Chapter Six #2
His expression softened, something warm and vulnerable flickering in his eyes. "Thank you for saying that. You have no idea how rare it is to meet someone who…"
But whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sound of the front door opening again.
And Vanessa's heart stopped.
"Edward!" Lady Wayworth's voice carried from the entrance hall, bright with pleasure. "And Lord Montehood. How wonderful. Do come in, do come in."
Martin's laugh, low, warm, achingly familiar drifted through the doorway, and Vanessa felt her heart stutter in her chest.
He has arrived and I shall make futile attempts at denying my emotions for him the entire evening.
Lord Deane must have felt her stiffen, because he glanced down at her with concern. "Are you quite all right, Lady Vanessa? You have gone rather pale."
"Perfectly well." She forced her voice to remain steady. "I am simply... the room is rather warm, is it not?"
"Is it? I had not noticed." But he was too polite to press the matter, instead shifting slightly to give her more space on the settee. "Shall I fetch you a glass of water?"
"No, I…thank you, but I am fine. Truly."
And then Edward appeared in the drawing room doorway, with Martin at his side.
They made a striking pair, as they always did. Edward with his easy charm and golden good looks the kind of man who made everything seem effortless, who moved through life as though it were a game designed for his entertainment. And then there was Martin…
Martin, with his dark hair and sharp grey eyes and that particular way he carried himself, as though the world existed primarily for his amusement.
He was dressed impeccably, as always, in evening clothes that somehow managed to look both perfectly correct and subtly rebellious.
His cravat was tied in an elaborate knot that must have taken his valet considerable effort, though Martin wore it as though he had thrown it on without a second thought.
He looked, in short, devastating.
And he was looking directly at her.
"Van!" Edward crossed the room to press a kiss to her cheek, breaking her eye contact with Martin and giving her a moment to compose herself. "You look lovely. Trying to impress someone, are we?" His eyes flickered meaningfully to Lord Deane.
"I am always trying to impress someone. It is the burden of being a woman in society."
"Spoken like a true philosopher." Edward grinned, then turned to Lord Deane. "Deane, so good to see you. I trust you have been keeping my sister entertained?"
"I have been attempting to, Lord Wayworth." There was something slightly stiff in Lord Deane's voice now, a formality that had not been present moments before. "Though I suspect Lady Vanessa requires very little assistance in that regard."
"True enough. Van has never had trouble entertaining herself.
" Edward clapped Lord Deane on the shoulder with casual familiarity.
"Come, let me introduce you to my father.
He has been eager to discuss some investment opportunity or another, something about shipping concerns, I believe.
You have interests in that area, do you not? "
"I…yes, I have some modest holdings in…"
"Excellent. Father will be delighted. He has quite exhausted poor Mother’s patience with his particulars and she has forbidden him from speaking of it in her presence."
He steered Lord Deane away with practiced ease, leaving Vanessa suddenly, terrifyingly alone with Martin.
"Little Wayworth." The nickname fell from his lips with that familiar, teasing lilt…but was there something different in his voice tonight? Some undercurrent she had not heard before? "We meet again."
"Lord Montehood." She was proud of how steady her voice sounded. "Welcome to our home."
"I have always enjoyed visiting the Wayworth residence." He moved closer, not inappropriately close, but close enough that she could smell the familiar scent of sandalwood that clung to his clothes. "The company is invariably... stimulating."
"Stimulating?" She raised an eyebrow, falling back on their usual banter like a shield. "Is that your way of saying we argue too much?"
"I would never say such a thing. I find our arguments deeply edifying." His grey eyes glinted with something that might have been amusement, or might have been something else entirely. "They keep me sharp. One cannot allow one's wits to grow dull."
"And have mercy if your wits should ever be anything less than razor-sharp."
"Exactly. I knew you would understand." He smiled…that devastating smile that had been haunting her since she was sixteen and Vanessa felt her carefully constructed composure begin to crack.
He is acting normally, she told herself. This is exactly how he always acts. Teasing. Charming. Infuriating. There is nothing different about tonight.
But was there something different about the way he was looking at her? Something in his gaze that lingered a moment too long, that seemed to be searching for something beneath the surface?
Or was she simply imagining things, seeing meaning where there was none?
