Lady Wayworth departed with that cryptic pronouncement, leaving Vanessa alone with her reflection and her churning thoughts.
She stared at herself in the mirror, the careful curls, the modest pearls and the dress of deep green that her mother had selected for its "appropriateness." She looked, she thought, like exactly what she was supposed to be: a respectable younglady of good family, preparing to entertain potential suitors and maintain social connections.
She did not look like a woman who had spent six years documenting the outpourings of her soul to a man who would be sitting at her dinner table in less than an hour.
He has not read them,she reminded herself for the hundredth time.He acted completely normal when he visited. He does not know.
Her reassurance was feeble but she had to believe that.
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and prepared to face the evening ahead.
You can do this,she told herself.You have been doing this for years. One more dinner is nothing.
But even as she thought it, she knew this dinner would be different.
Because everything felt different now.
Even if nothing had actually changed.
***
The guests began arriving at half after seven.
The Crawfords came first, Helena in a gown of soft blue that complemented her coloring beautifully, her parents trailing behind with the slightly bewildered air of people who were not entirely certain how they had ended up at a dinner party with a duke. Mrs. Crawford kept smoothing her skirts and glancing around the entrance hall as though she expected to find fault with something but could not quite locate it. Mr. Crawford simply looked as though he wished he were somewhere else, preferably somewhere with fewer social obligations and more opportunity to discuss shipping investments.
Helena caught Vanessa's eye across the entrance hall and gave her a small, questioning look.
To reassure herself that her friend was well.
Vanessa nodded, hoping her expression conveyed more confidence than she felt.
"You look lovely," Helena murmured when they had a moment alone. "That green brings out your eyes."
"My mother chose it. She has opinions about which colors are appropriate for attracting potential husbands."
"Ah. So this is a husband-attracting ensemble?"
"According to her, everything I wear should be a husband-attracting ensemble. I am beginning to think she would have me attend balls in nothing but a sign that reads 'available and desperate.'"
Helena laughed, a soft, surprised sound that drew an approving glance from Lady Wayworth. "You are hardly desperate. You have Lord Deane quite under your spell.”
"Lord Deane is interested. That is not the same as his being captivated by me.”
“He looked upon you as though you were the very sun in his skies, Vanessa. If he is not utterly captivated by your charms, I do not know what is.”
Before Vanessa could respond, the front door opened again, admitting Lord Deane himself.
He arrived punctual as was customary, bearing a small bouquet of hothouse flowers that he presented to Lady Wayworth with a graceful bow.
"For the hostess," he said. "A small token of appreciation for including me in this evening's gathering."
"How thoughtful, Lord Deane." Lady Wayworth accepted the flowers with evident pleasure, shooting Vanessa a meaningful look that clearly saidthis is the kind of man you should be encouraging.
"Lady Vanessa." Lord Deane turned to her, and something in his demeanor shifted and became warmer, more relaxed."You look lovely this evening. That shade of green suits you admirably."
"Thank you, Lord Deane. You are too kind."
"I am merely observant." His smile was genuine, reaching his eyes in a way that suggested he actually meant the compliment. "I have been looking forward to this evening. A smaller gathering allows for more meaningful conversation, do you not agree?"
