Sweet Enemy (12 page)

Absolutely not. She’d never be able to search, then. She must put a stop to this.

“Done,” Stratford said, holding out his palm.

Aveline reached out and shook Stratford’s outstretched hand.

This was
her
wager, blast them! “Gentlem—”

Aveline squeezed her arm and lowered his head. “Don’t make this worse than it is,” he whispered.

Liliana slumped. He was right.

“I don’t know what lies between you, but if you don’t wish to spend the next two weeks with Stratford, I suggest you make certain we win,” Aveline said, and turned her toward the shooting line.

The crowd followed, silent and rapt, as if watching a carriage wreck. Servants rushed to set up two new targets.

Liliana’s stomach turned over. There was more than her feminine pride on the line now.

Dear God, she absolutely had to win this wager.

“D

Liliana fidgeted, shifting her weight from foot to foot as both men nodded and handed the weapons back to Holbrook.

“In the interest of fairness, Aveline, I must inquire as to your shooting ability,” Viscount Holbrook stated. Being met with silence, he clarified. “What I mean is, do you feel you are on par with Stratford?”

Liliana looked to Aveline, who had elected to remove his jacket but retained his waistcoat and neck cloth. In his buff-colored leggings and burgundy-striped vest, Aveline radiated sheer elegance, even while rolling up his puffed sleeves. Dear Lord, how could a town gentleman have a chance against a military veteran like Stratford?

Aveline regarded Holbrook with hooded eyes.

“I am a decent shot,” he answered vaguely.

A decent shot?
Liliana nearly groaned. Her chances could be up in smoke before the hammer was even
cocked. Aveline’s bland smile did nothing to reassure her. She prayed his relaxed attitude was the benefit of confidence and not a product of his lack of stake in the game.

“I will admit that I have yet to hit the center with a flintlock pistol, m’self,” he added, sounding unconcerned.

Holbrook nodded. “Stratford, as you will be firing the unaltered weapon, first choice is yours.” He flipped the guns in his hands and held both curved burl-wood handles toward Stratford.

Debating only a moment, Stratford chose the pistol on the left. He walked over to the firing line without saying a word, determination lining his features.

He hadn’t once looked at her since making his ridiculous demands, while she’d caught herself staring at him numerous times. She hated to admit it, but it rankled.

Holbrook drew her attention.

“Miss Claremont, do you require time and, or, er”—Holbrook flushed, likely not sure how to phrase the question—“tools to make your modifications?”

Her chest tightened as seemingly every other eye on the estate turned to her as well. There were some, like her aunt, with faces pinched in disapproval, but many showed rampant curiosity.

It took all of her willpower not to pull a silly face at the lot of them. Did they think she’d file off half of the barrel or something? An irrational smile threatened as she visualized herself manically sawing through metal as all and sundry looked on.

“Just a few moments,” she answered, motioning a passing maid. How she wished she wore one of her own dresses. She always carried her tinderbox in the oversized pockets. Liliana sighed. Regardless, she could still win. She’d just have to substitute.

Liliana whispered to the girl, then started over to where Aveline stood, checking his munitions. He held the gun out as she approached. “How do you intend to alter this weapon?” he asked.

Liliana waved it away. “I won’t touch the gun,” she said, “just the powder. Be sure to clean the pan, flint and frizzen very well. Leave no residue—wipe it with a moist cloth, then a dry one if you have to—and load the ball as you normally would. I’ll put in the powder.”

Aveline contemplated her, his sharp green gaze assessing. Then he started brushing out the pan with quick, efficient flicks.

Liliana cut her eyes to Stratford, who methodically cleaned his own weapon.

What had prompted his rash terms? He couldn’t truly want to spend time with her…could he? Was it wounded pride that demanded her presence, or had he known what she was about all along? He could see winning this wager as the perfect way to keep her underfoot and unable to investigate.

His wooden expression gave no inkling.

The maid appeared and handed Liliana a wrapped handkerchief. Thin lines of confusion marred the girl’s face. Liliana didn’t blame her. All she had time for was a parlor trick at best. She wasn’t even sure it would work.

Liliana unwrapped the contents, then laid the handkerchief out on the judging table and removed her gloves. She measured a portion, crumbling a bit of the gritty crystalline substance with her thumbnail, and began crushing it with a spoon the maid had provided. What she wouldn’t give for a mortar and pestle—the finer the grain, the faster it would burn. Still, this should do.

“What’s that?” Aveline asked.

Liliana smiled. “Magic.” She finished grinding, then scooped the handkerchief up with the powder inside. She walked over to Aveline. “All right, now, fill the pan not quite a third full with the priming powder,” she instructed. The spoiled-egg odor of sulfur tickled her nose. “Be careful not to add too much.”

Aveline quirked a black brow at her but followed her command wordlessly.

“Perfect,” she whispered as he finished. “If you
wouldn’t mind?” she prompted, indicating the prying eyes of the crowd around them. Aveline understood and shielded their actions from the others with a turn of his body.

“Thank you,” Liliana murmured, then took a pinch from the handkerchief and sprinkled it into the pan. She cocked her head and debated, then added half a pinch more. She plucked a pin from her hair and gently stirred the powder mix. “That should do it,” she said.

Please, please, please, this had to work.

Aveline furrowed his brow but took his place at the firing line, where Stratford already waited.

Stratford turned and looked at her then. The gaze he fixed her with melted her to the spot. She knew he intended to win, and his look promised retribution when he did.

Liliana drew in a thready breath as he turned his attention back to his target.

“Shooters ready?” Holbrook’s voice queried. The crowd quieted.

