“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.
He presented Lady Jane to her mother. “Not only are you an accomplished musician,” he said, refraining from kissing Jane’s hand, “but a superb dancer, as well. Thank you for the pleasure.”
He nodded, then turned on his heel and departed, making straightaway for Liliana. He didn’t need to look back to see his mother’s face. He knew she’d be furious.
He cared not. On the surface, Liliana Claremont was absolutely wrong for him. But underneath, he was beginning to think she might be absolutely right. No, she’d never be the political hostess he’d need, but she could be a partner. A real partner. She and her passions made him feel alive. Her life’s work, as she put it, complemented his own and was inspiring in and of itself. They could accomplish much together. At least he knew that he could trust her. And if love did develop with a woman like that, would it be so awful? He didn’t know.
But there was only one way to find out, and as the strategy formed in his mind, it seemed the perfect way to thwart his mother’s plans while advancing his own.
He’d have to phrase things delicately. Liliana had made it clear she had no plans to marry, but what he had in mind could hurt her chances should she change her mind. Nor did she seem to be fond of others’ scrutiny, which his attentions to her would quite guarantee. On the other hand, Liliana was rather unconventional and most decidedly had her own mind. She may very well be open to his idea.
He certainly hoped so, as he wanted to get to know her a whole lot better, starting right this moment.
* * *
“Might I tempt you to join me in the Allemande, Liliana?” Geoffrey asked, bowing before her.
Liliana took a deep breath and gave him her most welcoming smile, though inside she was all aflutter. He’d noticed her the moment she’d entered the ballroom. She’d felt his gaze like a living thing, and whatever heat had caused his cobalt eyes to burn had warmed her blood until it tingled in her veins.
“The Allemande?” She placed her hand over her chest. If memory served, that particular dance wasn’t too vigorous. She shouldn’t have to worry about coming out of the top of her very fashionable bodice. “I think that should be safe,” she muttered.
Geoffrey’s lips curved up in smile.
He led her across the ballroom with its damask-covered walls and high ceilings. The multiple arched windows were open and covered in a gauzy material that floated with the light breeze. Liliana gave silent thanks for the cool night air, for it seemed that when she put her arm on Geoffrey’s, the temperature in the room spiked.
As they passed by the countess, a chill broke through Liliana’s flush and skittered down her back. Liliana nodded a greeting. Lady Stratford’s face remained cool, as usual, but her eyes flashed hostility. Liliana couldn’t contain the involuntary shiver.
As she and Geoffrey took their places facing each other at the end of the row of dancers, Geoffrey said, “I’m sorry about Mother. I’m afraid she’s not happy that I’ve chosen you to partner over her selection.”
“Is that why she’s taken a dislike to me?” Liliana asked, as casually as she could manage. Lady Stratford would certainly prefer that Geoffrey spend his time with Lady Jane rather than with her, but was that the true reason she’d been so cold to Liliana from the moment they’d first met?
Witherspoon’s story had shaken Liliana, throwing her thoughts into a jumble. Could the countess have been the cause of her husband’s death? And if so, what, if anything, could that have to do with Papa’s murder?