Page 3 of An Enchantress for an Earl

It was too dreadful a concept to even consider.

Just as she was thinking that she should find a corner to hide in, a cheerful voice spoke from behind her.

“Violet, do come with me – I want to introduce you to someone.”

Thorne grinned at her when she turned, and she allowed her brother to lead her away.

Her relief at escaping Lady Fotheringhampton’s gossip was short-lived, however, when she realised just where Thorne was leading her.

There was, it appeared, to be no avoiding a certain person.

“Violet, may I make known to you the Earl of Merryfield. Merryfield, my sister, Lady Violet Gardenbrook.”

Merryfield took her hand, and she shivered at his touch – there was something about him... he bowed.

“I am delighted to meet you, Lady Violet.”

“And I you.”

Not really, but I will be polite.

The thought slipped through her mind as years of training took over.

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Arryn forced himself to smile, and to keep smiling, as it became obvious that the whole room was whispering about him. A flutter of young women drifted in his direction, but some were drawn back by parents, who obviously were paying heed to some gossip or another. He wondered what he had been described as doing – undoubtedly something far more heinous than arguing with a wilfully ignorant old man.

He stepped forward, and a movement caught his eye. A man he knew, coming towards him – but with a young woman at his side.

Her hair was a rich pale gold, a lighter version of the deeply burnished locks of the man beside her. She moved elegantly, and he found himself caught, watching, instead of looking away. She looked up, and met his eyes. Even from a distance, he could see that hers were a startling blue violet in colour.

They reached him, just as he remembered who the man was - Thorne Gardenbrook, Marquess of Wildenhall.

“Wildenhall – good evening to you.”

“Good evening, Merryfield. Violet, may I make known to you the Earl of Merryfield. Merryfield, my sister, Lady Violet Gardenbrook.”

Arryn took her hand and bowed.

“I am delighted to meet you, Lady Violet.”

“And I you.”

He had the strangest feeling that her words were not sincere – which was remarkable – normally any young woman was genuinely delighted to meet an unmarried Earl. But she was beautiful, and showed every external sign of being as feather-brained as all of them were – so perhaps it was just his irritation with the whole evening making him think her statement insincere. Silence extended, and he sought words, a way out of the conversation.

“Lady Violet, might I hope that you have a dance available? This one, if possible?”

What had he done! That was not what he had intended at all. She looked unsure, then gave the tiniest shrug.

“Of course, Lord Merryfield.”