Sweet Enemy




“The letters in French and the ones from your father were together,” Liliana said, interrupting his thoughts. “The others, the ones from my own father, I found here.”

Geoffrey glanced at the third packet but untied the ribbon around his father’s notes and skimmed through them instead, trying to ascertain what could possibly be fodder for a blackmailer. Yet, the letters spoke of nothing in particular, just paragraphs of narrative that made no sense. What was their importance and why had Liliana’s father possessed them? “These letters are completely innocuous,” Geoffrey said.

“Yes,” Liliana acknowledged. She came forward hesitantly and her clean scent tantalized his nose. Despite the situation, desire rose in him and he found it a challenge to focus on her words. “You’ll find the ones from my father match in tone and content. The ones in French are devoid of real meaning as well, appearing to be nothing of consequence.”

“Yet you believe otherwise. Why?” The question floated from his mouth, an automatic reply that sounded odd and hollow to his ears. It was the proper question, the appropriate response in this conversation, and yet Geoffrey couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the topic at all. Only moments ago, he’d been making love with this woman, had actually asked her to marry him, and now he was calmly asking why she thought his father had killed her own and trying to ascertain how much of a threat she might be to his future.

She sat on the chaise beside him, as tentative as a bird ready to take wing at the first sign of danger, yet the look in her eyes almost begged for something. Forgiveness? Understanding?

Geoffrey did his best to shield himself from the pain threatening to skewer him.

“The fact that both of our fathers not only kept the letters but secreted them away, for one,” she said.

Geoffrey nodded. He’d come to the same conclusion, but he wanted to hear her thoughts. He couldn’t think about all of the implications now, yet a dull throbbing ache filled his chest. Liliana might be duplicitous and cunning, but she was also a brilliant woman. He’d be a fool to discount whatever theories she might have, but he’d need to use caution. He’d give her nothing until he sorted out this situation himself. Alone.

How it hurt to realize he was the only person he could trust after all.

“But also because of this.” Liliana reached into the box and drew out another paper and unfolded it. Her arm brushed against his in the process, and the ache he felt intensified.

Liliana held the paper where he could see it, too. Her efficient handwriting had marked several letters in different succession, with interspersed blanks, almost as if she were trying to break a code. He raised his eyes to hers.

“You believe there’s a code?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. In the months before my father was killed, he grew obsessed with codes. Since it was just he and I, he usually included me in whatever he was working on, and this was no different. He began to leave me notes in code all of the time. Now I can see it was likely a way to keep me distracted and out from underfoot while he…” A frown crumpled her features before she cleared her throat. “He would shift the alphabet, matching the letter A to a letter of his choice.”

A Caesar shift. Geoffrey was familiar with the common cipher, once used by the Roman army, but it wasn’t very sophisticated. It could be broken easily, which was why it was rarely used anymore.

“And I would try various patterns until I found the one that deciphered his message.” A sad smile flitted across her face. “He said it taught me to use my mind and to learn persistence.”

It seemed she’d learned that lesson well, since she’d been searching since she’d arrived at Somerton Park— A sick feeling grabbed him. Had her persistence led her to pursue him so that she could glean information when she’d run out of clues?

Liliana sighed. “But I’ve tried all twenty-six variations to no avail,” she said, confirming the worst of it.

Geoffrey’s anger burst through the dam he’d hastily erected at her very first accusation. That’s why she’d finally brought this to him. Because she could go no further on her own and she needed his help.

The realizations he’d been trying to hold back came rushing through the breach. Liliana had been deceiving him from the first moment they’d met. She had been rifling through his library when he’d accused her of trying to trap him into marriage. He thought back to how she’d tried to avoid him in the days that had followed. It made sense, now that he knew she’d been sneaking behind his back from the very beginning.

Had she learned his habit of morning rides and arranged their meeting in the meadow? Damn it all. And he’d fallen for it like a fool, telling himself she was different. What else had she manipulated? Pain burst within him, stealing his breath, but he couldn’t let her see. He couldn’t think about the breadth of her betrayal right now.

Geoffrey forced calm. He had to focus on the problem at hand. A code. A Caesar shift. What could he remember about those? There had to be a key. Yes, to make a Caesar shift more difficult to crack, the parties would often choose a specific word. They’d start the alphabet with that word, skipping any letters already used, until the key was spelled out. Then it was only a matter of filling in the rest. Without the key, the code would be nearly impossible to break.

But both men who might know the key had been dead for fourteen years.

He looked back at the box, his eyes drawn to the third packet, the letters from Liliana’s father. “You said you found your father’s letters here at Somerton Park? Where?” Father had always been a bit absentminded. He would have likely stored the letters in a place that would remind him of the key.

Liliana’s entire body seemed to lower. Her shoulders drooped, her head dropped, her eyes fell. “Amongst your father’s stored things in the family wing.”

“How the hell did you—” It hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. She’d used the secret passage. And he’d given her the access himself so as to preserve her reputation during their trysts. Bile rose in Geoffrey’s throat. Everything had been a lie. Every sweet kiss, every stolen moment a scheme to find what she was after.

His skin crawled as he thought of how he’d felt moments ago, when she’d sweetly given herself to him. How his heart had swelled with joy, when all she was doing was using him. And her declaration of love, her tears of remorse. Weren’t they just another ploy to win his sympathies when she was forced to come to him for help?

He wanted to hurl the accusation at her feet, but he couldn’t. Not until he got what he needed from her.

“Where specifically?” he asked, glad his voice remained calm while his insides were raging. “Were they hidden inside anything?”

Liliana nodded, her expression sad and open. Geoffrey could hardly stand to look at her, but he held her gaze. “Yes. They were in a book safe.”

“Did the book have a title?”

The corners of Liliana’s eyes turned down and tiny lines formed around her mouth. “It was a biography of Marc Antony,” she said. “Why?”

Geoffrey made his face as blank as an erased school board. His father had always been fascinated by history and antiquity, particularly Egypt—which had naturally led to an interest in Antony, who was so wrapped up in both. Geoffrey had never cared for the Roman general, whom he’d thought weak for letting a woman completely ruin his life.