Page 2 of An Enchantress for an Earl

The very idea of spending the rest of his life tied to a woman like that, no matter how physically beautiful she might be, revolted him. He would be driven quite, quite mad.

“I see. Much as I do not wish to admit it, that is sensible. I will do my best to do as you wish.”

“Good. You can start by attending Viscount Jamison’s Ball tomorrow, and letting the gossips see that you are a sensible man, who dances politely with young women, does not drink excessively, and does not gamble. Do not, no matter what, go into the card room.”

Arryn sighed, swallowed the rest of the brandy, and gave his father a mocking, flourishing bow.

“As you command.”

>>>

Violet scanned the ballroom, assessing who was present, who she wanted to speak to, and which gentlemen she wanted to avoid. She never had any trouble filling her dance card, and found most Balls entertaining – so long as she did not expect serious conversation.

At Balls, she tried very hard to forget whatever she had been studying most recently, and pretend to simply be just another vapid young woman of the ton. That way, no one remarked on how strange she was, no one gossiped about her, and no one noticed who and what she listened to.

Which meant that she often overheard some truly fascinating things. Beside her, Iris also looked around.

“Violet, do you think that any of our sisters and their husbands will be here?”

“I don’t know for certain – possibly Lily, although now that she is increasing, perhaps not. Hyacinth and Kevin are at Chester Park, and Rose and Evan are visiting them. Camellia and Damien might be here, but Primrose and Gabriel are off in France, I think. We will just have to make do with other conversation.”

“That’s a pity – Lily and Trent always seem to know everything about everyone, which can be terribly useful.”

Violet nodded, her attention on the other side of the room. So far, she knew everyone she had seen – which was not unusual, but was frustrating – she had no interest in any of the men she knew, and if she did not meet any new people, then she was like as not to end as a spinster.

The crowd on the other side of the room shifted as newcomers entered the room, and she studied them, for want of anything better to do. Her eye was caught by the Marquess of Westerhazy – or rather, by the man beside him.

The sinfully handsome man she had only met once, over a year ago.

The man who must be the Earl of Merryfield, the current subject of extensive gossip.

The man who was even more breathtakingly handsome than she remembered him as being.

There were two women with them – one older, who was likely the Marchioness, and a younger one, a woman she had never met, who bore enough likeness to the Earl that it was almost certain that she was his sister. Her hair, like his, was a rich dark brown, with glints of deep red through it.

Iris had apparently noticed where she was looking.

“Oh! Look – that must be him, the Earl. He looks so… respectable… I wonder what he can have done, to offend a Professor so badly as to be sent down? We must arrange an introduction – surely Thorne will know him?”

“Why do you want to be introduced, Iris? Any man who gets himself sent down must be disreputable, and not worth your time.”

“Violet, are you blind? The man is unbelievably handsome. I could swoon on the spot, just looking at him. I do not care if he offended some stuffy old Professor – not when he looks like that!”

Violet forced herself not to grind her teeth – sometimes, Iris was just as vapid as most of the young women of the ton. No amount of handsome could redeem the Earl in her eyes. The opportunity to study was sacred, and not to be thrown away for anything.

“Then you had best wait to swoon until he is close enough to catch you as you fall.”

The sarcasm in her voice was obvious, and her tone sharp. Iris blinked, almost shocked.

“Goodness, Violet, for a moment there, you sounded just like Hyacinth.”

“I do believe that I meant to.”

With that, she turned away and went to her mother, who stood a short distance away chatting to Lady Fotheringhampton. Even listening to gossip was better than watching her sister melt into a puddle at the sight of a handsome man. But when she reached her mother, it was just in time to hear Lady Fotheringhampton speak, in the lowered tones reserved for passing on something salacious.

“Did you hear about Merryfield? It has been suggested to me, by someone who should know the truth of it, that he offended the Professor by stealing away with the man’s mistress! I’m not surprised – a man as handsome as that, in a town with as many… lightskirts… as there are reputed to be in Oxford….”

Violet found her eyes turning to the handsome man across the room. Might what Lady Fotheringhampton said be true? She did not know, but if it was, then all the more reason for her to despise him – to throw away one’s chance to study for the sake of a lightskirt…