Sweet Enemy (47 page)

“Let’s have a look.” Liverpool’s words drew his attention back to the task at hand. Still, as much as Geoffrey wanted to see what the bundle contained, he was more anxious to have this over with so he could get Liliana alone and figure out what troubled her.

Liliana brought the treasure over to the spindly table Geoffrey and Aveline had dragged near the fireplace as an impromptu staging area and placed it in the center. He and the other men gathered round, and only then did Liliana lift her gaze to him. He knew what she was asking. He gave her a nod.

Her capable hands trembled only a little as she untied the rope and unfolded the fabric. The treasure appeared to also be wrapped in protective leather, which Liliana deftly disposed of.

Geoffrey leaned forward, not breathing as a flash of green caught his eye.

Liliana lifted the corselet, slowly unfolding the
golden…
garment
, he supposed would be the appropriate word. Maybe
vest
—if one could use such a word to describe something of such splendor.

“Good God.” That from Wellington, who’d seen much in his days but certainly nothing like this.

The others, Geoffrey himself included, seemed at a loss for words as Liliana lifted the magnificent piece of royal jewelry. Gold chain strung together dozens of square emeralds as a collar, glittering in the firelight. Another cluster of hundreds of the green gems joined together in a band, nearly the width of a Hindi cummerbund, which would circle the wearer and was attached to the collar by gold chain mail. And strung at the chest and back were two of the largest square-cut emeralds Geoffrey could even imagine, much less had ever seen.

“This could only have belonged to a queen,” Liverpool murmured.

“I remember my father saying that Cleopatra prized emeralds over all other stones and was responsible for bringing the gem to such fashion in the world,” Geoffrey remarked. “It must have belonged to her.”

“I can’t even begin to fathom its worth,” said Aveline.

Geoffrey couldn’t, either, but he could see why his uncle had wanted it so badly. Even if the man had never touched the larger stones, the hundreds of smaller ones could have been sold off and kept him well for years to come.

“Whatever its value, it’s not that of three men’s lives,” Liliana said, tears glistening in her eyes even as she held the corselet reverently.

Geoffrey turned the Bramah lock on the parlor safe in his study, securing the corselet until Liliana decided what she wanted to do with it. He slanted his eyes to her now, where she paced in front of his desk. The others had long departed, claiming reports to write and such. He’d been glad to see them go, but now that he had Liliana alone, fear kept him from asking her what was truly
in her heart. Instead, he asked the easy question. “Have you any idea what you’d like to do with the corselet?”

She stopped and looked up, seemingly startled by his voice. Her eyes strayed to the safe and her brows dipped, giving Geoffrey the impression that the treasure was the furthest thing from her mind. Which led him to think that her troubled expression did, indeed, have something to do with him. His throat tightened.

“I can’t keep it,” she said. Despite her protests, the consensus of the men was that the treasure should belong to her. Aveline reported that Triste had no heirs, and Liverpool decreed that since Triste had given the corselet over to Liliana’s father, it should by rights go to his daughter. He only asked that Liliana be discreet, should questions arise.

Geoffrey considered urging Liliana to take to her bed, to get some rest and look at things with fresh eyes tomorrow. But he knew that wasn’t in her nature, and besides, the idea of passing the night not knowing what Liliana was thinking made him shudder. He couldn’t risk waking up in the morning only to find she’d run off again.

“You could sell it, I suppose,” he said. “I’m certain your father would have liked for you to have the security that kind of wealth would offer.” But the conversation felt lame upon his tongue. It was time he quit acting the coward and broach the subject that really mattered. “Of course, you have no need of any more security than you’ll have as my wife.”

Liliana looked down, almost as if in shame, and something inside Geoffrey withered.

“I will not be your wife.”

Even though he’d known in his gut that was what she’d say, her words still pierced him. “I know today’s revelations have been a shock,” he said, not even minding the desperation in his voice. Good God, he’d nearly lost her before his very eyes today, and just that glimpse had shown him he couldn’t bear not having her in his life.
“But, Liliana, please, given some time I pray you can forgive my unfortunate family connection—”

“It’s not that, Geoffrey.” She tilted her head. “Do you think I would hold you responsible for your uncle’s actions?”

Panic squeezed his chest. If that wasn’t the reason…“Then why?”

Liliana’s face crumpled and she turned away from him, taking with her his very heart. “Do you know why I convinced your uncle to take me to the folly today?”

Geoffrey gave a slow shake of his head, as sound would simply not squeeze past the constriction in his throat.

“Because I knew that was my best chance to be rescued. I knew once you discovered I was gone you would immediately assume I’d betrayed you again and doubled back to get those letters.” Everything in her posture, from the defensive way she wrapped her arms around her torso to how she slunk back from him, cried out her hurt.

Geoffrey closed his eyes so she wouldn’t see his shame.

“There can never be love without trust, Geoffrey, and you don’t trust me.” Her voice broke. “Therefore, you will never love me.” He heard a rustle of fabric and then her hand slipped into his, and she gave him a gentle squeeze.

He opened his eyes, staring down into shimmering violet pools.

“And life is too short to live without love,” she said. “For both of us.” She sighed, and a watery smile crossed her face. “I never knew I wanted love in my life until I met you. And I thank you for teaching me that.” She took a shuddering breath. “And I’m sorry I lied to you. My intention was never to hurt you, but I did and I was wrong. You deserve better.”

Liliana let go of his hand. “I hope one day, a woman comes along who earns your trust
and
your love.” She moved to walk away from him.