Stratford and Aveline both squared themselves to their targets.

Liliana’s heart thumped hard.

“Aim…”

She firmed her jaw. This was the moment. The moment where she’d be made a fool or be proven right.
And likely still be considered a fool, by male and female alike.
She frowned. Well, better a vindicated fool. “Aim true,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on Aveline’s back.

“Fire!”

Two distinct shots rang out, one just before the other. Liliana resisted the urge to whoop. Though it was impossible to gauge with the naked eye, in her heart she knew Aveline’s weapon had fired quicker. If his aim was good, they should win out.

Servants ran out to retrieve the targets. Liliana stepped up to Aveline’s side, squinting as she watched the boys. She held her breath.

“Nicked it, ’e did!” came one of the boys’ shouts. “Lord Aveline. Near dead center.”

The boy looking at Stratford’s target just shrugged.

Liliana felt her face spread in a relieved smile. She closed her eyes, ridiculously proud of herself.

The results were quickly verified, and an appreciative cheer went up. Choruses of “Nice shot, Aveline” were heard mostly, but an occasional “Well done, Miss Claremont” peppered the murmurings as the majority of the crowd dispersed.

Liliana looked to Stratford. She found him staring right at her, his eyes narrowed. Not with anger, she thought, but something altogether more dangerous to her—

“Yes, well done, Miss Claremont.” Lord Aveline’s smiling face appeared before her, blocking her view. He handed the spent weapon over to Holbrook. “Usually, I aim a little low, but I put my faith in you and aimed right for the center. She fired so fast!” He grinned. “Now, you must tell me how you did it.”

“Chemistry,” Liliana answered, moving her head to look around Aveline at Stratford, but he’d disappeared. Where had he gone? She returned her attention to her champion. “I simply sped up the reaction, which propelled the ball out of the barrel at a faster rate.”

Aveline squinted his eyes and pulled his head back a touch, giving her the male version of Penelope’s “drop the scholarly tone and speak plain English, please” look. “Yes, but how? What did you add to the powder?”

Liliana laughed. “Sugar.”

“Sugar? As in tea and milk and all that?”

She nodded. “Yes. Gunpowder is generally a mix of charcoal, sulfur and saltpeter or niter, in very precise mixtures. Charcoal is the fuel, and saltpeter the oxidizing agent.”

Aveline nodded. “Yes, I know that, but where does the sugar come in?”

Liliana glanced around once more. Where was Stratford?
Winning didn’t seem nearly as satisfying if one couldn’t flaunt one’s victory a little.

Still, several people had gathered around them, listening. A mixture of pride and unexpected stage fright swirled around in Liliana’s middle.

“Sugar is a carbon, much like charcoal. I simply altered the mixture a smidge, giving the powder more fuel. Since the fire caught quicker and burned hotter, the gases expanded more rapidly, increasing the speed and force with which the ball left the gun.”

“Ah,” said someone.

“Brilliant,” said another.

Liliana’s chest swelled.

Aveline chuckled. “Splendid. I shall have to add a lump or two to my powder from here on.”

A chorus of gentlemen’s laughter went round.

Liliana’s smile froze. “Ah,” she drew out. “I wouldn’t recommend that, my lord.”

Aveline’s brows drew down in confusion. “Whyever not?”

“There are too many variants that can affect the stability of the ratio,” Liliana explained. “Take moisture, for example. I knew the humidity was right today for a positive outcome, but if it had been damp, it may not have worked as intended. There are many other such things you’d need to take into consideration if you wanted to try it again.”

“Ah,” Aveline said, lifting one shoulder. “There goes my advantage. Nevertheless, it was my honor to be your champion.”

Liliana returned his smile. “My savior, more like.” Of her pride and, what’s more, from the fate of two weeks stuck by Stratford’s side.

She glanced around for Stratford one last time and caught a flash of his tall frame slipping through the hedgerow. It seemed she’d annoyed him so greatly he couldn’t even bring himself to congratulate her. Liliana let out a puff of breath. At least she’d seen the last of
him, but…She blinked. Was that disappointment she felt? Oh my, it was! What had gotten into her?

Aveline pulled a watch from his vest pocket and glanced at it, drawing her attention back to him. “As much as I hate to leave, Miss Claremont, I must get back home if I’m to have time to dress and return as your escort tonight.”

“Home?” If Aveline was leaving, she’d have the rest of the afternoon free. “You’re not a guest at Somerton Park?”

Aveline shook his head. “My family estate borders Stratford’s land to the east. I can enjoy the festivities here by day and still sleep in my own bed at night.”

Liliana smiled. If Aveline wasn’t staying at the house, he’d likely have to return home
every
afternoon to dress for dinner, giving her at least some time to search. If she used it efficiently, she could still find what she came for.

Aveline tucked the timepiece back into his waistcoat. “You realize, of course, that I have no intention of holding you to the wager.”

“You don’t?”

Her elation must have shown on her face, because he said, “You needn’t look so happy about it.” But he grinned, so Liliana didn’t feel too guilty. “They were ridiculous terms anyway, made in the heat of masculine bartering. I have no desire to bind a woman to me who would rather be elsewhere.”

Brilliant! That had been almost too easy. Still, if she didn’t at least protest, Aveline might take it as insult. “My lord, that’s not—”

“You needn’t flatter me, Miss Claremont.” Aveline laughed. “We’ve only just met. However, I reserve the right to try to convince you that I have more to offer than just my steady aim.”

Was Aveline flirting? The wink he tossed her way certainly suggested so. How novel. Nonetheless, she wasn’t interested. The only thing she wanted was to discover
who killed her father and why so that she could see justice done.