Page 19 of An Enchantress for an Earl

He considered the cluster of quieter young ladies in one corner.

There was always a small group of wallflowers at any event – young women who were not popular, not the prettiest – and he had taken to randomly picking from amongst them to find women to dance with. They were usually flattered that any man had sought them out, but they did not have high expectations that anything more than one dance might come of it. Which suited his purposes perfectly.

He chose a young lady he had never danced with before, and led her out for the next set. She seemed so shocked to have been asked to dance that she was barely capable of speech, for which he was grateful. She was also actually capable of dancing quite well, which was a relief. As the dance ended, and he led her back to her chaperone, a movement across the room caught his eye.

Lady Violet was there, just re-joining her family, another woman beside her. Before he had thought about it, he was moving, abandoning, with barely a word spoken, the young lady he had danced with. Behind Lady Violet, just as he reached her, another man turned away, sharply, the sudden and rather jerky movement catching his eye. But there seemed nothing untoward, and he turned his attention back to Lady Violet, who was regarding him curiously.

“Good evening, Lady Violet. Might I hope that you have this next dance free?”

He almost winced – he had been far too blunt, and he knew it as soon as the words were out. Beside her, her sister regarded him uncertainly. But she smiled, as if he had done nothing untoward.

“You might indeed, Lord Merryfield.”

He offered her his arm, and turned to lead her to the floor, wondering why the sister now looked shocked. But that was unimportant. Now that he had done this, had, yet again, put himself in close proximity to this woman whom he was supposedly trying to avoid, he did not know what to say.

Silence stretched, and they reached the place where couples were assembling in readiness just as the music began.

A waltz… she had granted him a waltz.

He swallowed, and took her into his arms. She lifted her eyes to his, and smiled again. His heart did a most peculiar thing in his chest, and everything except her blue violet eyes seemed to fade away. The silence no longer felt strained, but somehow, more complicit, as if in the quiet space they shared something secret, known only to them.

They began to move, and it was as if he had never danced before, so different was this moment. No effort was required – they flowed, completely and fluidly in tune with each other, as if they had done this a thousand times before. It was the most extraordinary feeling.

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Violet knew that Iris was staring, knew that her sister would have words to say to her later – for she had not had this dance free at all, and now Iris would have to deal with the disappointed Lord Albemarle when he appeared in search of Violet. But she found that she didn’t care. She wanted to dance with Lord Merryfield – wanted this particular dance, because it was a waltz.

When he had appeared before her, just now, she had been faced with a shocking realisation – she was happy to see him. No matter her previous resolutions about him, her determination to regard him as utterly beyond the pale because he had been sent down, it seemed that she had come to care for him, to find him attractive. That moment out on the terrace, when she had realised that it was Merryfield, and his family, that Villeham threatened, when her heart had responded with a sharp pang of anguish, had forced her to face her feelings. She had been deluding herself.

The dance began, and the silence between them remained, but now, it felt different. Did he feel the difference in her? Why did she care about him? How could she care for a man who had allowed himself to be sent down? And how could this man – who was studying still, who bought serious books at Bigglesworth’s, and who never went near a card room, be the man who was whispered about as a disreputable philanderer?

“Lord Merryfield…” he stiffened slightly, but only for the barest moment, as if words somehow intruded, but then he relaxed again, and smiled. That smile was enough, on his handsome face, to make her feel quite dazzled. She went on, and found herself asking, very forwardly, the question which had plagued her. “Forgive me my impertinence, but I feel compelled to ask you – what did you really do, to get sent down? There are a dozen rumours, but…”

She was sure that she had gone too far, that he would reprimand her and refuse to answer – as he had the right to do, and as she would expect any man of the ton to do. They swirled on, and a wry smile crossed his face. Would this be the last time she would ever dance with him like this? Had her curiosity just cost her something which she had only now realised she wanted?

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Arryn was startled when she spoke, for he had become lost in the dreamlike feeling of dancing with her. He smiled, amused at himself. A flicker of emotion crossed her face, and she went on, her words utterly unexpected. Yet again, she behaved in a manner which he did not expect from young women of the ton.

Part of him was tempted to laugh, part to brush the question aside, but the far greater part of him wanted to give her the truth. After a few moments of silence, her expression became worried, as if his response to her very forward question actually mattered to her. Certainly, it wasn’t the sort of thing most people would say, to simply make polite conversation.

“Do you know, you are the only one who’s had the courage to ask?”

Her expression steadied, and those beautiful eyes brightened.

“I am? I know that it is beyond forward of me, but… I simply have to know. For the way you behave, and the things that you speak of – none of that aligns with the picture painted of you by rumours. And I prefer truth to supposition.”

“I must agree with you there. I will give you truth, in return for your courage, although I do not know what you will think of me when I tell you.”

“That you are a rare man who speaks more than empty platitudes to women?”

The dance spun them around, and he was not sure in that moment if his dizziness came from that, or the manner in which she had, yet again, utterly destabilised his ordered world.

“An interesting perspective. I do believe that to be interpretable as a compliment. But the answer to your question. To put it bluntly – I told a Professor that he was wrong. I could not bear to hear him teaching things which were outright falsehoods. I had all of the research, all of the information to support my position, yet he would not listen, would not accept that I had any right to question his knowledge. Truth did not matter, only his authority.”

Arryn knew, as he said it, that his tone was bitter. What would she think? Probably that he was a fool, and should have respected the pompous old termagant. None but his close family had ever truly grasped just how impossible it was for Arryn to allow things to be incorrect, or out of place.

“But… he was teaching falsehoods? That is horrifying! The opportunity to learn, to study, is a thing to be treasured, and for a man charged with providing that learning to students to so betray its purpose… How can he consider himself a true scholar, if he would not consider your evidence, your reasoning for your position?”