Chapter Fifteen #2
"We were both very foolish."
“Extremely.”
He patted her on the knee.
“I need you to give me your word that should you have any qualms…you must tell him before another six years pass…communication, Van, is very important.”
"I promise."
"Excellent." He rose from the bench, brushing off his trousers. "Now, I am going to go rescue Martin from Mama's clutches before she convinces him to have the wedding at Westminster Abbey. He looked rather desperate when I left."
"You are a good brother."
"The best." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Do not stay out here too long. The champagne is excellent, and I intend to drink most of it before you return."
He disappeared back into the house, leaving Vanessa alone with her thoughts and the gentle rustle of leaves.
***
There was still one conversation she needed to have.
She had been delaying it but, it was time to discuss the situation with Lord Deane deserved better than to hear of her betrothal through the society pages.
She found him at his club.
It was unconventional, a lady calling at a gentleman's club, but Vanessa had sent a note ahead asking him to meet her in the small garden courtyard that adjoined the building. It was private enough for a difficult conversation, public enough to maintain propriety.
He was waiting when she arrived, standing beneath a trellis of climbing roses, his pleasant face drawn with apprehension.
"Lady Vanessa." He bowed over her hand. "Your note was... unexpected."
"I know. I apologise for the irregularity, but I felt this conversation should happen in person."
"I see." He released her hand and took a step back. "I suspect I know what you have come to say."
"Do you?"
"I saw you at the Castleton ball. With Lord Montehood." His voice was quiet, resigned. "I saw the way he looked at you during the supper waltz. The way you looked at him." He managed a small, sad smile. "I would have to be blind not to understand what that meant."
Guilt twisted in Vanessa's chest. "Lord Deane…Christopher…I am so sorry. I never meant to…"
"Please." He held up a hand. "Do not apologise.
You cannot help whom you hold affections for you, any more than I could help holding affections for you.
" The words were simple, without bitterness or recrimination.
"I had an inkling…even before the ball. I knew that your heart was elsewhere, even if I hoped I might change that. "
"You are a good man. The best of men. You deserve someone who can cherish you as you deserve to be."
"Perhaps." He was quiet for a moment, gazing at the roses that climbed the trellis behind her. "May I ask…is it official? You and Lord Montehood?"
"Yes. As of this afternoon."
"Then I wish you joy." He said it simply, sincerely. "I mean that, Lady Vanessa. Whatever disappointment I feel is my own burden to bear. It should not diminish your happiness."
"You are too kind."
"I am realistic." A ghost of his usual warmth flickered across his face. "I knew, when I began courting you, that I was competing against something…someone…I did not fully understand. I simply hoped that constancy might prevail where passion had not."
"It might have. If things had been different…"
"But they were not different. They were exactly as they were." He took her hand again, pressing it briefly between both of his. "Be happy, Lady Vanessa. That is all I ask. Be happy, and do not waste another moment on guilt or regret. Life is too short for either."
Her eyes were burning. She blinked rapidly, refusing to cry. "I will. I promise."
"Splendid.” He released her hand and stepped back. "And now, I believe I shall take myself off to the country for a few weeks. My estate has been neglected, and I find I am in need of fresh air and solitude."
"Christopher…"
"Do not worry about me. I am not as fragile as all that." His smile was steadier now, more genuine. "I shall recover. I always do. And who knows? Perhaps in the country I shall meet a young lady who thinks discussions of agricultural reform are romantic rather than merely tolerable."
A laugh escaped her, watery but real. "She would be very lucky."
"I like to think so." He bowed again, formal and correct. "Goodbye, Lady Vanessa. I hope our paths will cross again, when time has softened the edges of this conversation."
"I hope so too."
She watched him walk away, his shoulders straight, his step steady. He did not look back.
It was, she thought, exactly the sort of dignified exit she would have expected from him. Graceful, honourable, without a trace of self-pity or recrimination. He was a good man,perhaps too good for the world he inhabited.
She hoped he would find happiness. She hoped he would find someone who could appreciate his quiet virtues, his steady heart and his earnest devotion to things that mattered.
She hoped, most of all, that she had not hurt him too badly.
