Page 7 of An Enchantress for an Earl

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Arryn stepped through the door of Bigglesworth’s Books and took a deep breath. There was just something so soothing about the scent of books and the leather of their bindings. Added to that, Bigglesworth’s Books was a haven of order. The shelves were arranged with everything in its place, according to its type and topic, so that he could always be assured of finding the thing that he wanted.

Behind the counter, old Mr Bigglesworth looked up from the book he was reading, and gave Arryn a nod of greeting – the old man was perfectly aware that Arryn understood his shelving pattern, and was quite capable of finding the things that he wanted.

He worked his way through the narrow spaces between the shelves, until he arrived at the very back of the store. Here, on three groaning shelves, were collected all of the books related to laws, and matters of political opinion.

He had come in search of a rather contentious work, written by a man who had barely evaded being arrested for sedition – yet it was a work worthy of consideration, especially in the face of the matter of paper money and its forgery. Whether he would find a copy of ‘Paper Against Gold’ by William Cobbett on these shelves, he did not know, but he rather suspected that, if any bookshop in London would have one, Bigglesworth’s would. He had heard rumour that Cobbett intended to return to England in the coming months, which made it even more important to understand the radical attitude to these matters, for once the man was on English soil, he would no doubt be outspoken in all ways - through his weekly newspaper, and beyond.

If too many people listened, then no matter what anti forgery methods were put in place, there would be increasing unrest in the country, and all of the efforts of Arryn’s father’s committee might come to naught.

He sifted through the neatly arranged volumes, and was rather startled to discover not just one, but three copies of the book he sought. Carefully, he examined each one, and selected the one that he determined to be in the best condition. It had been published four years earlier, so any copy to be had might well be assumed to have suffered all manner of mistreatment and annotation. As he went to step back from the shelf, contemplating whether there was anything else here that he might wish to purchase, a hand reached past his shoulder, and grasped one of the other copies of ‘Paper Against Gold’.

Startled, he spun around, and found himself face to face with Lady Violet Gardenbrook. He froze, his eyes going to her lips, which parted slightly in the expression of a shock which appeared to mirror his own. Those lips were mere inches from his. He could not look away, could not move, could not, quite, breathe.

She pulled her arm back, clutching the book against her, and for a moment they simply stood. In an impulse unlike any he had ever felt before, there rose in him the desire to lean forward, to close that tiny gap between them, and to bring his lips to hers. It was a shocking thought – almost as shocking as finding her here, selecting a copy of ‘Paper Against Gold’ from the shelf.

He forced himself to look away from those lips, to breathe again, and reached desperately for the practised veneer of appropriate politeness.

“Ah… good day to you, Lady Violet.”

“Lord Merryfield.”

Silence fell again, as they each regarded the other rather as if they had come upon a viper, sunning itself upon the log they had intended to sit upon. Yet again, she confused him, causing his neatly ordered world to tilt out of any sane alignment. It was unconscionable that she was able to do so, seemingly merely by existing. Then, without any planning on his part, words issued from his mouth.

“Why would a lady read a book by a man nearly charged with sedition? Despite the fact that not all of his ideas are bad….”

It was certainly not the sort of thing one should say to a gently reared lady of the ton, was, in fact, unutterably rude. Nonetheless he had said it. He could almost hear his father’s voice in his mind, admonishing him. But, rather than appear utterly shocked, or on the verge of an attack of the vapours, she fixed him with a glare almost as harsh as his father’s worst, and responded with a question of her own.

“Why would a man so disregarding of the importance of his studies as to get sent down consider reading such a treatise – unless you plan to become a voice for parliamentary reform?”

“Well, actually… I do…”

The words were, again, out before he had any chance to think. Her eyes widened, and a frown creased her brow for a moment, as if she found what he had just said to be nonsensical.

“You… do?”

“I do… eventually.”

She almost snorted in disbelief, and he felt a burst of anger. How dare she judge him! How dare any of them judge him – all he had done was stand up for what was right, in the face of unbearable outright falsehoods. Why could people not understand just how intolerable it was, that such things were ever allowed to pass?

“I see. Well, I won’t delay you any longer – with aims like that, I am sure that you have a great deal to do.”

She spun on her heel, and hurried off towards the front part of the shop, her copy of ‘Paper Against Gold’ clutched tightly to her. Arryn stayed there, unable to move, simply watching her walk away. As she disappeared from his view, he realised that she had not answered his question – he still had no idea why she would read such a book – and, alarmingly, he discovered that he wanted, very much, to know.

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Violet carried the book to the counter, so that Mr Bigglesworth could add it to their family account, and so that she could collect the new sheet music which should have arrived for Iris.

Her heart was beating far faster than normal, and she felt strangely breathless. The way that Lord Merryfield had looked at her face, at her lips, to be precise… the memory of it sent a flush of heat through her. Really, the man was beyond annoying! He was supposed to be quite beneath her consideration, given all that she knew of him… but he kept confusing her, surprising her and, worst of all, making her want to understand him!

She resolved, yet again, to not think about him.

Mr Bigglesworth handed her the parcel of sheet music, made a note of her purchases in his ledger, and smiled as she left, unsurprised by her choice of reading matter. The Gardenbrooks were a somewhat eccentric family, with eclectic taste in books. He approved.

Outside, her footman waited, and soon she was settled in her carriage, and on the way home. She closed her eyes and leant back against the squabs, but the image of Lord Merryfield rose in her mind, his dark amber eyes full of something which had seemed a peculiar compounding of confusion, annoyance, and almost… desire? He was the strangest man she had ever met.

If he had truly meant what he had said, that he intended to work for parliamentary reform, then what, she wondered, did he wish to see reformed? She had asked her father what matters the committees of the House of Lords were currently working on, and he had raised an eyebrow, but answered her honestly. It would not do to have claimed, to Lord Merryfield as they danced, that she was aware of the current matters under consideration by parliament, and to remain ignorant! That conversation was what had led her to seek out this particular book.