Page 5 of An Enchantress for an Earl

The warmth of her hand on his arm somehow seemed to spread through him, and he discovered that, for the first time in his life, he regretted the dance ending. She confused him, and fascinated him, and, horrifyingly, he wanted to know more of her.

He did not like being confused, did not like having the neat structure of how the world worked tipped awry – which was exactly what she had done, for no other woman he had ever spoken to had presented even the faintest appearance of wishing to understand what was happening in the world, beyond the things with an immediate and direct effect on them. Even his mother and sister conformed to that pattern – and he acknowledged that they were both quite intelligent people.

Perhaps, in future, it would be best if he avoided Lady Violet Gardenbrook, and her very disturbing conversation.

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Violet watched him walk away. He had delivered her back to her brother and her mother where they stood on one side of the room, spoken to her brother for a short while, and then left them. She was almost certain that he was glad to escape their company – which offended her a little. But that was silly – she had not wanted his company in the first place, so why she should feel any distress at his removing himself, she did not know.

The evening went on, and she danced with various gentlemen, but she frequently found her eyes drifting, without conscious intent, in the direction of Lord Merryfield. He danced with a selection of young ladies, and appeared in all ways to be an ordinary man of the ton – despite the rumours to the contrary.

It was a puzzle, one which wore away at the back of Violet’s thoughts, until, as she settled into the carriage for the ride home, it struck her – his behaviour made no sense not only because he appeared well behaved and considerate, not paying inappropriate attention to any woman, but also because of what he had said to her.

At the time, she had been so focussed on her annoyance at being informed that ladies had no interest in the matters of the world, that she had not considered his words any further. But now, they came back to her. He had said that he was preoccupied because he had spent the day studying matters of law, and was still considering those matters. He had been studying!

Why would a man so irresponsible as to get himself sent down from Oxford be bothering to study at all, now that it could make no difference to him for a year or more, if indeed, he was ever even considered for readmittance?

It definitely made no sense at all.

And, most annoyingly, it made her want to know why, made her want to understand him.

She pushed that thought aside, and shut her eyes, determined to think no more of him. But despite that intention, he haunted not only her thoughts as they reached home, but her dreams that night as well.

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Though it was late, Arryn accepted his father’s offer of a brandy in the study, even knowing it likely came with conversation.

Balls, he had concluded, were far more mentally taxing than studying. He took the glass and dropped into a chair as his father took the one opposite him, and stared at the fire in the grate, glad of its warmth. It was October, and the evenings were decidedly cold.

The silence settled between them, not entirely comfortable, and Arryn waited, knowing that his father would have something to say. No doubt he was considering his choice of words. At that thought, Arryn almost laughed – for the only reason his father would so consider his words was to ensure that he gave Arryn nothing to argue with him on.

“You did well this evening. Perhaps that will begin to allay the gossip. God knows who invents some of the drivel they whisper – but wherever it comes from, I cannot afford to allow it to continue. We are so close to good progress on the matter of deciding which anti forgery techniques we will require the Bank of England to implement – I cannot risk anything giving the House of Lords, or the Prince Regent, doubts about the decisions of my committee. And whispers about you being a man who is poor of judgement, profligate with money, and enthused by debauchery do not do my credibility any good at all.”

Arryn swallowed some brandy in a rather larger gulp than he had intended, his father’s words hitting hard.

“I… I am sorry, Father, I care as much as you to see this rampant forgery stopped, and the stability of the country’s currency restored. I will do my best, despite loathing everything about occasions like this evening. I would far rather have been here, continuing my research into the different anti tampering methods, so that you might make use of what I learn.”

His father sighed, staring into the distance, then spoke almost gently.

“I know that you would. Why, oh why, could you not have simply allowed your professor his outdated opinions? Why could you not have forced yourself to silence for another three months?”

Arryn looked up, meeting the stern gaze of his grandfather from the portrait above the mantel. His grandfather who, he had been told by his great aunt, had been just like him – unable to allow things to pass, when he knew that they were wrong, unable to allow his world to be in any kind of disarray.

“You know that I could not, Father. Professor Whimpferhim is a stubborn old fool. That he was speaking patent untruths is one thing, but that he was teaching those untruths to students was what forced me to speak. He, like so many others, sees the monetary situation that we are now in as a direct result of the decoupling of paper money from gold reserves. He ignores the impact of the wars, the necessity for change, and the changes being made again, now, to restore that balance, that association of scrip to specie, which must happen. He cannot see that paper money has any place in the world, going forward, and rants about that, rather than consider any new options. He ignores every law passed into being since 1797! And when I tried to discuss such matters with him, he decried me as ‘speaking sedition, like that devil Cobbett’. The man is irredeemable.”

His father met Arryn’s eyes, and shook his head.

“I wish you’d just let him ramble, and got that degree, because then you could have helped me prove that, and helped the committee get the forgery prevention methods approved. Now, they wouldn’t listen to you, because you’ve proven yourself to have no respect for the ‘authorities’ on the matter. The reality of the man’s knowledge is irrelevant – he has power and influence – he’s a cousin to three Dukes, for God’s sake. But we will overcome this – you’ll just have to keep being of exemplary behaviour, everywhere.”

“I will, as I said, do my best – but please, do not drive me too hard, lest I break, and say what I think to someone. I will do as much research as I can, and you can claim to have done that investigation yourself. I will attend social events, and smile and speak to simpering young women with no thought of anything important, and I will attempt to convince the doyennes of the ton that I am not disreputable. It is, I am afraid, the speaking to young ladies which tries me most.”

His father eyed him sadly.

“Trying or not, it must be done. And, as I would hope one day to have grandchildren, I must pray that you do find at least one young lady whom you can converse with well enough to marry. For certainly, you marrying would go a long way to convincing the gossips that you are, in truth, respectable.”

Arryn nearly dropped the brandy glass. His father couldn’t be serious – could he? Marry one of them? The idea sent a shudder of horror down his spine. None of them had a thought in their head.

Except perhaps, Lady Violet Gardenbrook.