How inconvenient that Liliana seemed the sole woman to do that to him. If only he could find a bride just like her, who made him feel the way she did but who was better connected and moved more easily in society.
The countess, seated directly across from Liliana on Geoffrey’s left, snatched a wineglass from the table. His mother had nearly had an apoplexy when he’d announced the amended seating arrangements for tonight’s dinner. Thankfully, she’d stayed mutinously silent, except for the occasional snort as the tale of Liliana’s sugared gunpowder had been retold.
But he could tell by the way Mother gripped her stemware coupled with the calculating gaze she aimed at Liliana that the silence would not last much longer.
“Tell me, Miss Claremont,” Mother asked with deceptive idleness, “was it your father who encouraged your unconventional education?”
A distinct lull in the conversation around them became noticeable as eager ears tilted in their direction.
Liliana’s golden skin went white. Geoffrey clenched his hand into a tight fist.
Liliana’s aunt, Lady Belsham, raised a finger in defense. “Oh, I can assure you that Liliana received an entirely proper education for a young lady.” The woman smiled at Lord Aveline when making her statement, a fact Geoffrey noted with irritation.
Mother slanted a glance at the marchioness and gave a slight twist of the lips. The countess would not be overtly rude to a woman who outranked her. But Lady Belsham had been a baron’s daughter before marrying a marquess. Geoffrey knew Mother considered her own superior bloodline enough of a buffer to excuse a touch of spite.
“I’m certain you made sure of that, as best you could, Lady Belsham,” the countess conceded, but her tone conveyed her doubt that the lessons took. “It must have been a challenge, taking on a girl practically grown and untutored. But who could expect her to be properly trained when she was raised by a bachelor father?”
Damn his mother. Geoffrey had insisted Liliana stay at Somerton Park largely because he knew her reputation would suffer if it appeared she’d been asked to leave. Not her moral reputation, of course, but the gossips would have enjoyed spreading how she’d earned the disapproval of the house of Stratford. Now Mother was making sure the scandalmongers would still have their fodder.
He tossed his napkin aside, ready to put a stop to this.
“Widowed,” Liliana clarified, forestalling him. She eyed his mother with a steely gaze, her jaw firm.
Mother’s feral smile widened, threatening to rip the girl to shreds.
“Ah yes,” Mother said, steepling her fingers and tapping the indexes together. “Your mother passed when you were quite young. A gentleman’s daughter, was she not?”
The pitying glances being tossed Liliana’s way proved that his mother couldn’t have done more damage to the girl had she stood up and screamed, “Unfit to be at this table!”
“Yes, and a gifted healer, one who gave her life helping others,” Liliana countered, “which in my view is the true definition of being a lady.”
The countess laughed, a trill that grated Geoffrey’s nerves. Others within earshot joined in with their own nervous titters. “How very progressive of you, my dear.”
Liliana’s eyes narrowed, but Lady Belsham cringed, looking as if she wished to melt from her chair into a puddle and drip through the floorboards. This had gone far enough.
“I, for one, agree with Miss Claremont,” Geoffrey stated. Several pairs of shocked eyes turned in his direction as he countermanded his mother. He’d hoped to avoid a scene, but he would not allow any more damage to be done. He reached for a cut-crystal wineglass, then stood. “As am I quite impressed with her resourcefulness and quick thinking, two traits I hold in the highest esteem.” He angled his body toward her and raised his glass, looking out over the assemblage with a raised brow until all, save the countess, had followed suit. “To Miss Claremont.”
“To Miss Claremont,” came the response, not heartily, but well enough. He’d done what he could, short of starting a very public war with the countess. Diners returned to their conversations, and he resumed his seat.
Liliana stared at him, her eyes seeming to take his measure. He glimpsed uncertainty in her gaze, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to view him. She gave him a slight nod before turning away to respond to something Aveline said.
Geoffrey took another sip of his wine, aware that others continued to watch him. His words might be seen as defense of a guest, but some would guess at his true feelings. How he detested the pervasive attitude that the more highborn one was, the better class of person. He’d been raised to believe that, as well, but his years in the military had turned his values on end. He’d seen highborn men cut and run while the lowliest common soldier stood bravely until the end, and knew damned well that birth had little to do with one’s character.
Still, something else the military had taught him was to choose one’s battles. Geoffrey regarded his mother from beneath his lids. She fairly seethed. Toying with Mother by squiring Liliana around today had been enjoyable, but since he couldn’t offer for a girl like her, the best thing he could do for Miss Claremont would be to steer clear for the remainder of the party and thus spare her from the countess’ wrath.
Chapter Ten
S
atin slid around Liliana’s calf as she rolled out of a twirl. A sigh escaped her as the rousing cotillion came to an end and her skirts settled back around her ankles. She immediately smiled, hoping Aveline perceived her exhalation to mean she’d enjoyed the dance instead of what it truly meant—that she wished he had stayed home tonight.
After all, it wasn’t his fault the two days since “the Major’s Wager,” as people had taken to calling the shooting match, had left her ready to weep in frustration.
She still hadn’t found a way into the study. Nor was she closer to discovering a link between her father and the late earl. Two days of searching hadn’t even produced so much as a handwriting sample to compare with the killer’s note.
Worse, she still didn’t know what to think about Stratford himself. He’d had his chance to be rid of her, to ensure she found nothing. A guilty man would have taken it. Maybe.
She nearly groaned aloud. It did her no good to speculate about Stratford’s motives, but there was one way she could be sure, once and for all, whether or not he was the author of the letters that lured her father to his death.
She scanned the room, catching Stratford out of the corner of her eye as he escorted Lady Emily Morton from the floor. Hmm. That meant he’d danced with Lady Emily, Jane Northumb, and Ann Manchester so far this evening.
That gave her one-in-three odds.
This would have been much easier had Stratford asked her to dance just once in the past three nights. But he hadn’t hadn’t spoken a word to her since dinner the night of the tournament.
Aveline took her by the elbow. “Shall we stroll for a bit?” he asked, leading her from the parquet dance floor.
She turned to him. “I’d prefer a bit of a rest, actually,” she answered, touching a hand to her face. “Might you fetch me a lemonade?”
She couldn’t very well carry out her aim with him tagging along.