Sweet Enemy (37 page)

But Liliana persisted, pushing it into his hands until he had no choice but to take it. The hard lines of the wood scratched his fingers as a splinter pierced his skin.

Geoffrey moved to the chaise and sat, ignoring the sting of pain, the drip of blood that smeared the surface. He removed the lid and placed it on the seat beside him before peering inside the box.

Three bundles of letters wrapped in aged ribbon lay on the bottom, along with some miscellaneous papers.
Geoffrey glanced up at Liliana, who stood before him, perhaps four feet away. She looked as if she weren’t breathing. Tension marred every part of her being, and the edge of her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. “What is this?” he asked.

“Proof that your father was responsible for the death of mine.”

“What?”

She’d said the words so unemotionally, so matter-of-factly, so soberly, that for a moment Geoffrey didn’t grasp them. Yet the breath caught in his throat and his mouth went dry as his body comprehended her meaning, even if his mind was slow to follow.

Liliana clasped her hands together in front of her, as if in prayer or perhaps supplication. But Geoffrey could see the strain in her forearms. “I told you my father was murdered.”

“Yes, by street thugs,” he said.

Liliana dipped her head. “That was the official ruling. What I failed to tell you is that he’d received a letter in the days before his death. A letter that lured him to the place where he was attacked.”

Geoffrey’s eyes darted back to the box, drawn to a faded scrap of vellum, marked with a broken seal…a familiar seal.

“A letter written by your father,” Liliana finished, saying the words he’d known would come next.

Shock, like a swift kick, exploded through him and radiated to his temples. Anger followed quickly. “My father would never do such a thing,” he growled, and yet he reached into the box and snatched up the missive. He easily recognized his father’s scrawl.

We have been compromised. Meet me two days hence. Same time and location.

“Where did you get this?” he demanded, not looking up, his mind awhirl. And how long had she had it?

He heard Liliana draw a breath, as if she were having as much difficulty with that simple body process as he.
“In my father’s library, in a secret cache hidden behind his bookshelves.”

He jerked his head up, pinning her with his gaze. That meant she’d brought the note with her and had had it
the entire time she’d been at Somerton Park.
An image of her falling into his arms that very first night in the library flashed before him. She’d been…what? Dressed all in dark clothes, he remembered. Searching? An ache formed in his chest, but he willed it away. First, he needed to figure out exactly what Liliana was saying.

“What else was in the cache?”

She nodded her head toward the box on his lap. “Two of those three bundles of letters.”

Geoffrey picked up the packets, setting the box aside. His movements were slow and sure, and part of him recognized that the soldier in him had taken over, had shut down emotion. The paper felt brittle beneath his fingers as he raised the first bundle. The words were in French, the handwriting unknown. The second bore the script of his father. Geoffrey closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe his father would have anything to do with murder, but clearly, a connection to Liliana’s father was certain. And if Liliana was to be believed, her father was murdered shortly after he received this final note.

Bloody hell. Could
this
be what the blackmailer had alluded to in his threat? Or
her
threat? He eyed Liliana suspiciously, thinking once again about her behavior the first night she was here. Could she possibly be the one who’d sent the note? No. The idea of her as blackmailer made no sense. Why would she bring the evidence to him if she were the one trying to extort him? But clearly she had knowledge that could harm his family, and if she breathed even a word of it, his political reputation and all that he’d worked for would be in shambles.

“The letters in French and the ones from your father were together,” Liliana said, interrupting his thoughts. “The others, the ones from my own father, I found here.”

Geoffrey glanced at the third packet but untied the
ribbon around his father’s notes and skimmed through them instead, trying to ascertain what could possibly be fodder for a blackmailer. Yet, the letters spoke of nothing in particular, just paragraphs of narrative that made no sense. What was their importance and why had Liliana’s father possessed them? “These letters are completely innocuous,” Geoffrey said.

“Yes,” Liliana acknowledged. She came forward hesitantly and her clean scent tantalized his nose. Despite the situation, desire rose in him and he found it a challenge to focus on her words. “You’ll find the ones from my father match in tone and content. The ones in French are devoid of real meaning as well, appearing to be nothing of consequence.”

“Yet you believe otherwise. Why?” The question floated from his mouth, an automatic reply that sounded odd and hollow to his ears. It was the proper question, the appropriate response in this conversation, and yet Geoffrey couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the topic at all. Only moments ago, he’d been making love with this woman, had actually asked her to
marry
him, and now he was calmly asking why she thought his father had killed her own and trying to ascertain how much of a threat she might be to his future.

She sat on the chaise beside him, as tentative as a bird ready to take wing at the first sign of danger, yet the look in her eyes almost begged for something. Forgiveness? Understanding?

Geoffrey did his best to shield himself from the pain threatening to skewer him.

“The fact that both of our fathers not only kept the letters but secreted them away, for one,” she said.

Geoffrey nodded. He’d come to the same conclusion, but he wanted to hear her thoughts. He couldn’t think about all of the implications now, yet a dull throbbing ache filled his chest. Liliana might be duplicitous and cunning, but she was also a brilliant woman. He’d be a fool to discount whatever theories she might have, but
he’d need to use caution. He’d give her nothing until he sorted out this situation himself. Alone.

How it hurt to realize he was the only person he could trust after all.

“But also because of this.” Liliana reached into the box and drew out another paper and unfolded it. Her arm brushed against his in the process, and the ache he felt intensified.

