Sweet Enemy

by Heather Snow

  “Yes, well, neither had I. I’d been so wrapped up in my own responsibilities. I did what I could for his situation, but it naturally led me to look into the plight of other soldiers. There are hundreds of thousands of them on the street who can’t find employment, housing or food. And what poor relief does exist is a top-up system, based on the price of a loaf of bread and the number of children in a household. These men were off fighting, not having families, so they are the last on the list for aid that runs out long before it gets to them. Therefore, they are being forced to steal just to survive,” Geoffrey said fiercely. “It’s appalling after what they’ve given, and something must be done about it.”

  Joss crossed his arms over this chest and regarded Geoffrey with a worried expression. “You’re not likely to change the views of the moneyed peers. Didn’t how soundly your bill got trounced show you that?”

  Geoffrey pushed himself off of the window ledge. “You’re right, of course. I won’t change their minds, not the way I went about it last time. I must retreat and leave the overt rumblings to come from the House of Commons. Then, as my social and political influence grows, I’ll use it to slowly turn the tide, with Liverpool’s and Wellington’s help.”

  Joss raised his brows. “Well, my boy, if you plan to accomplish all that before you take a bride, I suppose I’d better start looking these girls over myself. As heir presumptive, it would seem up to me to carry on the family name.”

  Geoffrey laughed. “Look if you will, Uncle, but I doubt it will come to that. Next month, Liverpool will be presenting the Poor Employment Act, which will make significant loans to companies who agree to do public works projects by employing day laborers. That will go a long way to getting soldiers off the streets.”

  Joss let out a low whistle.

  “Yes, and his liberal Tories will be pushing for more of that kind of change in the future, quietly, of course. Liverpool has asked me to lead that charge, behind the scenes. To do that, I must be a respected member of society and maintain an impeccable reputation.”

  The blackmailer’s threat that loomed over him caused Geoffrey to frown, but he pushed worry away. There couldn’t be any substance to it. Once this infernal party was over, he would go back to London and put it to rest. “And I will need to take a wife, as expected of a man in my position, which I intend to do.”

  Joss opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, Mother sailed back through the door, a victorious smirk riding her face.

  “It seems we shan’t have to toss Miss Claremont out after all. Lady Belsham is as mortified by her niece’s behavior as I. She and her charges shall be departing within the hour.”

  Chapter Nine

  L

  iliana floated down the guest hallway on a happy balloon of self-satisfaction. By the time she’d left the field, several persons had come up to praise her for her ingenuity. Even some of the ladies had expressed their congratulations, though Liliana suspected they did so only out of relief that she obviously no longer posed competition for Stratford’s affections. She turned the knob and slid into the room. “Pen, where did you run off t—”

  Liliana nearly stumbled in her shock, saved only by her grasp on the cool bronze door handle.

  The room buzzed with activity as maids in their black dresses and streamered caps flitted around, shaking out garments. Only had their ruffled aprons been yellow would they look more like worker bees in the hive.

  Leather trunks splayed open on every available surface, covering the celadon counterpanes, the rich mahogany tables, even the expansive window seat that looked out over an Italianate garden fountain.

  Penelope, however, was nowhere to be seen. Aunt Eliza’s harried voice filtered through the adjoining sitting room that separated Penelope and Liliana’s chamber from her own. Liliana’s breath strangled in her throat as she picked her way through both rooms to Aunt’s door.

  “…never been so humiliated in my life. Did she think Stratford would overlook such an insult?” Aunt shrieked.

  Dear God. They were being evicted from Somerton Park.

  Panic fisted in her chest, mingled with outrage. He’d been the one who’d insulted her. Well, all right, she’d nettled him first, but only to dissuade his attentions. What kind of gentleman loses a wager and then tosses the victor out on the street in a fit of temper?

  Liliana released a pent-up breath and tried to apply some logic to the situation. Stratford undoubtedly employed strategy here. If he had been involved in her father’s death, or knew someone in his family had been, he might suspect she’d come to discover the truth. And if, as rumor had it, he had political aspirations, he’d want to banish her from his home as soon as possible, before she could find any proof.

  Fool that she was, she’d given him the perfect excuse. And for what? Her pride? Moisture stung her eyes. Deep inside she knew that if she left Somerton Park today, she’d never uncover the truth.

  Liliana blinked, keeping her frustrated tears at bay. Could she fix this somehow? If she were mistaken about his intentions, if he were removing her just to assuage his pride, would an apology buy her a reprieve? It would gall her to do so, to apologize for being herself, but she would do it.

  However, first she’d need to determine how severe the situation was. She pushed open the heavy wooden door to Aunt’s room.

  Penelope sat, leaned forward on an armchair, an anxious, pursed expression on her normally cheery face. Pen’s usual pink cheeks were more the color of the cream stripes splitting the cornflower fabric of the chair. Aunt Eliza paced at the foot of the ornately carved bed, the massive piece dwarfing the woman in size, if not ostentation. Her plump face snapped up at the intrusion.

  Aunt’s matronly features, already mottled, colored a deeper shade of red. Liliana could see the gathering storm in Aunt Eliza’s eyes. The room fairly crackled with it.