"You seem tense," Martin observed, his voice dropping to something more private. "Is something troubling you?"
"Nothing at all. I am merely tired. It has been a long week."
"Has it?" His head tilted slightly, that searching look intensifying. "Anything in particular?"
Yes. I spent three days convinced that you had read six years' worth of my letters showing my devotion to you. I barely slept. I barely ate. I contemplated moving to the Americas.
"Nothing specific," she said. "Simply the usual exhaustion of the Season."
"Ah. The Season." He nodded slowly. "Yes, I imagine it must be draining. All those eligible gentlemen paying court. All those decisions to be made." His gaze flickered across the room to where Lord Deane stood talking to her father. "Speaking of which,Deane seems rather attentive this evening."
"Lord Deane is always attentive. It is one of his qualities."
"One of his many qualities, I am sure." There was something in Martin's tone, something she could not quite identify.
“He is a man of the most exemplary character, from what I am led to believe. He is gentle, upright, and possesses great faithfulness. Indeed, he is the very sort of gentleman who would make a fine match.”
The words were quite harmless enough, but the way he said them, the slight edge beneath the pleasant surface made Vanessa look at him more closely.
"You do not approve of Lord Deane?"
"I did not say that."
"You did not have to. Your tone said it for you."
Martin's expression flickered, showing surprise, perhaps, or something else she could not read before smoothing back into its usual mask of urbane amusement.
"I have no opinion on Lord Deane whatsoever," he said. "He is perfectly... adequate."
"Adequate." She could not help the sharpness in her voice. “What a formidable recommendation.”
"Would you prefer I fabricated the truth? Tell you he is the most fascinating man of my acquaintance?" Martin's smile did not reach his eyes. "I am many things, Vanessa, my word is not to be trifled with.”
The use of her name, without the protective layer of teasing, sent a jolt through her. He so rarely called her simply Vanessa and so it felt intimate and extremely dangerous.
"I would prefer," she said carefully, "that you keep your opinions about my potential suitors to yourself."
"Potential suitors?" His eyebrows rose. "So he is a suitor now? If my information remains current, you were merely acquaintances."
"People's circumstances change."
"Do they?" He was watching her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. "And what circumstances, precisely, have changed?"
Before she could formulate a response, Lady Wayworth appeared at her elbow.
"Vanessa, dear, do come help me with the seating arrangements. There has been a small crisis with the place cards." She smiled apologetically at Martin. "You will excuse us, Lord Montehood?"
"Of course, Lady Wayworth." Martin executed a perfect bow. "I shall endeavor to entertain myself."
Vanessa allowed herself to be swept away, but she could feel his gaze on her back as she went.
Watching. Waiting. For what, she could not say.
***
Dinner was announced at eight on the hour precisely.
The dining room glowed with candlelight and the table was laid with the family's best china and silver.
Lady Wayworth had surpassed herself with fresh flowers in crystal vases, crisp linens and the subtle gleam of polished wood.
Everything was perfect, with the sole intent of making a great impression.
Vanessa found her seat, between Lord Deane on her right and Martin on her left, exactly as her mother had arranged and endeavored to expel the bothersome notions that clouded her mind.
"What a lovely table," Lord Deane said, settling into his chair with evident appreciation. "Lady Wayworth has impeccable taste."
"She does," Vanessa agreed. "She has been planning this dinner for days."
"The mark of an excellent hostess." He turned to her with a warm smile. "Though I confess, the décor interests me far less than the company."
From her left, she heard what might have been a soft snort.
She ignored it.
"You flatter me, Lord Deane."
"I speak only the truth." His voice dropped slightly, becoming more intimate. "I have enjoyed our conversations immensely, Lady Vanessa. You have a way of making me feel as though my thoughts actually matter."
"Your thoughts do matter."
"Not to everyone." There was a flicker of something in his expression, vulnerability, perhaps. "You would be surprised how many people are interested only in my title and my fortune. You are... refreshingly different."
Across the table, Edward was leaning close to Helena, murmuring something that made her blush and smile.
Lady Wayworth watched with barely concealed approval.
Mr. and Mrs. Crawford exchanged bemused glances, clearly uncertain what to make of their daughter's sudden popularity with the heir to an earldom.