Liliana held the paper where he could see it, too. Her efficient handwriting had marked several letters in different succession, with interspersed blanks, almost as if she were trying to break a code. He raised his eyes to hers.

“You believe there’s a code?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. In the months before my father was killed, he grew obsessed with codes. Since it was just he and I, he usually included me in whatever he was working on, and this was no different. He began to leave me notes in code all of the time. Now I can see it was likely a way to keep me distracted and out from underfoot while he…” A frown crumpled her features before she cleared her throat. “He would shift the alphabet, matching the letter
A
to a letter of his choice.”

A Caesar shift.
Geoffrey was familiar with the common cipher, once used by the Roman army, but it wasn’t very sophisticated. It could be broken easily, which was why it was rarely used anymore.

“And I would try various patterns until I found the one that deciphered his message.” A sad smile flitted across her face. “He said it taught me to use my mind and to learn persistence.”

It seemed she’d learned that lesson well, since she’d been searching since she’d arrived at Somerton Park— A sick feeling grabbed him. Had her persistence led her to pursue him so that she could glean information when she’d run out of clues?

Liliana sighed. “But I’ve tried all twenty-six variations to no avail,” she said, confirming the worst of it.

Geoffrey’s anger burst through the dam he’d hastily erected at her very first accusation.
That’s
why she’d finally brought this to him. Because she could go no further on her own and she needed his help.

The realizations he’d been trying to hold back came rushing through the breach. Liliana had been deceiving him from the first moment they’d met. She
had
been rifling through his library when he’d accused her of trying to trap him into marriage. He thought back to how she’d tried to avoid him in the days that had followed. It made sense, now that he knew she’d been sneaking behind his back from the very beginning.

Had she learned his habit of morning rides and arranged their meeting in the meadow? Damn it all. And he’d fallen for it like a fool, telling himself she was different. What else had she manipulated? Pain burst within him, stealing his breath, but he couldn’t let her see. He couldn’t think about the breadth of her betrayal right now.

Geoffrey forced calm. He had to focus on the problem at hand. A code. A Caesar shift. What could he remember about those?
There had to be a key.
Yes, to make a Caesar shift more difficult to crack, the parties would often choose a specific word. They’d start the alphabet with that word, skipping any letters already used, until the key was spelled out. Then it was only a matter of filling in the rest. Without the key, the code would be nearly impossible to break.

But both men who might know the key had been dead for fourteen years.

He looked back at the box, his eyes drawn to the third packet, the letters from Liliana’s father. “You said you found your father’s letters here at Somerton Park? Where?” Father had always been a bit absentminded. He would have likely stored the letters in a place that would remind him of the key.

Liliana’s entire body seemed to lower. Her shoulders drooped, her head dropped, her eyes fell. “Amongst your father’s stored things in the family wing.”

“How the hell did you—” It hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. She’d used the secret passage. And he’d given her the access himself so as to preserve her reputation during their trysts. Bile rose in Geoffrey’s throat. Everything had been a lie. Every sweet kiss, every stolen moment a scheme to find what she was after.

His skin crawled as he thought of how he’d felt moments ago, when she’d sweetly given herself to him. How his heart had swelled with joy, when all she was doing was using him. And her declaration of love, her tears of remorse. Weren’t they just another ploy to win his sympathies when she was forced to come to him for help?

He wanted to hurl the accusation at her feet, but he couldn’t. Not until he got what he needed from her.

“Where specifically?” he asked, glad his voice remained calm while his insides were raging. “Were they hidden inside anything?”

Liliana nodded, her expression sad and open. Geoffrey could hardly stand to look at her, but he held her gaze. “Yes. They were in a book safe.”

“Did the book have a title?”

The corners of Liliana’s eyes turned down and tiny lines formed around her mouth. “It was a biography of Marc Antony,” she said. “Why?”

Geoffrey made his face as blank as an erased school board. His father had always been fascinated by history and antiquity, particularly Egypt—which had naturally led to an interest in Antony, who was so wrapped up in both. Geoffrey had never cared for the Roman general, whom he’d thought weak for letting a woman completely ruin his life.

And now he was no better.

He narrowed his eyes. “Just curious. Having been in the dark all this time, can you blame me now for wanting every detail?”

Liliana’s cheeks fired red. Good. Perhaps she’d be focused more on her shame, if that was what she was feeling,
and less on why he’d asked that particular question. Still, Liliana was smart. It mightn’t take her long to figure it out.

Well, she’d given the letters to him. He wouldn’t give them back and allow her a chance to crack the code without him. Indeed, when he cracked it himself, he wouldn’t share what he learned with her at all. It would serve her right, to have whored herself for nothing.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Liliana whispered, her amazing violet eyes brimming with tears, and for a horrid moment, Geoffrey longed to engulf her in his arms and soothe her.

“Don’t.” Whether he said these words to her or to himself, he was not sure. The harshness in his voice betrayed more than Geoffrey would have liked. But he could hear no more of her lies. How many times early in his parents’ marriage had he watched his father give in to Mother’s tears and manipulations? How long had his father been made miserable because of his feelings for a deceitful woman?

“But, Geoffrey, I need—”

“I’ve heard enough of your lies,” he bit off. He could no longer contain his rage. She looked so beautiful there beside him, tears glistening off of her lashes just like the moisture clinging to the tips of that extraordinary plant they’d picked in the bog. Indeed, wasn’t she just like the majestic sundew, a carnivorous trap of a flower, luring creatures to their demise? Well, he’d made a close escape. But he wouldn’t allow her to devour his heart.