Sweet Enemy

by Heather Snow

  Geoffrey kept his easy smile in place. Mother had certainly coached Lady Northumb on how to get his attention. If Lord Northumb was one of the most influential men in the House of Lords, Wakefield was his counterpart in the House of Commons. An alliance with Lady Jane would be very beneficial to Geoffrey, and everyone standing in this little circle knew it.

  “I do,” Geoffrey said, “and I am very much looking forward to discussing issues with them both.”

  The strains of a waltz filled the room, no doubt perfectly orchestrated, again by his mother. Three pairs of feminine eyes watched him with expectation.

  Geoffrey managed to hold in his sigh. “Lady Jane, might you join me in the waltz?”

  The diminutive blonde smiled and held out her hand. Geoffrey led her to the floor.

  As they took their places amongst the dancers, Geoffrey reasoned with himself. Lady Jane might very well be the perfect bride for him. It was no secret her father desired an alliance, one that might be very good for all involved. She was pretty enough. Geoffrey determined to swallow his resentment at the machinations of their mothers and assess Lady Jane on her own qualities. Of course, if he settled on her, he wouldn’t approach her until a few weeks after the house party ended. He wouldn’t give his mother the satisfaction.

  He rested one hand on Lady Jane’s waist and raised his other to clasp hers in preparation for the first steps. While her waist was tiny and flawlessly formed, he felt not even a shiver of desire. He frowned. Not exactly what one hoped for in a potential spouse, but perhaps desire would come as he got to know her.

  He led Lady Jane into the first twirl. She followed his lead well, but Geoffrey found himself disappointed. Still, there were more important considerations in a wife than a well-matched dance partner.

  “Tell me, Lady Jane,” he said, “what sort of activities do you enjoy?”

  “Well,” she said, a perplexed smile gracing lips that reminded him of blushing rosebuds. “I enjoy helping Mama host dinner parties for my father’s friends.”

  Geoffrey nodded. Good. Northumb held many a fete with political undertones. She would no doubt be well qualified in that realm. Her voice was pleasant, too. That might be a small thing, but if he were going to listen to someone for forty years, he’d rather it not be torture on the ears.

  “I play the harpsichord passably well,” she said.

  Ah yes. Geoffrey’s mind rushed back to the afternoon in the music room. She’d been Mozart. What had Aveline called her? Beautiful and harmonic, a “no mess” kind of female. As Geoffrey led Lady Jane around the dance floor, he reflected that Aveline was very likely correct in his observation, unorthodox as it was.

  Without thinking, Geoffrey caught himself humming the Messiah chorus. He cut himself off, smiling apologetically to the startled Lady Jane. Heat rose up his neck to his face for the first time in years. But he knew immediately where the song had come from.

  Liliana. His Handel. Just the thought of her brought the scent of apples and lemons to his nose. The desire that had been so noticeably lacking upon touching Lady Jane came roaring to life with the mere memory of Liliana, making his body tighten.

  “You play very well,” Geoffrey said around the knot in his throat. He needed to refocus his attention on Lady Jane. “But what is it you truly like to do? What is your life’s work?”

  Even as he said the words, an image of Liliana in her boys’ pants, wading through the bog, rose to greet him. It was followed by the smile of satisfaction he’d witnessed light her face this afternoon when Mr. Witherspoon had professed his improvement.

  Lady Jane blinked her eyes several times. “My life’s work?”

  “Yes,” Geoffrey said, thinking it telling that he’d used Liliana’s terminology. “What do you hope to accomplish once you leave your father’s home? What mark do you hope to leave on the world?”

  “Well, I—” Lady Jane closed her mouth, her brow furrowing in obvious confusion. “I suppose I want to be a good wife, a good mother. I want to help my husband in whatever he chooses to do.”

  Geoffrey barely heard her answer as awareness stole through him. His head automatically turned toward the entrance.

  Liliana.

  A vision in blue, she plucked his attention from his partner as surely as she’d plucked the yellow bog asphodel from the marsh this morning. His eyes were immediately drawn to her bosom. Good God, he’d never seen her wear such a low-cut gown. She was every bit as perfect as he’d imagined. Half of him longed to look his fill while the other fought the urge to rush over and cover her with his jacket.

  Liliana couldn’t be any more different from the girl he held in his arms. Liliana’s dark hair with its unruly curls and glints of red glistened in the candlelight, whereas Lady Jane’s perfect blond coiffure seemed flat in comparison. Liliana’s olive skin glowed golden against the rich blue of her dress, whereas Lady Jane’s seemed to blend into her lighter gown. Liliana gave off waves of sensuality, intelligence and tranquility in equal measure, whereas Lady Jane gave an impression of social poise and the confidence of noble birth, but little else.

  And Liliana made Geoffrey want to sweep her away and do unspeakable things with her in private places, whereas Lady Jane inspired only a desire to return her to her mother.

  Geoffrey tore his gaze from Liliana and focused his polite attentions back on his dance partner. He owed that to Lady Jane until the conclusion of the waltz, yet he found that simple act more difficult than sitting still on the battlefield while the surgeon cauterized his wounds.

