Chapter Fifteen
The drawing room had never felt so small.
Vanessa sat on the settee beside her mother, her hands folded in her lap, her spine rigid with tension. Across the room, the clock on the mantelpiece ticked with maddening slowness, each second stretching into an eternity.
Martin had been in her father's study for nearly half an hour.
"Do stop fidgeting, dear," Lady Wayworth said, not looking up from her embroidery. "You will wear a hole in your gloves."
"I am not fidgeting."
"You are. You have been twisting your fingers together for the past ten minutes. It is most unbecoming."
Vanessa forced her hands to still. Her mother was right, she was fidgeting, and badly. But how could she be expected to sit calmly while her entire future was being decided in another room?
"I still do not understand why you did not tell me sooner," Lady Wayworth continued, her needle flashing in and out of the fabric. "All those years of pushing Lord Hartington's daughter at the Duke, and Lady Catherine Price, and that dreadful Beaumont girl and all along, he was interested in you."
"He was not…that is, we were not…"
"Oh, spare me the protestations." Lady Wayworth finally looked up, and there was a knowing glint in her eye. "I am your mother, Vanessa. I have watched you pine for that man since you were seventeen years old. Did you think I did not notice?"
Vanessa's cheeks flamed. "You knew?"
"Of course I knew. A mother always knows.
" Lady Wayworth returned to her embroidery with an air of supreme satisfaction.
"I simply could not understand why he did not act on his obvious regard for you.
The man has been watching you like a hawk at every social function for years.
I was beginning to think he was simply too stubborn to admit his feelings. "
"He was protecting his friendship with Edward."
"Foolishness. Edward would have been delighted. He adores you both." Lady Wayworth shook her head. "Men are such fools about these things. They convince themselves they are being noble and self-sacrificing, when really they are simply being cowardly."
"Mama!"
"What? It is true. Your father was the same way. Spent two entire Seasons dancing around me before he finally worked up the courage to speak to my father. I was beginning to believe I would have to propose to him myself."
The image of her proper, dignified mother proposing matrimony to anyone was so incongruous that Vanessa almost laughed. Almost but the knot of anxiety in her stomach was too tight to permit actual mirth.
"What if Father says no?"
"Why on earth would he say no? Lord Montehood is a duke.
He is wealthy, well-connected, and despite his reputation, fundamentally decent.
Your father has always liked him." Lady Wayworth's lips curved.
"Besides, I suspect your father has been expecting this conversation for some time. He is not as oblivious as he pretends."
Before Vanessa could respond, the drawing room door opened.
Her father appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable. Behind him, Martin stood with an air of barely contained tension, his hands clasped behind his back.
Vanessa rose to her feet, her heart pounding.
"Well?" Lady Wayworth set aside her embroidery, her casual demeanour abandoned. "Do not keep us in suspense, Harold. What have you decided?"
Lord Wayworth's gaze moved from his wife to his daughter. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his weathered face.
“I have resolved,” he declared, “to consider my family strengthened by the addition of a son.”
The breath rushed out of Vanessa's lungs as relief crashed over her like a wave, so intense that her knees nearly buckled.
"Oh, thank heavens." Lady Wayworth pressed a hand to her chest. "I was beginning to think you intended to torture us with dramatic pauses all afternoon."
"I thought a bit of suspense was appropriate. It is not every day one's daughter becomes betrothed to a duke." Lord Wayworth crossed the room and took Vanessa's hands in his. His eyes, so like her own, were soft with emotion. "You are happy, my dear? Truly happy?"
"Yes, Papa. Truly."
"Then that is all I need to know." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then released her and turned to Martin. "Take care of her, Montehood. She is my greatest treasure."
"I know, sir." Martin's voice was rough. "I will spend the rest of my life proving worthy of her."
"See that you do." Lord Wayworth's tone was stern, but there was warmth beneath it. "Now, I believe this calls for celebration. Margaret, ring for champagne. We have a betrothal to announce."
***
The next hour passed in a blur of congratulations and champagne.
Lady Wayworth, once she had recovered from her initial shock, threw herself into planning mode with frightening efficiency. She spoke of announcements and betrothal parties and trousseau and wedding dates, her words tumbling over each other in a torrent of maternal enthusiasm.
