Sweet Enemy (8 page)

“Good afternoon, Lady Belsham, Miss Belsham,” Stratford greeted as he joined them. He insinuated himself right next to Liliana.

She shifted uncomfortably, his presence overwhelming and subtly charged. Liliana caught a hint of mint—wintergreen, and stronger than it had been last night.

“Miss Claremont,” he said, turning his vivid blue eyes to her. “I am relieved to see you looking so well.” He gave her a practiced smile. “My compliments on your fetching ensemble.” He lowered his head, his voice rumbling against her ear. “Much better suited for catching a husband than your dress of last night,” he murmured.

His warm breath brushed against Liliana’s neck. Her ears turned hot with a mixture of confusion and rising ire. Did he mean he
knew
she wasn’t hunting a husband last night in her drab, dark attire? Or did he mean he still thought her a husband hunter, only much improved by a wardrobe change? Either way, she should be offended. She opened her mouth to set him down, but Aunt Eliza’s encouraging smile stopped her. “Why, thank you, my lord,” Liliana said sweetly, loud enough for Aunt to hear. “It’s so kind of you to notice.” She turned to Stratford and muttered low, “Too bad your manners don’t extend to private company.”

His facile smile slipped. “We need to talk,” he whispered. He turned back to Aunt Eliza. “Lady Belsham, might I steal your niece away for a stroll?”

Aunt beamed. “Of course.” She nodded at Liliana. “If you feel up to it, my dear?” All three pairs of eyes turned to look at her expectantly.

Liliana dearly wished to say she most certainly did
not
feel up to it—that she’d rather walk with the devil. As he stood there with his dark good looks, she decided he might very well
be
Lucifer. Was that jab about catching a husband designed to put her at ease, lull her into thinking he didn’t know why she was here? Why did he
really
wish to talk with her?

He raised an impatient black brow in challenge, and Liliana narrowed her eyes. He
knew
she didn’t want to go anywhere near him, blast him. He also knew she couldn’t risk him opening his mouth about last night.

He offered his arm.

Aunt Eliza discreetly cleared her throat.

Liliana cursed under her breath. “A stroll would be lovely.”

G

He swam in dangerous waters. He’d behaved despicably last night, and she had every right to be angry with him. Geoffrey glanced over at Miss Claremont—Liliana. He’d kissed the woman. He might as well make free with her name. She looked straight ahead, tension creasing the corners of her pursed lips. If she pressed them much harder, they would quickly turn as blue as the muslin caressing her bosom.

In his experience, a piqued woman was a volatile one. He had no wish to face his mother should Liliana work herself up to accusing him of ungentlemanly conduct, witness or no.

He was half surprised she hadn’t already. Now he intended to find out if she meant to.

Geoffrey placed his hand over hers where it rested on his forearm. “We both know ill health is not what kept you from breakfast this morning. You look far too becoming to be indisposed,” he said, glancing over at her. And she did. Her skin glowed a creamy gold in the afternoon
sunlight, and her hair glinted like copper coins when she turned her head. He wasn’t the only man to notice, he saw with no little disgruntlement. “Which makes me wonder…what reason would you have for not joining us this morning?”

Liliana’s face paled. Then bright flags of color splotched her cheeks and, if possible, she pressed her lips even more tightly together. Behind her stony expression, Geoffrey glimpsed a flicker. Guilt. No doubt about it.

Liliana maintained her silence, yet she could not hold his gaze. She looked away.

Geoffrey sighed. She
had
been plotting something this morning, some way to use his behavior last night to her advantage.

He’d lost control of their kiss. Even an innocent like her would recognize that he desired her. No doubt she’d spent the hours dressing just so, turning herself out perfectly to entice him. By absenting herself, perhaps she’d thought to whet his appetite a bit further.

His gaze raked her and desire coiled through him, twisting his gut with sharp longing.

Smart girl. Bloody hell.

And still she said nothing.

“Come, now, Liliana. Don’t say it’s maidenly distress that’s got your tongue.” He lowered his voice, partially to keep from being overheard but also to disguise the huskiness that entered his own tenor. “I know from the way you responded to my kiss last night, distress is far from what you feel.”

That got a reaction. The amethyst glare she leveled on him burned a path straight to his groin. Geoffrey sucked in a breath. Yet behind her outrage, he recognized awareness in Liliana’s eyes. And confusion. Grim satisfaction settled over him.

“You are quite correct, my lord,” Liliana bit out around a tight smile.

Geoffrey gave her a quick nod. Good of her to admit
she’d been affected by their interlude and was equally unsettled by it.

“Distress is not what I feel,” she continued, “so much as”—she tilted her head and raised a chestnut brow—“indifference.”

Geoffrey stopped abruptly, bringing Liliana awkwardly to a halt beside him.
Indifference
? He stared at her.

Her lips twisted, her other brow rising to join its sister.

Geoffrey narrowed his eyes. Indifference his arse. While he might not be sure exactly what
else
she wanted, he knew when a woman wanted him. And by God, Liliana Claremont wanted him.

“And, yes,” Liliana continued, slipping her arm from his and stepping ahead. “I admit I did prevaricate slightly about being ill this morning, but not for whatever reasons
you
think.” She continued walking, not even bothering to see if he followed. “I simply wished to avoid an awkward situation,” she said. She waved a hand backward in his direction. “For you.”

“For me?” Geoffrey snorted, disliking the way his voice ended on a high note. He trailed behind in an effort to hear her, like a damned lovesick boy.

She turned to him then, her violet eyes squinting slightly in the afternoon sun as she once again stopped. “Why, yes. To save you the embarrassment of having to apologize, of course. I know how men detest admitting they are wrong. However, since you’ve forced the issue, I suppose the only polite thing to do is to listen to your offer of contrition.”

