Page 9 of An Enchantress for an Earl

Chapter Four

“I heard some disturbing mutterings today, at White’s.”

Arryn looked up from his book, and raised an enquiring eyebrow at his father.

“Mutterings?”

“Yes. About you. And about me.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Father?”

“Even though you’ve been perfectly behaved ever since you returned to London, there are some who are whispering about what might have got you sent down – and while some of them seem to have at least the core of the story right, there are others drawing a very long bow indeed on the truth – they would appear to have been listening to the gossips, and then exaggerating what they’ve heard. To make it worse, they are now speculating on exactly where you may have ‘learnt such behaviour’, and implying that if you are so morally lacking, then you must have become so because I am, too.”

“What!”

“Exactly. I don’t quite know what they think they gain by so besmirching both our reputations, unless it is to thereby call into question my judgement when it comes to the Committee on the anti-forgery methods.”

“But that makes no sense - what would anyone stand to gain from that?”

“I don’t know. It seems pointless – but if there is one thing that I have learnt over the years, it’s that no matter how illogical a thing seems on the surface, there will be a reason for it, deep down. I just haven’t worked out what it is yet. But until I do, it’s even more important that you are absolutely perfect in all ways.”

Arryn groaned.

“I may be a perfectionist about many things, but I have never believed that I am capable of being perfect! I am not sure that anyone is.”

“Just do your best. And make sure that the information you give me, from all this research you are doing, will be enough to convince the House to act, and implement appropriate measures to combat this epidemic of forgery. And, at all times, keep your eyes and ears open – perhaps you will see or hear something at one event or another which might help us discover who is creating these damnable rumours, and why.”

“I will, although I don’t expect that anyone is likely to say anything in my hearing. Once I refused to gamble with them, most of them decided to ignore me. Lord Villeham positively sneered at me, as if choosing not to gamble made me less of a man. I don’t know where that one gets his seemingly bottomless funds – his father never seemed that flush, when he lived.”

“You’re right there – but mayhap the previous Lord Villeham was just a penny pincher. One never knows – young Lord Harmonton is just the same – spends his time gambling – and worse – with Villeham, and yet I’d not thought his estates capable of supporting that lifestyle. Perhaps they are both deep in hock to the moneylenders. If so, those debts will eventually claim them. I am grateful, Arryn, that you were never tempted by that lifestyle.”

“Father, you know me – the whole process of gambling is one where the odds are against you – once I understood enough mathematics to calculate that, I lost all interest in the idea. The idea of trusting my funds to something so disorderly as random chance offends my very soul.”

His father laughed, shaking his head a little.

“You are so like your grandfather. I pray that you manage to moderate those traits enough to bring you less argument in your life than he suffered.”

“So do I.”

>>>

Violet leaned back in her chair, allowing the French novel she had been attempting to read to drop into her lap. The novel was good, but she simply could not concentrate on it. Instead, her mind was full of the implications of how the entire British monetary system worked.

She’d had no idea, until she had delved into Cobbett’s book, just how complex the matters were – or how important.

It was fascinating – that wealth was determined, in so many cases, by something as simple as a flimsy piece of paper… She could see why the matter of forgery was important enough to have been raised in the House of Lords. But, almost more intriguing than the detail of how it all worked, was the question of exactly what Lord Merryfield was studying, related to this – and why.

Irritated, she pushed that thought aside. She had resolved to ignore the man, to waste no more time on him in any way, yet here he was, intruding on her mind yet again. She rose, carrying the book, and left the parlour – this evening was to be a soiree at Lady Dartwood’s, and she really should set about preparing herself.

Would there be anyone new there, she wondered? Or… would Lord Merryfield be there?

She shook her head, disgusted with herself – of course, she did not care at all whether that man was there, or not.

>>>

For so late in the autumn, the soiree at Lady Dartwood’s was rather a shocking crush. But then, Parliament would meet again in only a few weeks’ time, so perhaps it was simply that so many were in Town for that. The crowd meant that the rooms were overly warm, and that there was really no space for dancing. Instead, people milled about whilst a small orchestra played from a tiny dais set in one corner of the main parlour, and the rumble of conversation nearly drowned out the music.

Beside Violet, Iris appeared to be focused on the musicians.