Sweet Enemy (25 page)

More and more, he realized he wanted to delve into the enigma that was Liliana Claremont, to uncover more of what drove her. And that set him on dangerous ground.

But he wouldn’t have to worry about that tonight. The strains of violins and a cacophony of voices floated down the hallway. Tonight, he’d have to “do the pretty,” as it were. More guests had arrived this afternoon, and the numbers were expected to climb until the house party was in full swing in two nights’ time.

The moment he stepped into the ballroom, Geoffrey knew he was in for it. It seemed his mother intended to ratchet up her campaign to see him married, for she was waiting for him. And that was never a good thing.

“Your business is finished, I trust?”

Even her tone set his teeth on edge.

“As much as can be done for the moment,” he said, tugging first one cuff, then the other. He scanned the ballroom, not certain what he was looking for, only certain he had no intention of being caught in a discussion with the countess. To give her eye contact would simply encourage her.

He alighted upon Lady Emily Morton. With her nearly flaxen hair and luminescent silvery gray eyes set off by a low-cut gown of white silk, she was quite stunning. His gaze grazed over pale skin so delicate he could see traces of blue veins. She reminded him of a mute swan, all light and grace and fragility.

Until he met her eyes as she boldly stared him down. Then he imagined how a carcass might feel under the beady gaze of a buzzard.

He turned back to the countess, who suddenly seemed the safer of the two.

“The Morton girl
is
a bit forward,” his mother acknowledged with a slow nod of her head. “I can see why you’ve largely ignored her. You wouldn’t want an”—she seemed to search for a word—“aggressive wife, I’m sure. I may have miscalculated, thinking she might tempt you.”

Geoffrey nearly snorted. His mother, of all people, should know that he’d choose someone as different from herself as he could find.

Lady Stratford squeezed her arm through the crook of his, pulling him into what likely appeared to onlookers as a casual mother-son stroll around the ballroom.

“But I didn’t make a mistake with Lady Jane,” she said. “She’s sweet and biddable. She’s also young, which should make her easy to mold. Not to mention she’s the daughter of a man without whose support your little bill won’t see the light of day.”

Geoffrey stiffened. Damned Joss. He’d really hoped he could have trusted his uncle with the sensitive information, but it seemed Joss had proven to be as weak an ally as he’d feared. It seemed he could count on no one.

Except Liliana.
Geoffrey started at the unexpected thought, and yet he didn’t refute it.

“Come, Geoffrey. We both know there’s little love lost between us. But can you not admit that I want what’s best for this family?”

Geoffrey did snort then. “Since when did you want anything other than what’s best for you?” He shook his head, irritated that he’d even allowed himself to be drawn into this conversation. He made his tone as formal as he could. “I fail to see what you could possibly want out of my marriage, madame.”

“You wound me, Geoffrey,” his mother said, a slight tremble in her voice.

Geoffrey glanced over, surprised by the uncharacteristic weakness. He raised a brow, trying to decide if this vulnerability she showed was just another ploy to sway him.

The countess took a shaky breath. She kept her gaze straight ahead but lowered her voice. “You and I are all that’s left,” she said. One shoulder lifted in an absent shrug. “Well, there’s Joss, much good as he is.” She sighed. “I suppose he does have his uses.”

Yes. As your spy.
Geoffrey held his tongue. How like his mother to regard one’s value as only what one could do for her.

“I never expected to outlive your brother,” the countess
said after a few steps, and for a moment Geoffrey actually believed the stricken look upon her face. If she’d had any tender feelings in her life, they would have been for Henry. “Or you, for that matter,” she added, slanting her eyes to him, “even though you were at war for so long.”

She immediately looked forward again. “When your brother was killed, and then you were so grievously wounded, I realized that I could very well lose you both. And with you gone, I’d be at the mercy of your spineless uncle and whatever greedy little fool he could convince to marry him.”

Ah. There it was. Geoffrey almost smiled. That was the mother he knew.

“I’m no fool,” she said as they made the turn at the east end of the ballroom. She smiled and nodded at a member of the local gentry but did not stop. “I know I lack the power over you that I commanded over your brother. He was weak. You are not. I also know that you are ambitious, where he was not. I think you will find that I know you better than you think.”

She stopped walking and disengaged her arm, turning to face him. “I truly did give the invitees my sincerest consideration. With the exception of one or two…” A frown crossed her face before her expression returned to its customary coolness. “Any number of the others would be a very good match for you, politically and personally. I know what you want, son. Don’t let your dislike of me blind you to the possibilities,” she implored.

Geoffrey clenched his jaw, the truth in her words irritating. Not that she knew his personal desires…although the realization that maybe she did disturbed him. After all, wasn’t he, in trying so hard not to replicate his father’s role in a marriage, trying to imitate his mother’s instead? The thought made Geoffrey nauseous. While he would never treat a spouse the way his mother had treated his father, wasn’t his refusal to give his love so as not to be the vulnerable one in a marriage in the same league?

No. It couldn’t be. He would never do what his mother had done. She’d been horribly, horribly wrong.

However, she was right in that she’d made stellar choices in her prospective-brides list. More likely than not, he would find the woman who would fulfill all of his needs amongst this group…He’d briefly considered more than one of them when he’d seen them in London. She was also correct in that he’d refused to consider a single one of them while they were under his roof by her invitation.

Perhaps he was letting his relationship with the countess interfere with his own good. Perhaps he should engage one or two of the ladies to see if there was any potential.

His mother smiled suddenly, causing Geoffrey to narrow his eyes. “Ah, Lady Northumb,” she said, reaching an arm out in greeting. Geoffrey turned his head to see the woman and her daughter standing right behind them. At the other matron’s conspiratorial nod, he felt his blood heat. By damn, his mother had expertly maneuvered him around the ballroom and right into the clutches of another matchmaking mama.

“Geoffrey, you remember Lady Northumb and Lady Jane, of course.”

“Of course,” he said, bowing.

“Lord Stratford,” Lady Northumb greeted. “May I say how much we are enjoying your hospitality? Indeed, my husband will be most gratified to discover how excellent a time we’ve had when he arrives on Saturday,” she said. “As will my brother, Christopher Wakefield, who shall be traveling with Lord Northumb. I believe you know my brother, from the Commons?”

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.