"A June wedding, I think. The gardens will be in full bloom, and the weather should be pleasant. We shall have to begin the guest list immediately, there are at least three hundred people who must be invited, perhaps four hundred if we include the…"
"Mama." Vanessa held up a hand. "We have been betrothed for less than an hour. Perhaps we might wait a day or two before planning the wedding?"
"Nonsense. There is no time to waste. These things take months to arrange properly, and I will not have my daughter's wedding be anything less than perfect." Lady Wayworth turned to Martin. "You have no objections, I trust?"
"None whatsoever, Lady Wayworth. I defer entirely to your superior expertise in such matters."
"A wise answer. I can see you will make an excellent son-in-law.
" She patted his arm approvingly. "Now, about the venue.
I assume the ceremony will be at St. George's?
It is the only appropriate choice for a duke, of course, but we shall need to secure the date quickly.
The vicar is notoriously difficult about scheduling. "
Vanessa caught Martin's eye across the room. He raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
Help me, she mouthed.
You are on your own, he mouthed back.
She glared at him. He grinned.
"If you will excuse me," Vanessa said, rising from her seat, "I need a moment of fresh air. The excitement has been rather overwhelming."
"Of course, dear." Lady Wayworth waved a distracted hand. "Do not dawdle…as we have much to discuss."
Vanessa escaped to the garden before her mother could rope her into a debate about flower arrangements.
***
The garden was quiet, the afternoon light filtering through the leaves of the old oak tree. Vanessa settled onto the stone bench beneath its branches and let out a long breath.
She was betrothed…to Martin Hale, Duke of Montehood.
It still did not feel real.
"Hiding already?"
She looked up to find Edward approaching, his hands in his pockets, his expression somewhere between amused and affectionate.
"Not hiding…merely recovering." She shifted to make room for him on the bench. "Mama has already planned the entire wedding. I believe she mentioned ice sculptures."
“That is definitely the work of our mother.” Edward sat beside her, stretching his long legs out before him. "She has been waiting for this moment for years, you know. The chance to plan a society wedding for one of her children."
"Then she should have focused her energies on you. You are the heir."
"Yes, but I am also a man, which means I am entirely useless when it comes to matters of lace and flower arrangements." He bumped her shoulder with his. "You, on the other hand, are the perfect canvas for her ambitions."
“I am favoured by fortune indeed.”
They sat in companionable silence for a moment. The sounds of the city felt distant here, muffled by the garden walls and the rustling leaves.
"I am happy for you," Edward said finally. "Truly, Van. I know I gave you both a hard time on that terrace, but, I am glad. Martin is a good man. He will take care of you."
"I do not need taking care of."
"No. But you deserve someone who wants to anyway." He turned to look at her, his expression serious. "He holds you in great affection. I have never seen him like this not with anyone. When he speaks of you, his whole face changes.”
"Thank you for your alliance.”
"I am your brother. It is my duty." He grinned, then sobered. "But truly, Vanessa. I have known Martin for fifteen years. He is not a man who gives his heart easily. The fact that he has given it to you completely, irrevocably means something."
"I know." Her voice was soft. "I feel the same way about him."
"Splendid. Then I shall restrain myself from the traditional brotherly threats." He paused. "Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"I reserve the right to threaten him at least once. For form's sake."
Vanessa laughed. "I am sure he will appreciate the gesture."
"He had better. I have been practicing my menacing glare." Edward demonstrated, narrowing his eyes and setting his jaw in an expression of exaggerated severity.
"Terrifying."
"I thought so." He relaxed, the silliness fading into something more sincere. "I am glad you are happy, Van. After everything…the letters, the worry, all those years of pining…you deserve this. You both do."
"You know about the letters?"
"Martin told me. Last night, after you went upstairs." Edward's expression was carefully neutral. "He felt I should know, given that I am your brother and his closest friend. He was quite prepared for me to punch him."
"Did you?"
"I considered it. But then I decided that anyone who had suffered through six years of unrequited affection or what he believed was unrequited affection, had already punished himself quite enough.
" He shook his head. "Honestly, Van. The two of you.
Dancing around each other for years, both convinced the other did not care.
It would be tragic if it were not so absurd. "