Her eyes sparked, sending embers sizzling through his chest. The flame she’d roused when he’d met her earlier this evening flared back to life. He squelched it.
Geoffrey raised a brow, waiting to see what excuse she would give.
Miss Claremont took a deep breath and stiffly lowered her hand to her side. Her pouty lips opened, then snapped closed and firmed. Geoffrey thought he could actually see her mind working through the accusation he’d leveled at her.
He watched this transformation from accused innocent to affronted angel with fascination. God, she was exquisite—for a conniving little actress.
“I beg your pardon?” Her husky voice sounded purposefully controlled.
“As well you should,” Geoffrey snapped. “I thought the chit who tried to corner me on the terrace tonight had nerve.” He shook his head. “Not as much as the industrious mother-daughter pair who staked out the hallway to my chambers, however.” He glared at Miss Claremont, taking in her dark attire. “But at least they didn’t skulk around in shadow waiting to pounce.”
“I am not skulking,” she retorted, her voice high.
“No?” Determined to shed more light on this absurd situation, he snatched a spill from the jar above the mantel, lit it from a sconce, then lit the fire. Satisfied, he faced her.
Her violet eyes still glared at him from her flushed face. Heat streaked through him once more. She was even lovelier in the increased light. The wisps of chestnut hair near her brow had dampened into clinging curls. He remembered how she’d looked a moment ago, when he’d held her close. It was easy to imagine how she’d look in the throes of passion. Too damned easy.
Geoffrey snorted. Probably what the little minx was counting on. “It is common knowledge amongst the staff that I frequent the library at night.” He suppressed the need to rub his lower back and instead waved his hand in an irritated swipe. “It would be nothing for an enterprising young miss to ferret out that information and use it to her advantage.”
And nothing for me to fall for it, as his quickening blood would attest.
Damn his mother for inviting all of these title-chasing vixens here.
Ever since he’d inherited the bloody title, women threw themselves at him shamelessly. While some men might relish the attention, Geoffrey couldn’t. He knew it wasn’t him they wanted. For once, he’d like to meet a girl who wanted Geoffrey, not the Earl of Stratford.
Instead, he was always on guard. He’d already thwarted two husband hunters tonight. Third time’s a charm…His eyes widened as a sick dread grabbed him.
“I presume your aunt is ‘conveniently’ posted outside?” He stalked to the entrance, ignoring Miss Claremont’s gasp, and wrenched the doors open, determined to set Lady Belsham straight before sending her and her intrepid charges packing, lateness of the hour be damned.
Relief washed through him at the empty hallway, mingled with an odd sense of deflation. He closed his eyes briefly, then turned on his heel and marched back into the library, careful to leave the doors open.
“You couldn’t be more mistaken.” Miss Claremont’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “I did not come here tonight hoping to find you, and my aunt is most definitely not lurking in the hallway. Contrary to what you and she might think, not every woman’s world revolves around catching a man.”
Her words hung between them. Geoffrey furrowed his brow. What was her game? “Then why are you here?”
Her eyes darted around. “I…I couldn’t sleep, so I thought to borrow a book.”
“I don’t mean tonight,” Geoffrey clarified. “I meant, if you didn’t come to this party in hopes of snagging a suitor like every other female in this house, why are you here?”
Miss Claremont looked discomfited by his direct question. Geoffrey didn’t care. He believed in getting to the point. Life was too short to prevaricate.
He let the silence draw out—a tactic he’d always found useful. He’d learned long ago that most people were uncomfortable with silence. To fill it, they’d blurt out the most revealing things without thinking.
It surprised him how much he wanted to hear what she’d say.
Her pearl white teeth tugged at her lower lip as she scrambled for an explanation. That she didn’t have one cemented his suspicions. Naive girl. Any good husband hunter would know to at least bring a witness.
“My cousin desired a companion,” she offered finally, with a shrug. “As I thought a jaunt to the country would be ideal, I decided to join her. I understand Somerton Park’s gardens are lovely.”
He smiled. “They are,” he acceded, all politeness, as if her excuses weren’t a desperate attempt to salvage the situation. “The woodland and lakes are also spectacular. I do hope you find time to explore whilst you are here.”
Her smile faded. “I will.”
Geoffrey shook his head. She had to realize he didn’t believe a word.
Not want a husband, indeed. What woman didn’t? His eyes traveled over her burnished curls, which glinted in the dim firelight, taking in her pixielike face. He held her gaze for a moment before moving to her lush lips, her slender neck. He imagined he could see her pulse beating strongly in its delicate hollow. The dark dress she wore concealed ample curves, but his body tingled as he remembered the feel of her. Miss Claremont should have no trouble finding a husband, beautiful as she was. No man in his right mind would turn her out of his bed.
Just the thought of her in his bed made Geoffrey’s loins tighten.
“Surely you can understand my mistake,” he said, hoping his emphasis conveyed his doubt. “I wasn’t expecting to encounter anyone here.”
On the contrary, he’d wanted to escape the snares of the determined ladies who already hounded him. He’d also planned to go over Somerton Park’s accounts again. Frustration had been gnawing at him for weeks. He knew he was missing something in the complicated mess that was the Wentworth finances, and he was anxious to get it sorted. Particularly if the discrepancies he’d noticed might be related to the blackmail threat he’d received last week.
Yet a different frustration swirled around him now, growing with each moment in Miss Claremont’s presence.
“Nor was I, my lord,” Miss Claremont said, bringing his attention back to her. A delicate pink stained her cheeks, though it could as easily be from irritation as from embarrassment. “And while I suspect it was you who knocked me from my perch,” she said, glancing pointedly at the bookshelf, which now stood open to reveal the hidden passageway from which he’d entered, “I suppose I must thank you for your timely rescue, nonetheless.” She raised a chestnut brow.
He’d be damned if for a brief moment he didn’t feel badly for deigning to enter his own library. Geoffrey tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. She wouldn’t turn this around on him so easily. He’d had enough of being manipulated for one day and more than enough of calculating women. Left unchecked, Miss Claremont would likely grow as devious as his mother. Unless someone dissuaded her from that path, showed her she could not play games without consequence.
“I wouldn’t offer thanks yet,” he murmured. Miss Claremont’s haughty expression slipped as he moved to the open doors of the library. Yes. Enlightening Miss Claremont would be a service to unsuspecting men everywhere, and besides, something about the woman tempted him fiercely. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to taste her.