Geoffrey choked.

Liliana tilted her head, giving him a smile that was both irritation and condescension yet fell short of actually being rude. Just.

Firming his jaw, he took a sharp breath through his nostrils. Had he lost his brass? Twice in two days he’d let a woman turn the tables on him.

He eyed Liliana for a moment, noticing the stiffness
with which she held herself, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts with each breath, the flurried irregular blinking of her eyes. The vision calmed him. He recognized bravado when he saw it.

She actually wanted to retreat. His every instinct told him so. Could she have been telling the truth when she’d insisted she had no designs on him? She wasn’t acting like a woman who wanted his attentions. Not like…

He glanced around the park, eyeing the legions of women and their mothers who were also eyeing him—and all but salivating and licking their lips. Geoffrey made a decision.

“Quite so, Miss Claremont,” he said, smoothly recapturing her arm and settling it again on his as they resumed walking. “I do owe you my deepest regrets. That is precisely why I requested this stroll. In fact, as an olive branch of sorts, I insist you accompany me for the rest of the afternoon activities.”

She blanched. “Accompany you?” Liliana gave a quick shake of her head. “Thank you, my lord, but that’s quite unnecessary. Your apology will suffice.”

Geoffrey gave her his best smile. “Oh, but I insist. It will give us a chance to start our friendship anew.” He patted her hand where it rested on his arm, gratified to elicit another shiver, to see her curtain of insouciance slip a bit. “Come,” he said as he led her toward the open field where the afternoon games were ready to commence.

He looked out over the grassy green field, which had been staked out in a rather large rectangle. He shook his head at the festooned ribbons looped through the posts. His mother had coined the afternoon festivities “A Return to Chivalry.” Each contestant was to choose a lady to champion, whom he would later escort to dinner and a supper ball. He knew she expected him to squire either Lady Emily Morton or Lady Jane Northumb, two of the most eligible debutantes in attendance. Geoffrey had been furious at first. But now he smiled to himself.
Mother would be the furious one when she saw his selected companion.

He cut his eyes to Liliana. She was tugging her lower lip between her teeth, likely trying to think of a way out of his company.

Why? Spending the afternoon with him wouldn’t hurt her. Besides, she’d pricked his pride, and the strictly male part of him couldn’t let that stand.

Geoffrey knew he would acquit himself well on the field. His years spent in the military gave him a distinct advantage over the country gentlemen he’d be competing against. In his experience, women were drawn to that prowess, and he was fairly certain he could remember how to turn on the charm.

He’d be damned if by the end of this night Liliana Claremont would still be claiming indifference to him.

“Newton’s apple,” Liliana muttered, the curse falling from her lips as naturally as said fruit fell to the earth when dropped. She considered it almost blasphemous to use Newton’s name as a curse, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to take the Lord’s name in vain, and to her, Sir Isaac was the next best thing.

Stratford led her to the front of the crowd and deposited her on a chair nearest the field of play. Brows around them rose, and envious glares speared her when he lifted her hand to his lips, making the tips of her ears burn.

Or perhaps it was the way Stratford wickedly caressed the underside of her wrist beneath her glove as he bowed.

“I do hope you enjoy the exhibition,” he murmured low, so only she could hear. A benign statement, but the way he said it sent a hot shiver through her.

Liliana could manage only a nod.

Stratford flashed her a devilish smile and departed to join a gathering group of gentlemen.

Feeling eyes upon her, Liliana shifted, smoothing her
skirts and tucking one foot behind the other. Her fists balled in her lap. She hated being under scrutiny.

She clenched her teeth. She also hated being delayed. She
should
be searching for her father’s letters this very moment.

Liliana watched Stratford from beneath her lids. She’d done her best to put him off, but instead it was as if he’d dug in his heels.

Her stomach fluttered as she released a shaky breath. She raised two fingers to her temple. Never could she remember feeling such confusion, such a jumble of nerves and unknowns circling her brain, causing a nauseous churning in her middle.

She’d thought for sure that she’d been caught when he asked the reason for her absence this morning. Liliana wrinkled her nose. Insulting him probably hadn’t been the appropriate reaction to his charges, but it was the only thing she could think of to distract him from his interrogation. And now she still didn’t know whether he suspected her or whether he was just—

“Your ribbons, miss.”

Liliana turned her head in surprise toward the maid who’d appeared on her right. The girl stood looking at Liliana expectantly, brandishing a silver tray. Three lavender ribbons lay pooled on the shiny surface.

“
My
ribbons?” Liliana asked.

“Yes, well, I know they’re not the same color as your dress, but we didn’t have any ribbons that shade of blue.” The maid sniffed, then gave a little shrug. “His lordship picked these out for you special. Said they reminded him of your eyes.” The maid pushed the tray toward Liliana, who picked up the ribbons, still unsure what she was to do with them. But the girl flounced off before Liliana could question her further.

“Stratford is certainly taking this chivalry business a bit far,” came the pinched voice of the young lady sitting to Liliana’s left. Liliana glanced over at the pretty
blonde, attired in a pale pink gown. She held three ribbons of a similar shade between her fingers.

What did she mean, this chivalry business? Not having attended the morning activities or nuncheon, Liliana felt at a distinct disadvantage.

“Yes,” answered a brunette dressed in yellow, holding three yellow ribbons. “Choosing the least acceptable woman here is too much.”

A sinking feeling overcame Liliana as her eyes traveled down the row. There were twelve women, including herself, each holding three ribbons. The other eleven were staring right back at her, some curiously, some disdainfully, and a couple downright angrily.