  “You,” Aunt muttered, and the wealth of distaste, disapproval and worse—disappointment—packed into that one little word pierced Liliana with a sharpness that stole her breath. God help her, she’d thought herself beyond being hurt at Aunt’s inability to understand and accept her.

  Not that Aunt hadn’t tried, in her way, to care for and nurture her brother’s orphan. But every time Liliana’s actions had been contrary to what Aunt Eliza expected, Aunt took it as a personal failure. Even the subsequent tongue lashings had never completely removed Liliana’s own sense of guilt for letting down the only “mother” she’d known.

  “This! This is the thanks I get for securing you the most sought-after invitation in a decade?” Aunt cried, flailing her arms in Liliana’s direction. “I wash my hands of you. You and your theories…” Her lips flattened, as did her voice. “You’re an embarrassment. I don’t know why I ever thought you’d change.”

  Liliana’s throat constricted as she swallowed the defensive words that shot up. A tendril of unease snaked up her spine. Aunt had been angry in the past, but she’d never threatened to be done with Liliana completely, and in such calm tones.

  “I convinced myself that three years on your own had brought you to your senses,” Aunt said. “That after living in that drafty, bare cottage on the meager funds your father left, you’d be eager for a husband and act accordingly.” Aunt turned her face away. “I had such high hopes for this party.” She huffed. “I’d never dreamed you might interest Stratford, but I’d thought you might catch the eye of a nice country squire. But now…”

  “I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that.”

  “Ha!” Aunt stepped nearer to Penelope, waving a hand. “Have you considered how your distressing behavior taints your cousin?”

  Liliana’s heart twisted, and she glanced at Pen, who subtly shook her head as if to say “Don’t worry about me.” Liliana truly regretted any embarrassment to Penelope. She, too, was being asked to leave. That wouldn’t do. “I will apologize to Lord Stratford,” Liliana offered. “Try to convince him to let us stay. I do not wish for you or Pen to be punished for my actions.”
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  Aunt turned back to face Liliana squarely. “Stratford did not demand our departure—which is a credit to him. Credit me, however, with knowing when we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

  “Then you’ve initiated our departure?” Hope leapt in her chest. Perhaps Aunt might be made to see reason and they wouldn’t have to leave after all. “Please. Don’t draw more attention than the situation deserves. Any gossip should blow over quickly and not touch Penelope at all. Besides, I actually received several kind compliments…”

  Aunt narrowed her eyes, but Liliana rushed on.

  “And Lord Aveline praised me effusively. I don’t think he was just being kind. I think he quite liked me.” Rather desperate—to throw another potential suitor in the mix—but she’d use anything at her disposal. “I promise, I shall be on my best behavior if you change your mind. Please.” Liliana crossed her mental fingers. She couldn’t remain here alone without Aunt’s support and chaperonage. “Please let us stay.”

  Aunt Eliza’s face contorted. “No. You have no ‘best behavior.’ Never have. I can’t risk you making us more of a laughingstock. And I must seriously consider the wisdom of allowing Penelope in your company in future. You’re a bad influence.”

  Liliana felt her blood drain to her toes.

  “Penelope?” Aunt directed her daughter with a flick of the wrist. “I suggest you oversee the packing of your things.” Aunt turned her back on Liliana.

  That was it, then. Liliana gritted her teeth and closed her stinging eyes. The desire to rail at the injustice fairly burst out of her. Were she a man, the wager would have been seen as friendly sport. She would be congratulated for her cunning, not threatened with losing her family. And most of all, she wouldn’t be forced to leave because of her aunt’s ridiculous sensibilities.

  Liliana knew very well that if she did ever marry, it would be worse, even, than this. A husband would virtually own her. Her mother had been fortunate to find a kindred spirit in her father, a man who had seen her value and her talents and had encouraged them, society be damned.

  Yet times had changed even in a generation. Young ladies were expected, more than ever, to act like sheltered possessions rather than people, a beautiful trinket to adorn a man’s side—unable to think and reason like a man, and lost without one. Three seasons amongst the beaus of the ton had shown her that. Well, they and the one suitor Aunt Eliza had pressed upon her. Sir Abernathy Colton-Smith. Liliana shuddered at the memory of the odious man and his boorish attitudes. He’d even forbid her to continue with her work as a contingency of his suit, a condition Aunt Eliza had encouraged. Thankfully, she’d had the meager living Papa had settled on her, so she’d been able to refuse. Liliana longed for the day she was firmly on the shelf. At least then she’d have some semblance of freedom.

  A knock sounded in the distance, perhaps from the door that separated the sitting room from the guest hallway. A few moments later, a maid popped a hesitant head into Aunt’s chamber.

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, my lady.” The maid bobbed. “Er, ’is lordship requests to speak with you and the young misses.”

  “What?” Aunt snapped, her graying blond head tipping to the side. “Now?”

  The maid’s lips pressed together, as if she were out of her element and trying valiantly to brazen through. “Yes, my lady. He wonders if you might join him in your sitting room.”

  Aunt turned her head to glare at Liliana, as if to say “See what you’ve done?”

  “Of course,” Aunt murmured, pointing at Liliana and Penelope to precede her.