  Lady Jane was still looking at him oddly. Geoffrey smiled to put her at ease. But in truth he wanted to laugh, one thing becoming perfectly clear to him. “Lady Jane,” he said, “I’m certain you will make someone an excellent wife.”

  But not him.

  When the interminable dance ended, he politely escorted Lady Jane toward Lady Northumb. His ire rose as he observed the woman and his mother whispering back and forth, confident smiles wreathing their faces. Discussing wedding gowns and cakes, no doubt. Well, it wouldn’t bother him one bit to disappoint them.

  He presented Lady Jane to her mother. “Not only are you an accomplished musician,” he said, refraining from kissing Jane’s hand, “but a superb dancer, as well. Thank you for the pleasure.”

  He nodded, then turned on his heel and departed, making straightaway for Liliana. He didn’t need to look back to see his mother’s face. He knew she’d be furious.

  He cared not. On the surface, Liliana Claremont was absolutely wrong for him. But underneath, he was beginning to think she might be absolutely right. No, she’d never be the political hostess he’d need, but she could be a partner. A real partner. She and her passions made him feel alive. Her life’s work, as she put it, complemented his own and was inspiring in and of itself. They could accomplish much together. At least he knew that he could trust her. And if love did develop with a woman like that, would it be so awful? He didn’t know.

  But there was only one way to find out, and as the strategy formed in his mind, it seemed the perfect way to thwart his mother’s plans while advancing his own.

  He’d have to phrase things delicately. Liliana had made it clear she had no plans to marry, but what he had in mind could hurt her chances should she change her mind. Nor did she seem to be fond of others’ scrutiny, which his attentions to her would quite guarantee. On the other hand, Liliana was rather unconventional and most decidedly had her own mind. She may very well be open to his idea.

  He certainly hoped so, as he wanted to get to know her a whole lot better, starting right this moment.

  * * *

  “Might I tempt you to join me in the Allemande, Liliana?” Geoffrey asked, bowing before her.

  Liliana took a deep breath and gave him her most welcoming smile, though inside she was all aflutter. He’d noticed her the moment she’d entered the ballroom. She’d felt his gaze like a living thing, and whatever heat had caused his cobalt eyes to burn had warmed her blood until it tingled in
her veins.

  “The Allemande?” She placed her hand over her chest. If memory served, that particular dance wasn’t too vigorous. She shouldn’t have to worry about coming out of the top of her very fashionable bodice. “I think that should be safe,” she muttered.

  Geoffrey’s lips curved up in smile.

  He led her across the ballroom with its damask-covered walls and high ceilings. The multiple arched windows were open and covered in a gauzy material that floated with the light breeze. Liliana gave silent thanks for the cool night air, for it seemed that when she put her arm on Geoffrey’s, the temperature in the room spiked.

  As they passed by the countess, a chill broke through Liliana’s flush and skittered down her back. Liliana nodded a greeting. Lady Stratford’s face remained cool, as usual, but her eyes flashed hostility. Liliana couldn’t contain the involuntary shiver.

  As she and Geoffrey took their places facing each other at the end of the row of dancers, Geoffrey said, “I’m sorry about Mother. I’m afraid she’s not happy that I’ve chosen you to partner over her selection.”

  “Is that why she’s taken a dislike to me?” Liliana asked, as casually as she could manage. Lady Stratford would certainly prefer that Geoffrey spend his time with Lady Jane rather than with her, but was that the true reason she’d been so cold to Liliana from the moment they’d first met?

  Witherspoon’s story had shaken Liliana, throwing her thoughts into a jumble. Could the countess have been the cause of her husband’s death? And if so, what, if anything, could that have to do with Papa’s murder?

  Geoffrey stepped toward her, to the center of the aisle. Liliana started, remembering she was supposed to be dancing. She met him, touching her right hand to his as they bowed to each other. Even through her glove, the touch seemed intimate, and for a moment all of her attention focused squarely on Geoffrey.

  “You look dashing tonight,” she blurted, then nearly clapped a hand over her mouth. She was such a ninny when she was distracted, too used to speaking her mind to remember to hold her tongue.

  Geoffrey’s slow smile made the slip almost worth it. “Do I?” He leaned in close, and she caught a hint of mint. His voice deepened as they circled each other in the first steps of the dance. “Surely you know how ravishing you look tonight.”

  Liliana was glad the dance called for her to turn away from him at that moment so he couldn’t see her blush. She’d never call herself ravishing, but she knew the blue of her dress accentuated her coloring well. She’d been mortified when the modiste had suggested it. The bodice was cut extremely low, and the high waist showcased her bosom. She’d almost refused it after the final fitting, but now, given the pleasure she got from the way Geoffrey looked at her, Liliana was fiercely glad Pen had made her order the little satin slip dress.

  “You flatter me overmuch, Geoffrey,” she said as she turned a graceful figure eight around first him, then the woman next to her in the procession. Geoffrey followed suit with the gentleman next to him.

  “I believe that is the first time you’ve used my name,” Geoffrey said, taking her hand as they twirled. He gave it a slight squeeze, drawing her gaze to his intense one. “The first of many times, I pray.”

