Page 34 of An Enchantress for an Earl

Turning away, allowing her eyes to drop from his, was quite the hardest thing that Violet had ever done. The look on his face in that moment, as he had taken that step towards her, had told her more about his feelings than anything previous. For that few seconds, he had looked at her as if she were the most wonderful thing that he had ever seen, as if he wanted to run to her, to sweep her into his arms.

That look had left her with heated blood, and flushed cheeks, so she was glad of the shadows beside the old bookcase. It was a look which required exploration later, required a conversation in which she would do as she seemed to always do with him, and risk all of her careful management of what others knew of her, by asking him outright what she wanted to know, by revealing that she thought about things seriously, and by telling him the truth.

She stood, and watched as he made certain that everything was in place – neatly laid out, perfectly aligned, and ready for the influx of the Lords, who would, she was certain, put things instantly into disarray.

She found his dedication to precision and order endearing, soothing after a lifetime amongst her rather active family, who, were it not for their loyal and efficient servants, would never have managed to tidy anything. Finally, apparently satisfied, he went to the front of the room, speaking quietly with Lord Westerhazy and the lean man with greying hair and ink-stained fingers, whom she assumed to be the person who would deliver the actual demonstration.

A sound drew her eyes away from him, and she turned to see the door open, and a stream of gentlemen begin to enter. Most she knew, by sight at least, although there were some she had never seen before. Obviously, the demonstration had drawn out many who rarely attended parliament. Observing them seemed a kind of harmless amusement, until, amongst them, she saw Lord Villeham, and his friend. She froze in place, unable to take her eyes from them, as horror filled her. She should have expected that they would be here, that they would want to see this – for if they were forgers, what was to be demonstrated here today would threaten their livelihood.

They turned, and Lord Villeham’s eyes met hers. She did not understand what she saw there, as his cold eyes widened, and then narrowed, hard, his lips twisting into what looked like dark amusement, but it terrified her. He gave a small nod in her direction, and that twist of the lips widened into a wolfish grin, as if he were, for some incomprehensible reason, glad that she was there.

She was not sure how long she stood like that, caught by that frightening gaze, but the relief when he dropped his eyes and turned away to seek a chair was enormous. It was only then that she discovered that she was shaking. Grimly, she clasped her hands tightly together, and stilled the quivering, then steadfastly set her eyes upon the front of the room.

But even as she did, her thoughts were turning upon that look from Lord Villeham – he could not know that she knew of his ill-doing – could he? Why would he look upon her like that? There was no association between them and, as far as she knew, no reason that he might in any way suspect that she was aware of anything about him, except what had publicly been seen at Balls.

Nonetheless, the icy fear remained, for his expression had, somehow, contained threat.

She forced her attention back to the announcement that Lord Westerhazy was now making.

She would watch, and she would hold in her thoughts the look that Lord Merryfield had given her, to warm the ice which had filled her veins when Lord Villeham had regarded her.