Page 25 of An Enchantress for an Earl

Still, he should speak.

“Have you been well, Lady Violet?”

She looked up, and met his eyes, hers full of emotion of some sort, which left him feeling confused again, and yet not unpleasant. Then she smiled.

“I have. I am not prone to illness, for which I am grateful.”

The words were appropriate, yet he felt as if there was something beyond them, something which belied them in some way, which she would not admit. The dance moved them apart for a short while, and he could not help but admire her elegance as she moved.

They came back together, and she raised her face to his. For a moment, the urge was there, as it had been that day in the bookshop, to bend and kiss her. It shocked him, that he should feel so, but he could not deny the fact that he did.

“Lady Violet… do you not find all of this… and the gossip which goes with it… tiring at times?”

How did she cause him to speak such things? Somehow, with her, he uttered what he was thinking, rather than what he should say. He had just asked a question which he could reasonably expect almost any young woman to be horrified by. But no horror showed on her face as they circled. Instead, she tilted her head a little, and gave a soft laugh. That sound warmed him somehow, as if it granted forgiveness for his bluntness.

“Truthfully?” He nodded. “I do find it tiring – if I allow myself to pay attention to it. I have learnt to ignore it, to pretend, at events such as this, that there are no thoughts in my head beyond fashion, and which gentleman is courting which lady. I hear the gossip, but discount the majority of it for foolishness, and regard the rest as likely vastly exaggerated, based on tiny grains of truth. It would never do for the ton to discover that I ever think of anything else, now would it?”

There. she had done it again. He felt as if the world spun under him, uneven, unbalanced. He realised, in that moment, that there was only one explanation – she did, actually, think about things other than fashion and gossip. Which opened a vast and intriguing blank space of possibilities – what, exactly, did she think about?

“I… I suppose that it would not. You might shock them, terribly. That is of course, supposing that whatever you do think about includes things which at least some of them would disapprove of?”

There was that soft laugh again.

“Oh it does, I assure you. That is the delightful thing about thinking – unless one chooses to express it in words, no one else knows what you have thought about. It is much the same as reading – unless one lets someone else see the title of the book, they have no idea what you have been reading. One can indulge in quite shocking things in the mind, whilst being primly perfect on the outside.”

He blinked, rather startled by the concept, and again, deeply curious about just what sort of shocking things might occur inside her mind.

“I see…”

“Oh dear, have I shocked you? Are you horrified? I really shouldn’t have said that, should I? But you ask such delightfully direct questions, that I find myself unable to do anything but answer you, rather than prevaricate.”

He laughed, and was stunned to realise that he had rarely laughed since he had returned from Oxford – not until now.

“I am, shall we say, startled. But not shocked, and certainly not horrified. I appreciate honesty, and bluntness. I am honoured that you have placed enough trust in me to tell me such things…”

Those blue violet eyes held his, as they rotated in a stately manner through the figures of the dance, and her fingers tightened on his where the dance required that they touch.

“In truth, I have surprised myself. Originally, when I knew only that you had been sent down, I would not have done so, but now, somehow… things are different. I do hope that you will be faithful to my trust, and not reveal my shocking secrets to the ton?”

“I will, indeed, be faithful, and hold what is yours close to my heart.”

As he spoke the words, they seemed to have a fateful ring to them, as if he promised far more than the keeping of small secrets. A shiver ran through him, strangely compounded of warmth and uncertainty, and he returned the pressure of her fingers, ever so slightly.

The music slowed, and again, he found that he did not wish the dance to end, that, with this woman, he wanted more – more time, more conversation, more understanding of just what hid inside that beautiful head.

They stopped, bowed and curtsied to each other, and then turned to leave the floor. As he offered her his arm, he glanced across and saw his father looking in his direction, his expression unhappy. Did his father disapprove of Lady Violet? That seemed unlikely. He would have to go straight to his father, once he had delivered Lady Violet to her family.

They were halfway across the floor when he came across his sister, on the arm of Lord Gillieston, who was their uncle, on their mother’s side of the family. They stopped, and introductions were made, with Arryn watching closely. He wanted, he discovered, his sister to like Lady Violet…

Lord Gillieston smiled, and spoke to Arryn in an unconvincing ‘aside’.

“My wife is an old friend of Lady Violet’s mother, you know. I do believe that it’s the gossip that bonds them together. I’ve warned your dear sister here that she should never do anything worth gossiping about, lest her aunt be forced to choose between gossip and family loyalty.”

Petrina tapped her uncle lightly with her fan, and turned back to Lady Violet.

“My uncle seems to think that I am doomed to creating gossip at some point in my life. So far, I have proved him wrong.”

“I pray, Lady Petrina, that you continue to prove him wrong. Being the subject of gossip is never pleasant.”