  Their hands touched and her forehead nearly grazed his. She could almost feel the vibration of his voice.

  “I’ve come to like you very much, Liliana,” Geoffrey murmured. “We have a great deal more in common than I’d imagined. And as to that, I have a proposition for you.”

  Liliana was loath to move away from him into the figure eight that would once again advance them down the line. What could Geoffrey possibly mean, a proposition?

  Finally, a gliding step brought her face-to-face with him. “A proposition?” she asked, but before he could answer, he had to turn away.

  Blast this dance! Always moving one away from her partner. Liliana joined arms with the woman next to her perfunctorily, yet inside she bristled, anxious to return to her conversation with Geoffrey.

  They met in the center, Geoffrey taking her hand for the twirl. “Well, as I see it, you and I have been done the same wrong,” he said, his voice dropping lower.

  Liliana’s stomach clenched, the pressure so powerful it cut off her breath. All the while, the figure eight forced her away once again. He couldn’t mean their fathers. He couldn’t. Yes, he’d spoken to Witherspoon alone, but only for a moment. Surely not long enough for the man to relay his tale. Nor had Geoffrey seemed upset when he’d escorted her to the tea shop so she might return with the other ladies.

  Liliana and Geoffrey met face-to-face, touching hands before turning away. Another loop with the neighbor woman, and Liliana again joined Geoffrey in the center. Best to act ignorant, not give away anything until she knew more. “I don’t understand.”

  “My mother,” he said, shaking his head. As close as their foreheads were throughout the twirl, Liliana felt the air move counterpoint against her skin. “She’s put me in a regrettable position, I fear.”

  “Yes,” Liliana murmured. She could certainly see where learning his mother may have killed his father would be regrettable. But why would Geoffrey say they had been done the same wrong?

  Liliana sucked in a breath. Could he mean Lady Stratford had also been responsible for her father’s death?

  “Just as your aunt has put you,” Geoffrey continued.

  What? Liliana missed a step in the intricate dance and trod upon the foot of the woman next to her, who yelped in surprised outrage.

  Liliana mumbled an apology and tried to recover. What had her aunt to do with anything?

  “Your aunt brought you here hoping you might attract a husband,” he explained when next he moved close enough to keep their conversation private. “My mother has invited all of these women here in hopes that I might choose a bride. Neither of us wishes to comply. Therefore, I propose we band together.”

  A hysterical giggle bubbled from Liliana’s lips, earning her more than one glance.

  My goodness. What had she been thinking? It was just that after what she’d learned from Witherspoon, Geoffrey had surprised her with that “done the same wrong” statement, and then—

  “Is something amiss?” Geoffrey asked, tilting his head with concern.

  “No, no,” Liliana assured him. “Just embarrassed over my footing. Please, go on.”

  “Well, I’d like you to agree to allow me to squire you exclusively for the remainder of the house party,” he said.

  “You would…?” she said slowly.

  “I would. It should sufficiently annoy my mother and perhaps satisfy your aunt into letting you alone. Unless…” Geoffrey narrowed his eyes, a frown setting like the sun over the horizon of his lips. “You don’t have hopes where Aveline is concerned, do you? I wouldn’t wish to interfere if you have an understanding with him.”

  “What? No,” Liliana answered, marveling at the change in Geoffrey. His clenched jaw and rigid posture suggested he most certainly did wish to interfere with such a thing. A feminine thrill uncoiled in Liliana, even though she had no business feeling it. “No. In fact, I received a note from Aveline just this afternoon explaining he’d been called to Town and wouldn’t return to Shropshire for some time. I don’t expect to see him again.”

  Something about that still bothered Liliana, but she had far too many other mysteries to solve at the moment.

  Geoffrey cleared his throat. “Good.”

  Still, she should at least ask…“How well do you know Aveline?”

  Geoffrey shot her an odd look but answered. “Well enough, I suppose. We’ve been neighbors for years, though I’ve been gone for well over a decade.”

  That didn’t help much. “But would you consider yourselves friends?”

  Geoffrey shrugged, though he seemed to be bristling from the line of questioning. “He’s a good enough man, as far as I remember. His mother was French, came over well before the Terror, but certainly because her family sensed what was coming. Aveline took a bit of ribbin
g over being half French after war broke out. It grew worse when he was detained in France for several years, along with other British tourists. Some questioned his loyalty,” he said, taking her hand once more as they entered the last movement. “But I don’t want to talk about Aveline. I’d rather discuss my proposal.”

  The ending strains of the violins echoed through the air. Geoffrey turned Liliana in the final twirl.

  “What do you think?” Geoffrey asked, settling her arm on his.

  “I must consider for a moment,” Liliana said, mulling over his suggestion. Part of her found it difficult not to rub her hands together with satisfaction. Her chances of finally uncovering the truth behind her father’s death increased a hundredfold if she attached herself to Geoffrey. And yet, his exclusive attentions would be considered by some to be tantamount to declaring himself. He’d been away for more than a decade and had probably not spent many years in the ballrooms. He might not understand that when they eventually parted, she would be the one looked at as tainted, as though something must have been wrong with her to lose Geoffrey’s regard. It would be her reputation ruined, if not actually, then practically.