  Stratford paced near the hearth, his hands clasped behind his back, an uncomfortable grimace on his face that somehow didn’t detract from his stark handsomeness. He turned at their entrance, his bearing erect and tense, as if preparing himself for an unpleasant task. Liliana closed her eyes. He’d come to demand their departure after all, it seemed. There would be no saving the situation.

  Stratford cleared his throat. “Forgive the irregular nature of my call, Lady Belsham,” he said, “but it has come to my understanding you plan to leave us.”

  Liliana opened her eyes. Those weren’t words of expulsion.

  Aunt gave a brisk nod. “Yes, my lord. Please forgive my niece’s awful behavior this afternoon,” she said, emphasizing their relationship as if trying to distance herself and her own daughter as much as possible. “I regret the scene she caused. You shall be rid of us, posthaste, and most discreetly.”

  Liliana trembled as mortification flooded her. She felt Stratford’s eyes on her and she looked up, struck again by his intense blue gaze.

  “No,” he said.

  No?

  Aunt blinked, seemingly as taken aback at his short utterance as Liliana was.

  “I do not wish you to leave,” he said, amazingly. “And it is I who owes Miss Claremont an apology, as well as my congratulations.” He crossed the room in an elegant stride to stand before Liliana. Her heart catapulted into her throat as he stared down at her, his smell of musk and mint subtly surrounding her. “I thoughtlessly provoked you this afternoon, and for that, I am sorry. Please don’t feel as if you must leave on my account. In fact, I would prefer you to stay. Besides”—his lips turned up in a wry smile—“I don’t think I could live without knowing exactly how you gave Aveline the up on me.”

  Liliana stared so long at him that her eyes turned drier than sodium sulfate. Why was he being kind? And why, if he suspected her intentions, would he ask her to remain in his home? “I—” She couldn’t think of anything to say.

  He took advantage of her flummox and smiled, which, oddly enough, flummoxed her all the more. “It’s settled, then? I’m so glad.” He turned to Aunt Eliza, who stared at him as if he’d sprouted another nose. “I do hope the three of you”—he glanced back and nodded at Liliana—“and Lord Aveline, of course, will join me at the head of the table. It’s only fitting your niece be given the place of honor for her brilliant performance this afternoon.”

  “Of course,” Aunt said automatically. Aunt would never willingly offend Stratford.

  “Good,” he said, turning back to Liliana. Something in his eyes made her go all hot inside. “Until this evening.” He nodded and left the room.

  Aunt turned to Liliana, pinning her with a speculative gaze. “It seems we shall be staying.”

  Penelope skirted out of the room with a bright smile, and Liliana could hear her directing maids to unpack and rehang their clothing.

  Liliana nearly slumped with relief. Stratford had saved her, provided her another chance to find her answers. Her relief quickly turned to an uncomfortable bewilderment. Why had he done it?

  And what did it say about her if she used his kindness against him?

  Geoffrey sat at the head of the imposing sixteenth-century dining table, where generations of Wentworths had held lavish suppers much like this one. Several leaves had been removed, as only forty or so guests joined him this evening, but the table could accommodate as many as eighty diners with room to spare.

  Glassware tinkled and ornate silver cutlery dinged against china in melodic counterpoint to the lively conversation.

  Geoffrey set down his heavy spoon, the lobster bisque barely touched. He knew several—at least seven—more courses were to follow. During his years in the army, there had been many days when he and his men had been grateful to have one sparse meal. Perhaps broth. Maybe bread or cheese. His stomach turned at the knowledge that many of his fellow soldiers were likely not eating any better than that even today. How he wished his table was filled with them right now, rather than this privileged class that he was both part of and apart from.

  His eyes strayed to Liliana, seated next to him on his right. In appearance, at least, she’d fit in at his imaginary table. How lovely she was, even with her hair swept up in a plain chignon and her long neck unadorned by flashy jewels. In her simple satin dancing dress trimmed with shiny gold piping around the sheer sleeves, hemline and bust, she stood out in stark contrast to the wasteful o
pulence that surrounded her. He remembered how ill at ease she’d seemed this afternoon surrounded by some of the more frivolous members of society. Nothing in her mannerisms gave her away tonight, but he got the distinct feeling that she, like him, would be more comfortable with soldiers and commoners than with this lot.

  She laughed at something Aveline said, and the husky timbre of her voice vibrated through Geoffrey, his body hardening in reaction. Just being in her presence affected him, had from the moment he’d broken her fall in the library. It was as if his very skin hummed with energy, every nerve on edge. The closest feeling he could compare it to was the invigorating moments just before battle, when he felt more alert and alive than at any other time in his life, ready to take on the world.

  How inconvenient that Liliana seemed the sole woman to do that to him. If only he could find a bride just like her, who made him feel the way she did but who was better connected and moved more easily in society.

  The countess, seated directly across from Liliana on Geoffrey’s left, snatched a wineglass from the table. His mother had nearly had an apoplexy when he’d announced the amended seating arrangements for tonight’s dinner. Thankfully, she’d stayed mutinously silent, except for the occasional snort as the tale of Liliana’s sugared gunpowder had been retold.