Sweet Enemy (21 page)

She looked over at him, as if debating how to answer. He remembered her gibberish scribblings. More likely, she was debating how much he’d understand, which irked, true though it probably was. He sensed her mental shrug. “And water and air and living organisms, human and otherwise.” She paused, thinking. Melodic chirps and the crunching of leaves under their boots filled the silence. Liliana pursed her lips and her brow furrowed, as if struggling to express herself.

Geoffrey found the effect endearing, which only increased
his attraction to her. He shook his head. He was beginning to think that anything Liliana did would arouse him, which was all the more reason he
should
steer clear of her after this morning.

“I believe chemistry and physiology are interrelated,” she said. “Inside each living body, chemical processes are occurring all of the time. Much of what we understand of experimental chemistry has changed in the last few decades, yet great debate exists as to whether the chemical substances found in living things are fundamentally different in character from the inorganic.”

Enthusiasm bubbled in her voice, and her eyes had taken on a zeal reminiscent of passion. Geoffrey glanced away, his body reacting to her excitement, even though his mind knew it had nothing to do with him.

“I also believe the processes are more similar than we think, and if I can prove the correlation, just think what we could learn about precisely how our bodies work and how to prevent, or at least better treat, disease.”

He couldn’t keep his eyes from her for long.

“There has to be a way to isolate the chemicals within living things,” she continued, holding up one of the strikingly beautiful sundews, “like plants, and synthesize and reproduce them to create even more potent medicines.”

How fascinating she was, and how wholly different from any woman he’d ever known.

“So you’re trying to…”

“Ease people’s suffering,” she said, raising her chin. She stared at him, as if debating her next words. “Like yours.”

Shame heated his face, remembering how she’d offered to help him that first night and how curtly he’d dismissed her. “I owe you an apology—”

She raised a hand to stop him. “There is no need. You were in pain, which can make even a saint snappy. I had thought it was due to your catching my fall. But now…”

He stared at her, uneasy and yet fascinated with the
turn the conversation was taking. He couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Now?”

“It’s clear to me that you are in pain almost constantly.” She watched him avidly, and he did his best not to squirm. Her eyes were so large, so very expressive. “And not from any recent injury.”

Geoffrey regarded her with admiration. She was incredibly perceptive. Hiding the constant pain he’d been living with the past two years had become second nature. He hardly even noticed anymore, it being always in the background…a part of him now, more a constant tension of the muscles around his injury, strained from trying to compensate.

Still, he didn’t care for the vulnerability Liliana’s words and looks made him feel.

“Perhaps,” he allowed.

“Your war wound?” she asked, not mincing words.

He nodded, not surprised she knew of it. It was no secret, after all, though he never spoke of it.

“Can you tell me the nature of your injury?” she asked. “I really may be able to help.”

He regarded her, the desire to open himself both alarming and relieving. “I took a bayonet through the side,” he said. “Actually, it went in my back but came out the side,” he said, remembering the hot white agony, the spill and stench of his own blood. “But I was lucky. It missed my vitals.”

“But it tore through your muscles,” she said, nodding, “which would have stitched themselves back together however they could. I notice you often smell of mint. Is that a liniment you apply?”

Again Geoffrey was struck by her perceptiveness. “Yes, an old stable hand suggested I use a salve he’d made for horses.” He shrugged. “It helps.”

Liliana tugged at her lower lip. “Would you be willing to try a few of my suggestions? They might help as well.”

“I would,” he found himself saying.

She smiled, and he was absurdly pleased to have been
the one to have caused such a radiant expression. “First, I suggest we add some meadowsweet to your liniment. If we boil the root, it will help with the pain. How do you sleep at night?”

Geoffrey grinned at her rapid-fire responses. His intoxication with her grew, but this time not because of any physical stirrings, but because of her passion. “Not well. I’m usually so knotted, I require several drinks to relax. And then my bed is so uncomfortable, I end up sleeping on the floor.” He couldn’t believe he was admitting such delicate information.

“Hmm…” Her mouth twisted to the left. “I suggest less alcohol because it can actually inhibit sleep. We should try a few drops of willow bark beneath your tongue at night and before you do anything vigorous.”

Geoffrey felt himself flush hot, picturing vigorous things he’d like to do with her.

Oblivious to his randy thoughts, Liliana went on. She made suggestions such as a heel implant inside his boot on the injured side to compensate while he was walking or standing, and hardwood slats beneath his bed to make it firmer. Simple things that made common sense, something so many young ladies were lacking. But Liliana proved herself every day to be more than just a typical young lady.

Still, why did she affect him so? He took in her open, easy expression, her simple, free hairstyle, the rough, practical nature of her attire, boys’ togs though they were. She reminded him less of a society debutante and more of…

Of the women he’d become friends with during the war. That must be why he felt so comfortable with her. Several women had accompanied his regiment throughout the years—wives, mistresses and camp followers alike. Many a night was spent around the fire talking with this woman and that. He was always fascinated by their strength amidst the horror, by their courage, by their natural acceptance of life as it was—sometimes
painful, sometimes beautiful, often fleeting. How frivolous those women would find the lives of the ladies of the ton, how impractical. How wasteful. Much like Liliana seemed to.

He actually smiled. That must be it. No mystery, no stirrings of dreaded love, just comfort breeding familiarity and all that.

“How did you know I suffer with chronic pain?” he asked, curious. “Most people cannot tell. Or at the very least, they never mention it.”

