by Heather Snow
She lowered her lashes. It wouldn’t do to be caught staring, though the desire to observe the Wentworths’ faces nearly overwhelmed her. Could you see guilt in someone’s eyes? And if so, how did you quantify it?
Liliana kept her head politely bowed through the tale of their broken carriage wheel. But her breath shortened and her nerves tingled. Gooseflesh prickled her arms as an urge to flee swept over her like a frigid breeze. She curled her toes to keep them firmly planted.
When she looked up again, Stratford’s attention was on Penelope’s introduction, giving Liliana an opportunity to settle herself. She couldn’t say what she’d expected upon finally meeting the earl, but certainly not this riot of indefinable awareness. She drew another deep breath. All she had to do was get through the moment and she’d feel normal again.
“And may I present my niece, Miss Claremont?” Aunt Eliza said, touching Liliana’s elbow.
Stratford’s gaze moved to her, and he stiffened. She’d never seen eyes so sharp, so blue. His eyes narrowed and focused intently upon her.
Liliana’s heart thumped—hard—then skipped a beat. Claremont was a common enough name. So why was he looking at her so? Unless her arrival alarmed him because he knew whose daughter she was and guessed why she’d come . . . Unease rolled like waves through her.
She affected a small curtsy, as much to compose herself as because his rank dictated. But as her eyes dipped, she noticed the signet ring on Stratford’s pinkie and her resolve solidified. The Stratford seal was emblazoned on the ring, only inches from her. She was this close to learning the truth. She straightened, snapping her gaze back to the earl.
The man’s expression smoothed to one she could not fathom. “Miss Claremont,” he acknowledged with a slight bow, his voice deeper, rougher than it had been when he’d conversed with Aunt or Penelope.
Lady Stratford’s mouth creased into a frown. And didn’t the uncle’s eyes widen, just slightly?
A hot flush spread over Liliana’s face and neck. Stratford and his family had reacted to her name. . . . She was sure of it.
The dinner gong sounded, the reverberating clang startling Liliana. She automatically looked toward the noise. When she turned back, all three Wentworths wore polite, benign smiles. And then they were gone, leading the assembly into the dining room.
Liliana stood still, immobilized by a surreal uncertainty quite unlike her. Had she imagined their responses because she’d expected to see something?
She stared after their retreating forms. Lady Stratford whispered something to her son. Liliana noticed his frown in profile, and her suspicion deepened.
No. If her hosts had nothing to hide, then she would find nothing. If they were guilty, however, she owed it to her father to bring the truth to light.
The question was, if she discovered something of an incriminating nature, to what lengths would the powerful Earl of Stratford go to silence her?
Table of Contents
Praise for Heather Snow
Also by Heather Snow
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Author’s Note
Special Excerpt from Sweet Enemy