Page 35 of An Enchantress for an Earl

Chapter Thirteen

Arryn’s attention was only half on the demonstration, on the inane questions that many of the Lords asked, for he was aware at all times of Lady Violet watching from where she stood in the shadows. She had moved away from the bookcase a little, more towards the door, as if she wished to be able to slip out quickly, as if she expected to need to flee.

He shook the thought away – it was foolish imagining on his part. Perhaps she simply wanted to be able to make a quiet exit if she found the proceedings so dull as to not be worth her time. Still, he watched her, surreptitiously.

She was obviously attending to the discussion, watching everything intently, as if she understood all of it. Perhaps, the thought came to him, rather shockingly, she did. After all – she had purchased a copy of ‘Paper Against Gold’… that odd sensation rolled through him again – the one where she, simply by being herself, shook the very foundations of his perception of the world.

Finally, the questions slowed, all but one.

“Westerhazy, might we take away one of those imitation notes we’ve just seen printed? I am intrigued by just how difficult that pattern of lines would be to copy, and I must say, until now, I’ve never that closely examined every tiny letter and mark on the notes that have passed through my hands. I’d like to study this in more detail.”

It was Lord Gillieston – and Arryn was oddly pleased that his uncle had chosen to ask such a thing, for he hoped that the man’s interest might provoke others to pay more attention to the matter as well. There was a rustle of conversation around the room as the entire audience waited on the answer. Beside him, his father smiled.

“Of course, gentlemen. That was one of our intentions from today – that you might be able to examine these sample notes, and compare the printing accuracy and patterns to other notes you may currently hold. It is also why these are so very clearly marked as ‘sample, of no monetary value’. We have printed enough to allow you to each take one, and the ink has dried whilst we have been answering your other questions. If you will come forward in an orderly fashion, we will distribute them to you.”

Arryn would not, personally, have described what happened then as ‘orderly’ but at least it wasn’t an all-out scramble. He glanced to the back of the room. Lady Violet had not moved – she still stood deep in shadow beside yet another old cupboard, but her eyes met his, and he saw amusement there, as if she too found the behaviour of the Lords to be reminiscent of schoolboys offered a treat.

He smiled, glad yet again that she was there, for reasons he could not, in any rational way, define. As he watched, a small group of Lords with sample notes in hand hurried towards the door.

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Violet had moved closer to the door, driven by that sense of foreboding which had overtaken her in the moment when Lord Villeham had looked at her so oddly. Now, hiding in as much shadow as she could, she watched, frustrated, wanting to see more closely, wanting to gather up one of those sample notes herself, but unwilling to expose herself to more public notice. It was verging on scandalous enough that she was here at all. If her father had not been in the room, it would have been a scandal, absolutely.

While many Lords still pressed forward, reaching for the sample notes, some of the first were already turning away, notes in hand. Among them, two stood out – Lord Villeham and his friend. They paused near the door, barely a yard from where Violet stood, and she held her breath, terrified that they would notice her presence – it seemed that she was destined to, yet again, overhear their conversation.

“I’ve made sure to get one where the ink is truly dry, and won’t smudge. I’ll leave you for now, and get this to my man. It’s not far – I’ll see you at White’s later, and we can contemplate our next actions over dinner.”

“Very well – I’ll be most interested to hear what your man has to say about it, most interested.”

“So will I.”

Violet’s heart was pounding, and the need to breathe was becoming extreme, but her thoughts raced. What Lord Villeham had said… she could only interpret it one way. He was going to take the sample note to his forger – and he had said it was not far.

This was an opportunity she could not allow to slip away. And he was already on his way across the outer Hall towards the street doors – there was no time for her to tell anyone what she was doing – only if she went now would she be able to follow him, to discover the location of the man who carried out the actual work of forging.

She took in a deep ragged breath and slipped through the door into the outer Hall, passing between two rather startled Lords, who had not, until then, noticed her presence. She quickly flicked the cloak she had been holding over her arm around her shoulders, and sped across the space, weaving between other people, just in time to see Lord Villeham disappear out through the street door.

She moved faster, not quite running, and nearly shoved the footman aside as he opened the door for her. Where had Villeham gone? She paused, looking up and down the street, and barely caught sight of him as he stepped up into a hackney cab. At that sight, she did run, scandalous or not, until she reached her carriage.

“John!” Her coachman spun towards her, startled out of his doze. “John – see that hackney?”

She pointed, and he turned, looking.

“Yes, milady.”

“Follow it – as fast as you can, without alerting them to the fact that we follow.”

Even as she spoke, she flung herself into the carriage, slamming the door after her as it lurched into motion. Quietly, she thanked God for the fact that her family employed people who were loyal, and did not ask awkward questions. She slid the blind open a little, and peered out, trying to see where they were going.

The street they moved along changed rapidly from a clean thoroughfare between the imposing buildings of Westminster and the Churches, to a narrower road, lined by older houses, craftsmen’s shops, warehouses, and the like, with crooked lanes running off it towards the river and the stone wharves. It was not a place a lady should go, alone – she could tell that straight away.

The carriage slowed, and for the first time, she wondered what she would do, when they arrived wherever Villeham was going. But really, there was no question about it – she would slip out of the carriage, and attempt to see or hear what went on, once he entered whatever building he might go into. She could not let this chance to gather more evidence against the man slip by. Perhaps Lord Setford had men watching him – but perhaps not – in the heart of Westminster, might that not have been difficult to arrange?

The carriage slowed even more, and her heart pounded, her palms suddenly damp. She would soon see if she had the courage to do what needed to be done.

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Arryn’s eyes flicked back to Lady Violet – she was moving, and, going from utter stillness to rapid motion in the blink of any eye, she turned and slipped out through the door, as if pursuing something, or someone. In that moment, certainty settled into Arryn’s core – something was wrong. She would not do such a thing, would not draw attention to herself like that, after so carefully staying inconspicuous, unless something important required it, or something threatened her.