She blushed at his reference to her boldness. But she answered. “My father was a scientist—a chemist, actually, but after he met my mother, a local healer, his passion turned to more medicinal science. He had many great theories, was working on several projects that would have helped mankind, but…” She looked away. “He was killed suddenly.”

Geoffrey blanched at the raw pain in her voice. “Killed? How?”

She turned her gaze to him and stared into his eyes, as if searching for something. “By street thugs,” she said finally, “when I was ten. My mother died when I was three. She contracted smallpox while caring for a local family.” Liliana lifted her shoulders in a vulnerable shrug that caught at his heart. “I suppose I am an amalgam of my parents. My life’s work, an extension of theirs. I want to use my knowledge and skills to make people’s lives better.”

Her life’s work.

Odd to hear the term from a woman. Utterly captivating and provocative and completely misplaced for her gender, as well. Yet he understood, having an overriding passion of his own. But how did she think to carry on such an endeavor with the responsibilities of home and famil— “You really don’t intend to marry at
all
, do you?”

She stopped walking, her eyes wide. With a slow shake of her head she said simply, “No.”

And at once several things about her made sense.

“You’re only here because your aunt forced you to come,” he said, remembering now how it always seemed Lady Belsham was dragging Liliana around, indeed even that very first night when they’d been introduced.

A slight frown marred Liliana’s face, but she gave a short nod.

She’d told him she had no desire to marry, of course, but he realized now that he just hadn’t believed her, hadn’t understood.

His chin lowered and he felt his shoulders loosen, as an unexpected mixture of disappointment, regret and relief flowed from his chest through his limbs, muddling his thoughts.

He should be thrilled, feel quite relieved, as it were. Knowing he could indulge his increasing desire to spend time with Liliana without fear of expectations, that he could enjoy the company of a female who wanted nothing from him but possibly friendship, should fill him with pleasure.

So why didn’t it?

Chapter Fourteen

“M

other wants to know what you’ve done to run off Lord Aveline,” Penelope inquired as she and Liliana trailed behind a dozen other girls through the high street of the village. The caravan of young misses drew curious glances as they passed, while shopkeepers threw open their doors, rushing out to display hats and ribbons or trays of divine-smelling cinnamon buns in an effort to entice the group inside. “She insists you must have tried another one of your
theories
on the poor man.”

“Of course not,” Liliana said absently. She glanced behind her. Unfortunately, another half dozen girls followed, making it impossible to slip away.

She detested shopping. She’d already been dragged through the milliner and a glove shop, yet not one of the group wanted to meander through the apothecary or the bookstore, and their chaperones—who were ensconced at the tea shop—insisted the girls stay together. Liliana had agreed to join this impromptu excursion only because it might give her the chance to check on Edmund Wentworth’s former valet. Though it had been only one day since she’d left her remedy for the man, she hoped he would feel up to visiting with her this afternoon.

Accepting that escape was impossible at this moment,
she turned back to Penelope. “Aveline has many business concerns,” she said. Still, she wondered at his sudden disappearance. Aveline hadn’t been at breakfast, though it had been his habit every morning this week. Nor had he shown for dinner and dancing last night. Had she offended him by abandoning him in the music room yesterday? Though she had no interest in Aveline, she had no wish to injure his feelings after the kindness he’d done her.

Yet doubt niggled. Aveline’s absence could be due to a completely different reason. She was quite certain it had been him she’d seen sneaking out of the library yesterday. An absurd protective instinct welled up in her chest for Geoffrey. She couldn’t fathom why Aveline would feel the need to sneak about their hosts’ home. Perhaps she should ask Geoffrey how well he knew his neighbor.

A short huff escaped her. She was one to call the kettle black.

“What?” Penelope asked, turning her head.

“Nothing.”

“Hmm,” Penelope said, eyeing Liliana. “Men and their business. Strange, isn’t it, the way the countess marched into the breakfast room and announced that Stratford, too, had some business come up and would not be attending any festivities today? What, do you suppose, is so important?”

“I’ve no idea, but whatever it is, it must be imperative enough to make it worth incurring the countess’ wrath.” Lady Stratford had been seething as she’d announced that her son wouldn’t rejoin the group until supper before abruptly calling off all planned activities for the morning and afternoon.

Unease fluttered in Liliana’s middle. What had prompted Geoffrey to cancel out on the party after being such a good sport this past week?

“My maid overheard that the countess and Stratford had a great row about it,” Lady Ann Manchester piped up from behind them, her eyes shining brightly. Several
heads turned, and as if by unspoken agreement, the women came to a halt to hear the latest bit of news. “The countess apparently had quite a tizzy when Stratford told her he’d be otherwise engaged for the day. She was heard shouting that there wasn’t anything more important than securing a proper wife.”

Liliana’s eyes were drawn to Lady Jane Northumb, standing two people to her right, listening avidly. Blond, fresh faced and from a prominent family, Lady Jane would be the kind of wife the countess would expect for her son.

Wouldn’t Lady Stratford be appalled to know Geoffrey had spent his morning with another, wholly unsuitable woman? Liliana had been reckless, staying out so long with him. They’d returned long after sunrise and had had to sneak in through a little-used servants’ entrance behind the back gardens. But, oh my, had it been exhilarating. Even though Geoffrey had frustrated her efforts to glean information, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d passed a more pleasant morning. She generally spent her early hours alone, working, so perhaps it was just the novelty of being with another person. But the moment the thought entered her mind, it rang false. She’d enjoyed herself so much because she’d been with Geoffrey.

And he’d asked her to ride with him again on the morrow.