liliana, had broken it long enough to tell him she hadn’t seen Joss since last night’s dinner.

  Geoffrey bounded up the stairs to the guest hallway. Before he left to search the grounds, he needed to warn Liliana to stay inside. If he was right about Joss suspecting she had knowledge of the treasure’s whereabouts, she could be in danger.

  He reached her rooms and knocked on the door. He had no desire to besmirch Liliana’s reputation by his unorthodox visit, but it was imperative that he fill her in. Besides, they’d be married in three weeks, and any breach of etiquette would be forgiven.

  Geoffrey checked his timepiece and banged harder on the door.

  The door opened a crack and Liliana’s cousin’s face appeared. Her eyes widened as she registered him.

  “I must speak with Liliana,” he demanded without preamble.

  Miss Belsham blinked rapidly, but her mouth firmed. Geoffrey realized she was stalling. Something was wrong. Air filled his lungs as adrenaline spiked through him. He rose to his full height.

  “Miss Belsham, I demand to know—”

  “She’s gone.” Liliana’s cousin said, pinning
him with surprisingly hostile blue eyes. She narrowed them, showing uncommon fortitude for a slip of a girl.

  “What do you mean gone?”

  The girl’s shoulders slumped and she opened the door wider, inviting him inside. She turned her back and walked over to the nightstand on the far side of the bed. The tiny wooden drawer opened with a creak and she retrieved something. When she returned, she thrust out her hand and opened her palm.

  Amethysts and gold winked up at him, the ring a mockery of the excitement he’d felt when he’d chosen it to match Liliana’s stunning eyes. When he’d chosen it for the woman he loved…

  “I mean gone. She’s left, run away, departed the premises.” Miss Belsham glared at him with accusation, as though she was certain it was entirely his fault.

  Geoffrey took the delicate betrothal ring from Miss Belsham, stunned. The jeweled band felt heavy in his palm…and cold, like a blade of steel poised to stab him through the heart. “Did she say anything to you?”

  Miss Belsham sighed. “No. When I awoke this morning, her side of the bed was empty.”

  Rejection sliced through him. She’d left him without a word, after she’d agreed to marry him. Certainly she hadn’t seemed happy about it, but she’d said yes, damn her.

  “But she was miserable last night,” Miss Belsham said, her voice angry. “I’ve known Liliana my entire life, and before she met you, I’d never seen her cry. Yet she was a virtual watering pot the whole night through.”

  Geoffrey winced, remembering a choice few of the awful things he’d said in the last couple of days, the cool way he’d treated her. Was that why Liliana had left? Had he driven her away with his harsh tongue and cold demeanor?

  But damn it, that was the only way he knew to protect himself. Still, that didn’t make him feel less of a cad.

  He looked down at her cousin, afraid of the answer but unable not to ask the question. “Did she say why?”

  “Not in particular. But I’m worried. She was unhappy, yes, but also very anxious. And cryptic.” The girl frowned, an expression that seemed entirely out of place on her normally open face. “She said that whatever happened, she hoped people would understand why she did it and not judge her harshly.” Miss Belsham shook her head. “I can only assume she meant walking out on the betrothal, but that makes no sense.”

  She hoped people would understand why she did it? Did what? Left the man she was to marry? Unless…had her agreement been just another ploy to placate him until she could recover her evidence and avenge her father?

  The blood left his face in a dizzying swoop. Son of a bitch. What if she’d returned to the folly and took the letters? It wouldn’t have taken her long to find them, smart girl that she was. And now she intended to do…what? Make his family pay for what they’d done to hers?

  Geoffrey let his forehead drop into his hands. He should have known. Liliana came here to solve her father’s murder and get justice. She’d risked much, and he’d thwarted her plans. He should have known she wouldn’t just let it go. Wouldn’t let herself just marry him and sweep it under the rug.

  Yet he understood. He wasn’t even certain his father had been killed, and he was ready to tear into his uncle, his last remaining male family member, to get at the truth.

  But damn it all. That didn’t make him feel any less a fool. Christ, if only he hadn’t opened his heart to her…but it was like a door that, once opened, he couldn’t slam shut. Geoffrey closed his eyes and let out a pained exhalation. After years of watching his own father suffer the sting of love unrequited, how had he come to this? And how had he underestimated how badly it would hurt?

  Still, there was too much at stake. Liliana had to understand that she was sacrificing more than just one life for her family’s honor. If his reputation was harmed, and his Poor Employment Act failed, the welfare of too many innocents was at risk. He had to find Liliana and stop her, which meant finding Uncle Joss would have to wait.

  Geoffrey gave Miss Belsham a curt nod and turned on his heel, heading for the stables.

  “You must think me a great fool, as only a dimwit would take you back to Somerton Park.” Wentworth eyed her skeptically, his gaze narrowed.

  Liliana tried to keep an indifferent expression on her face, but inside, her heart thumped a frantic beat and her mouth felt like she’d swallowed a drying agent.

  “You followed me this morning,” she said, certain she was right. “You know I don’t have any treasure with me.”

  Wentworth huffed. “I was certain you’d finally found the treasure and were making off with it, planning to keep it all for yourself.”

  “Well, you were wrong,” she said, quite proud that her voice didn’t warble when she spoke. “But you were also right. I did discover the key to finding the treasure, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to get it without drawing notice.” Her only hope was to keep him convinced that she alone could get the treasure for him. But first she had to get him to take her back to Somerton Park.

  “So, I left,” she said. “When I departed, I left with nothing. I also left behind an insulting note guaranteed to prick Stratford’s pride,” she lied. She had left the betrothal ring, but she’d been too upset to put any of her feelings into words, deciding instead to make a clean break. “And that’s the beauty of my plan. I told him I was returning home and demanded he not follow me. You know how he is…all full of duty and honor. He expects people to do what they say they will. He will be so angry at my defection, he won’t be able not to give chase. He’ll be halfway to Chelmsford, never suspecting that I circled back and recovered the treasure on my own. I plan to be long gone before he realizes he’s been duped.”

  One of Wentworth’s winged brows rose and his lips thinned into an ugly line. Liliana jutted out her chin just a bit, challenging him to refute her ludicrous explanation.

  But she could see his mind working, debating whether she could be believed. Please, please…

  Liliana knew she had only one chance. Geoffrey didn’t trust her. Once he discovered her gone, he’d probably suspect she’d double-crossed him and went to the folly to find their fathers’ letters. If luck were on her side, he’d arrive at the folly after she and Wentworth, and she’d be rescued. She’d say whatever it took to convince Wentworth the key to finding the treasure was there.

  “So I was right about you…you were using him to find the treasure,” Wentworth said.

  “Of course,” Liliana answered as loftily as she could manage. “You don’t think I actually planned to marry into the family I hold responsible for my father’s death, do you?” She scoffed, hoping to come off as greedy as him. Greed understood greed. Maybe, if she sounded convincing enough, he’d believe her. “The treasure should belong to me for all that your family took from me.” She looked down at the pistol still lodged against her ribs. “However, I can be persuaded to share, I suppose…”

  Wentworth laughed, a hollow sound, but better than the agitated desperation he’d exhibited earlier. He called out to the driver to turn the carriage toward Somerton Park, and Liliana nearly wept with relief.

  “I’m afraid my debts will devour most of the treasure’s worth, my dear, and I’ll need the rest to make my escape from England, so there won’t be any left for you. However”—he nudged her with the pistol—“since I will be long gone from these shores, I suppose it won’t matter if I let you live. If you find the treasure for me and hand it over without a fuss, that is.”

  Liliana didn’t believe that for a moment, but she pretended to contemplate her situation. She let out a forced sigh. “You leave me no choice.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  L

  iliana gripped the seat, holding on to avoid being pitched to the floor. She could see little but uneven mounds of wildflower-covered ground through the thin sliver of carriage window beneath the shade. “Stop the carriage here,” Wentworth called out, rapping on the ceiling. The conveyance lurched to a stop.

  Liliana released her hold and tried to quell he
r churning stomach from the wild ride.

  The door cracked open and she squinted against the harsh rays of sunlight that illuminated the carriage’s interior. She cast her gaze beyond the opening, trying to ascertain where on the property Wentworth had taken her. Panic buzzed in her chest. She didn’t recognize anything, not a landmark, not a copse of trees. He could have taken her anywhere.

  “Let’s go,” he ordered, waving the pistol at the door. She moved slowly, inching her way off the seat and toward the opening, scanning the landscape. She’d need to keep her wits about her, look for an opportunity to escape. If she could just discover where she was, perhaps she could run.

  Liliana kept her head down, faking submission or at least resignation. Hopefully, Wentworth would consider her less than a threat, giving her time to formulate a plan. She was glad she’d dressed in boys’ togs this morning…She wouldn’t be hampered by skirts if she chose to flee. She was younger than Wentworth by at least thirty years, so she might be able to outrun him.