***
The evening brought another gathering at the Wayworth townhouse.
Word had spread quickly, as word always did in the ton and by dinner time, a steady stream of visitors had begun to arrive. Friends, acquaintances, curious gossips hungry for details they came in waves, filling the drawing room with chatter and congratulations.
Helena arrived shortly after six, her eyes bright with barely contained excitement.
"Tell me everything," she demanded, pulling Vanessa into a corner. "Every single detail. I want to know exactly what happened from the moment you left the ball until now."
"It is a long story."
"I have all evening."
So Vanessa told her. The bookshop, the confession, the teasing about the letters, Martin's declaration. Helena listened with rapt attention, interrupting only to gasp or exclaim or demand clarification on particularly romantic details.
"He quoted your letters back to you?" Helena pressed a hand to her heart. "That is either deeply romantic or deeply mortifying."
"Both. Definitely both."
"And the bit about your teenage enthusiasm for his shoulders?"
"I am trying very hard to forget that part."
"You should not. It is charming." Helena's smile softened. "He adores you, Vanessa he truly does. Anyone who memorises your embarrassing teenage prose is clearly besotted beyond all reason."
"I prefer to think he has simply lost all sense of propriety."
"That too." Helena squeezed her hand. "I am so happy for you for the both of you especially after everything…all those years of watching you two circle each other, it is wonderful to see you finally together."
"Thank you, Helena. For everything. For listening to me complain about him for years, for not telling me I was being ridiculous…"
"Oh, you were absolutely being ridiculous. You both were. But that is what friends are for, to tolerate each other's ridiculousness without comment." She grinned. "Well, mostly without comment."
Across the room, Martin caught Vanessa's eye. He was trapped in conversation with Lady Haberton, who was no doubt extracting every possible detail about the betrothal for later announcement, but he managed to send her a look of such desperate longing that she nearly laughed aloud.
"Go rescue him," Helena said. "Lady Haberton has been talking for at least ten minutes without pause. He looks like he might expire."
"He is a duke. I have no doubt he possesses the necessary authority to manage Lady Haberton.”
"He is a man who is in the throes of his adoration for you. He can handle nothing except staring at you from across rooms." Helena gave her a gentle push. "Go. I shall entertain myself by watching your mother interrogate Lord Hartwell about his nephew's marriageability."
Vanessa crossed the room, weaving through clusters of guests, until she reached Martin's side. Lady Haberton was mid-sentence when she arrived.
"…and of course, everyone has been simply dying to know the details. The announcement came as quite a shock, I must say. We had all thought Lord Montehood would never settle down, and then suddenly…"
"Lady Haberton." Vanessa smiled sweetly. "I do apologise for interrupting, but I need to steal my fiancé away. Family matter, I'm afraid."
"Oh! Of course, of course." Lady Haberton fluttered, clearly torn between disappointment and the thrill of being the first to report that Lady Vanessa had referred to the Duke as her fiancé. "We must speak more later, Lord Montehood. I have so many questions."
"I look forward to it," Martin said, in a tone that suggested he looked forward to nothing less.
Vanessa took his arm and steered him toward the relative privacy of the window alcove.
"My hero," he murmured. "I was beginning to lose the will to live."
"You seemed to be managing."
"I was reciting mathematical equations in my head to stay conscious." He pulled her slightly behind a curtain, out of sight of the room. "Do you know how many people have asked me about our wedding date? At least fifteen. I did not know that many people cared about my matrimonial plans."
"You are a duke. Everyone cares about your matrimonial plans."
"Tedious." He leaned against the window frame, tugging her closer. "I preferred it when everyone thought I was an irredeemable rake. At least then they left me alone."
"You will adjust."
"I will tolerate it. There is a difference." His eyes softened as he looked at her. "Though I suppose if this is the price of having you, it is worth paying."
"Such flattery."
"I am merely being honest." He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You are the only good thing about this evening, Vanessa. The only thing that makes any of it bearable."
"Now you are being dramatic."
"I am being truthful. The drama is incidental." He smiled that private smile she was learning to recognise, the one he reserved only for her. "Have I told you today that I simply cherish you?"
"Several times."
"Then I shall tell you again." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur.