Liliana thought fast. She didn’t want to completely alienate her aunt, who could, after all, make the rest of her stay quite difficult.
“A new stratagem, Aunt,” Liliana whispered. “A theory.”
Her aunt blinked, lips firming. “Not one of your theories.”
“Think about it,” Liliana coaxed, making things up as she went. “I have nothing in the way of fortune or connection—”
“You’re niece to a marquess,” Aunt Eliza huffed.
“By marriage,” Liliana acceded, her tone hushed and conspiratorial. “But other women here are much more highly born. Once Stratford thinks upon it, he’ll see we’re not well matched.”
“So you plan to prove that to him quickly to save him the trouble?” Aunt asked, incredulous.
Amongst other things, yes. “Of course not,” Liliana assured her. “My plan is to prick him a bit, make certain that I’m the girl he can’t forget.” Liliana hoped she sounded reasonable to Aunt. To herself she sounded like a twit. “It’s the only chance I’ve got to distinguish myself from the rest.”
“Foolishness.” Aunt shook her head in disgust. “Only my brother could sire such a headstrong, imprudent girl,” she muttered. She raised herself to her full height, well beneath Liliana’s nose. “I command you to stop this nonsensical behavior and apologize to the earl.”
Anger rose in Liliana’s chest. She’d listened to Aunt Eliza criticize her father most of her life. Besides, she would not apologize for being herself. Well, certainly she’d overplayed it. She wasn’t typically rude, but she did, nearly always, speak her mind. Stratford’s footwork had been deplorable, and holding a horse race when one is clearly more experienced than others was quite unfair. She’d said nothing that wasn’t true.
“I shall not,” Liliana said. “A gentleman such as Stratford has dozens of girls bowing and scraping to him, trying to win his hand. I believe he’s the sort of man who likes a challenge.”
The moment the words left her mouth, Liliana frowned. They made more sense than she’d expected, and she had the strangest feeling they might be true. Heavens. What if her incendiary words had done the equivalent of throwing down a gauntlet? No! That would be disastrous.
Aunt opened her mouth in rebuttal, but Liliana stayed her. “Nevertheless, Aunt, I shall take some bit of your advice,” she appeased. After all, the damage had surely been done. “I shall treat Stratford with the utmost respect and solicitude for the rest of the afternoon.”
Aunt gave her a disgusted look, then retreated into the crowd.
Liliana removed the bouquet from her chair and dropped it atop the other one on the grass beside her. She sat, troubled. Perhaps Stratford did like a challenge, but he couldn’t possibly want her and her sharp tongue anymore, if he ever did.
Her eyes sought Stratford. The third event had been set up. Targets were affixed to old barrels several yards out. Archery perhaps?
She spotted Stratford off to her right, standing with the other gentlemen. They looked to be checking pistols. A shooting competition, then.
Well, at least she wouldn’t be subjected to another display of masculine grace and form. Goodness, it had been near impossible to keep her eyes from Stratford all afternoon. Yes, his footwork had not been up to snuff for a swordsman, but as a man—he was quite the specimen. He exuded strength and purpose. Even now, she noted the concentrated intensity with which he cleaned his weapon. If he turned that intensity upon a woman in the bedroom…
Liliana felt herself blush and snatched up her equation. She couldn’t explain this awful attraction, so she did what she always did. Focused her mind on cold science. Yet this time, it didn’t suffice. After scratching through three mistakes in her formula, she set the paper down.
Stratford was such a contradiction. At first, she’d been certain he was on to her. Yet then he’d surprised her with the thoughtful bouquet of globe thistle. When he’d presented her with it, he’d seemed like a true suitor, anxious for her praise. And he’d deserved it. Not only had he fought well, but she’d seen the pain in his eyes. He’d struggled through and come out the victor. She’d felt rotten insulting him so.
Had he truly just been trying to impress her? A warm sensation flowed through her before she squelched it. It hardly mattered if he had.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to act the proper lady for the rest of the afternoon. If Aunt had noticed her slights, others had as well. That wouldn’t do. Should Stratford win the last event, she’d compliment him. Not effusively, mind you. Just more…nicely. She’d draw no more attention to herself. And then, if it turned out he wasn’t onto her after all, she could slip back into obscurity and complete her search.
The murmuring of the crowd quieted as the men lined up. Liliana sat up straight and fixed her eyes on the field. She would watch this match with interest.
Several feet separated each contestant from his neighbors. Servants stood behind with horns of gunpowder and extra ammunition. Stratford stood nearest to the crowd, giving Liliana a perfect view.
The trumpets sounded and each man raised an arm. Balls shot from twelve pistols with a deafening boom. The yellow-dressed girl gave a little shriek. Liliana rolled her eyes.
She watched Stratford as he meticulously reloaded, pouring his powder precisely. He was close enough that she could see the ripple of muscle on his forearm below his rolled-up sleeve as he took careful aim and pulled the trigger. Another shot exploded from the muzzle.
Again she watched his precision, a trait that she, as a chemist, truly appreciated. Oh yes, concentrated intensity. Her blush returned and she looked away.
After five shots, the men lay down their arms, and servants darted out to retrieve the targets. The targets were taken to a table near the tent, where a panel of judges pored over them before once again declaring Stratford the winner.
This time, Liliana stood and clapped with everyone else. She smiled prettily, waiting to congratulate him.
But the man who stalked toward her with a bouquet held haphazardly upside down in one hand and a target in the other was no sweet suitor. He was fourteen stone of cross male, and he looked to be spoiling for a fight.
“Congratulations—,” Liliana began, but Stratford tossed the bouquet toward her. Not hard, but clearly without care. She caught the lovely bunch of yellow roses and tucked them in the crook of her arm, as if he’d handed them to her gently.
She took a quick step back when the target was thrust into her face.
Five shots clustered very near the bull’s-eye.
Liliana cleared her throat. “Well done, my lord.”
Stratford lowered the target and glared. “Is that all you have to say?”
“Well, yes, I—”
“Because I can assure you, Miss Claremont, most of my shooting experience has been from the back of a moving horse,” Stratford claimed. “With a rifle, not a pistol.”
Liliana didn’t know what to say, so she nodded.
“So my victory meets your ideals of sportsmanship?”
Liliana nodded again, astounded. Her plan had worked better than she’d thought.
“Did my stance meet your approval?” he challenged. “Not leaning too far forward or back?”