Deceiving the Viscount

Chapter 5

Garrett blinked in surprise when he found his gaze locked by dark brown orbs that were unflinching. Then he burst out laughing as Shearing's words hit him. "Good God, man! You must possess the balls of Alexander the Great." He clapped his hands slowly. "Well-played, my good man." Leaning forward, he reached over the coffee table, hand outstretched, grin in place.

Shearing clasp that hand and shook it once, a grin of his own in place. "It was nothing, my lord. I have endured many of such a stare." At Garrett's puzzled look, he pointed to his face. "Do you not see that I'm different?"

"Which part?"

"My eyes."

"What about it?"

Shearing stared at him as if he'd grown two heads. "Do you not see that they are not the same colour?"

He shook his head. "They don't look different to me." At the younger man's frown, he continued, "I cannot distinguish between certain colours, usually when there's a red hue in it. So your eyes look quite the same colour to me."

"Oh." Shearing scratched his chin. "That is..."

"A relief?" He nodded. "I know the feeling."

"You have been singled out before? As being different?"

Shearing's startled look had him letting out a wry chuckle. "Aren't we all different in some way? Your Grand Tour should have demonstrated that plainly to you."

Shearing glanced down at the table, his index finger tapping the wood once, twice. "Not quite." The soft, serious words were a stark contrast to his earlier cockiness. "The countries I travelled to were still reeling from the devastation of Bonaparte's conquering. Poverty was rife. It mattered not what country they hailed from. The suffering they endured was the same. It was...difficult to see." There was a pause, and Shearing took a deep breath before lifting his gaze. "So, no, I couldn't see them as different. I wanted to help but I do not have endless wealth..." he let out a self-depreciating laugh. "And so I returned a year earlier than my parents had expected me to. Everyone congratulated me on having completed this...grand traipse through Europe, thinking that I was none worse for the wear. But...everything changed. I changed. But nothing else did." His hands clenched into fists.

Garrett knew then, in his gut, that Shearing had a good heart, was a good man. And he would be happy to call him a friend. "It is the same for me. I feel as you do." The vexation in Shearing's eyes gave way to surprise. "I'm glad to know that there are more of us who share such sentiments when there are so few instances of them being demonstrated. And I want change, just as you do."

Inspiration struck then. It was a gamble, but he couldn't in good conscience not seize the opportunity when it so readily presented itself. "How badly do you want things to change? Very?" At Shearing's vigorous nodding, he continued. "Badly enough that you would take up a seat in Commons to help us push for reform?"

The silence from Shearing was expected. It wasn't everyday that one was pushed to run for Parliament. "I do not require an answer as of now," Garrett added hastily. "But I would like you to consider becoming a political ally of some of us who are in the Lords."

"I don't-"

The door opened to reveal Miss Marlowe and Lady Welles, and both men rose to their feet to exchange greetings with the ladies, effectively ending their discussion.

"My lord, Arthur. Our apologies for our tardy entrance," Lady Welles said. "Julia here is ready for that walk, my lord. And I was wondering, my lord, if you could allow Arthur to join you?"

"Mother, Mr Shearing here expressed his delight at wanting to hear more about your new collection of fans," Miss Marlowe jumped in hurriedly, to the amusement of Garrett. "From...Italy. Where he recently returned from." She sent a winning smile to the other man. "Isn't that right, Mr Shearing?"