Geoffrey couldn’t catch his breath. He couldn’t just let her leave.

He dropped to his knees, snagging her hand as she brushed by.

She stopped and turned her head, doubt and hope mingling in her face.

And that hope gave him hope. Dear God,
she did love him
, he knew it. And yet she was just as certain he didn’t love her. Simple words of love would never suffice after the things he’d said to her. What
could
he say to make her believe him?

“I lied to you, too,” he said.

The corners of her kissable lips turned down in confusion.

“When I told you that love didn’t matter.” Geoffrey knew that nothing short of baring himself to Liliana would make her understand, would make her trust his love. He swallowed the emotion clogging his throat, desperate for his words to come through strong and clear. “When I told you that I’d never love you—that I didn’t love you—it wasn’t true.” He drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t
want
to love you, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Liliana didn’t move, only stared, her eyes glassy and disbelieving.

“I told myself you were selfish and manipulative like my mother, but I could feel regret radiating off of you. My mother doesn’t have a remorseful bone in her body. I was a fool to think you were anything like her,” he murmured. “Some things can be faked, but not the core part of a person, not who they are underneath. And your intelligence, your spirit, your passion for the well-being of others—all of the things I
love
about you—I knew to be real. But in my anger and my hurt, I didn’t want to see it.”

Geoffrey reached out and took her other hand, and his hopes leapt at her tight grip, as if at least some part of her didn’t want to let him go. If he could convince her
of the truth of his feelings for her, maybe she wouldn’t feel she had to.

“Later in life, my father admitted he’d known who the countess was on the inside. He’d just foolishly hoped his love could change her. But I don’t want to change anything about you. Certainly, I’d like to change the circumstances that brought us together. I wish you hadn’t felt the need to lie to me, but I understand why you did. And I forgive you.”

A tremble ran through Liliana, and a single tear slipped from her eye, but she didn’t release her grip on his hands. “You say you love me, but by you going immediately to the folly, your actions show me differently. There can be no love without—”

“Trust?” He blew out a breath, knowing he was on shaky ground. “I won’t lie—the thought did cross my mind. So much has happened in the past few days, so many pillars of my life upended. But I think you’ve got it backward. With love, there can be trust. It will grow. It’s already started.”

She said nothing.

Geoffrey’s chest squeezed. Had he been too late in declaring his feelings? Had he lost her?

He pulled her hands to his lips, brushing her petal-soft skin against his mouth. “Dear God, Liliana,” he whispered, “I love you so much.” His voice caught, as if it alone understood that by admitting his love, his vulnerability, she could use it to push him around like so many pieces on a chessboard. But he no longer cared. It was more important to show her that he trusted her to do with his love as she pleased. “I
love
you. And I’m sorry, more than I can say. Please, forgive me. Marry me.” A hot tear slipped down his cheek. “Love me.”

And he gave her a little tug. Nothing that would upend her if she didn’t wish to come, but enough to let her know that she was wanted, needed. Another tear followed the first when she dropped to her knees along with him.

“I do,” she whispered. “Oh, Geoffrey, I do.”

He moaned, clasping her to him with all of his strength. A part of him registered that she held him equally tight. “Liliana,” he said, pulling back so that he could see her eyes, but he couldn’t long resist the need to kiss her, nor to run his hands over her hair, her face, anywhere he could touch to assure himself she was real, was here, had chosen to stay with him. She tasted of apples and honey and salty tears…and of happiness and promise and love.

Her tongue delved past his lips and desire flooded him, raging through his body nearly as fiercely as his love. Yet he reined it in. After the events of the day, Liliana must be exhausted. And they had their whole lives…“Sweet, you need your rest—”

His bold little scientist cut him off with a voracious kiss of her own, her hand trailing down his stomach and caressing him. “I need you more than I need rest,” she said, breaking her kiss. “I need this—to make love with you knowing that there is nothing between us. No lies, no secrets, just need.”

“Just need,” he whispered. Dear God, there was that. He let his reins go, setting his hands free to roam over her. His lips trailed to her cheek, which had flushed with heat. He could feel her excitement, smell it radiating from her skin, and it spurred his own.

“One day,” he gasped, pulling at her skirts as her own hands tore at the fall of his trousers, “I’d like to actually make love to you in a bed.”

Her throaty chuckle sent a shiver racing down his spine, and the touch of her hand on his bare cock sent it racing back up again. He shifted from his knees to a sitting position, spreading Liliana across his lap.

“Don’t you think a bed would be rather conventional for your lady chemist wife?” she teased.

Geoffrey’s only answer was a harsh groan as he slid inside her wet heat. He held her tight to him, fully seated, fully surrounded by her for as long as he could stand it.
Then he lifted her hips and started the rhythm he knew would bring them both to fiery completion.

“My lady chemist wife,” he said when he could breathe, and hugged her tighter to him. Liliana certainly filled his life with chemistry of the very best kind.

And he would do his very best to fill hers with love.

June 16, 1817

“Q

Liliana pushed at him. “Not in front of all of these people,” she whispered, blushing to the roots of her chestnut locks, which glowed with the sheen of impending motherhood. Or happiness. He liked to think both. “What if someone should guess?”

He chuckled, moving his hands away from her middle. He knew she intended to keep her condition secret for a few weeks longer—at least until after they traveled to Penelope’s surprise wedding.

Just this morning, Liliana had been by his side as the Poor Employment Act of 1817 was signed into law and commissioners were appointed who had the authority to loan money for up to three years to those who could demonstrate they would use it to create employment opportunities.