“I appreciate your concern, but it is nothing that won’t be fine by morning. Now, go back to your room.”
She stared at him a long moment, a frown pulling at the corners of her lips. And yet she also looked vaguely…relieved. “If you insist, my lord.”
Geoffrey relaxed his stance as he watched her walk away, grateful he’d soon be alone.
Miss Claremont paused beside the bookcase nearest the passageway opening and bent to retrieve something.
His gaze followed her movement. He saw a book, lying open, cover up, on the floor. Oh yes. He’d thought he’d heard a thud right before she’d landed in his arms. As she picked it up, he squinted his eyes to see which volume had so interested Miss Claremont that she’d risked climbing a rolling ladder in the dark to reach it.
He blanched when he realized what she’d chosen. Had she known what she was pulling from the shelf? Alarm clenched his gut. Had she looked inside it yet? God, he hoped not. He should have removed that book years ago. “Miss Claremont,” he barked.
She ignored him, quickening her step.
His lower back throbbed as he limped after her. She reached out to unlock the double doors as if she hadn’t heard him. “Miss Claremont,” he bellowed. “Halt!”
She jerked to a stop, her shoulders stiff. Geoffrey grimaced, regretting his authoritative tone. He stopped beside her. Moonlight washed her face pale and she kept her expression blank and controlled. He was a cad, an ogre even, not to let her escape the library with what dignity she had left after he’d trapped her, kissed her and then so harshly rebuffed her offer of help, but he couldn’t allow her to take his brother’s private volume. She had no business seeing anything it contained.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he held out his hand. Miss Claremont surrendered the book easily, much to Geoffrey’s relief. She wouldn’t look at him, but her hand trembled minutely as she withdrew it. His remaining anger deflated. “Might I assist you in choosing another book?”
She turned her head to him then. Her face was as cool as the sea off Cornwall, yet her eyes blazed purple fire. “No, thank you, my lord,” she said bitingly. “I find I no longer care for your library, or anything in it.” She took a deep breath and swung open the doors. “You shan’t find me here again.” She marched off in the direction of the central hallway.
Geoffrey scowled at her retreating form for a moment, then pulled the doors closed. He limped back to the fireplace, stopping at the tray that held the brandy. He laid his brother’s book on the mantel, grasped the decanter and poured.
He knew from experience that he’d need more than a couple of drinks to dull the pain before he could stretch out his gnarled muscles enough to sleep. He threw back another glass and settled into the wingback chair near the crackling fire.
“You ass,” he said aloud, shaking his head. His behavior had been deplorable. This damned house party had him on edge. Yet he couldn’t deny the thrill he’d felt with her in his arms and at the awareness he’d seen form in her eyes. He breathed in her scent, which still clung to him. What a pleasure it would be to awaken Liliana Claremont’s passion.
Geoffrey caught himself. “Watch out, old boy,” he said, taking another swallow of brandy. That was the pleasure of a husband.
He pictured his mother’s smug face earlier this afternoon when she’d sprung this ordeal upon him, and his fingers tightened around his glass.
What the hell had he been thinking, taking such a chance with Miss Claremont? The countess would have invited women cut from the same cloth as herself. Miss Claremont might have shown compassion because she thought she’d caused his injury, but no doubt on the morrow she would find a way to use his foolish actions to her advantage. Damn.
After several drinks, his pain and guilt receded on a brandied cloud and his mind returned to her. He’d have to apologize, of course. And then he’d determine what the delectable chit’s real intentions were toward him and nip them if he must.
Because he’d hang before he married anyone attending his mother’s bloody little house party.
Chapter Four
L
iliana peeked around the corner of the upstairs family wing, looking to see if any servants still hung about. She saw nothing but the late-morning sun streaming in through the massive mullioned windows.
She’d spent most of her morning looking for another way into Stratford’s study while maids had tidied the family suites and the private parlors. Now she intended to try her luck searching them.
She stifled a yawn. Curse Stratford, she thought for the umpteenth time this morning. Her fatigue could be laid squarely at his arrogant, self-righteous feet. After their little encounter, she’d hardly slept a wink. She tried the first door handle but found it locked.
What a blasted fool she was. How could she blurt her true feelings about not wanting a husband? Stratford had given her the perfect excuse for her presence, both in his library and at Somerton Park, when he’d accused her of setting out to trap him. Why hadn’t she leapt on it?
Liliana released a tight breath as she tried the next door handle to no avail. Because I don’t think well on my feet. She preferred things to go as planned, and when they did not, she needed time to process.
And then she’d gone and drawn more attention to herself because she couldn’t bear to see the man suffering on her account. Yet an entire sleepless night spent evaluating her actions—and his—left her more troubled than resolved. He’d seemed awfully sincere in his belief that she was just one of the many females out to land him. Perhaps he hadn’t connected her to her father. Perhaps he didn’t suspect her true motives at all.
Liliana groaned. If he hadn’t before, he very well might now. Considering their disastrous encounter it had become imperative to avoid him at all costs.
A scuffling sound drew Liliana’s attention. Her muscles tensed and she held her breath, listening. A rhythmic scraping, like slippers on wood, raced up the stairs at a hurried pace. A loud creak sounded from one of the upper steps. Drat—if she were caught again, she’d certainly be exposed!
Liliana shot down the hall, hoping to make it around the corner before a maid or housekeeper emerged. She jerked left into a tiny nook and jiggled the door handles on either side, but neither would give.
Blast. But she wasn’t caught yet. She tucked herself as tightly into the corner as she could manage, praying the servant had no reason to venture this far.
The footsteps persisted, getting closer, and Liliana stopped breathing.
“Psssst.” The harsh whisper sounded familiar. “Lily, are you up here?”
Relief poured through Liliana. “Penelope?” The stricture in her throat eased. She stepped around the corner to see her cousin looking quite out of sorts. A blond ringlet had slipped from Penelope’s normally perfect coiffure, and she struggled to catch her breath from the quick upward flight.
“There you are!” Penelope gasped. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere.” She rushed forward, grasped Liliana’s hand and started tugging her back toward the stairs.
“Why?” Liliana asked, allowing herself to be pulled along. “And where are we going in such a hurry?”