"They do. I have never seen Edward so... attentive."
"True affection does that to a man." Lord Deane's voice was soft. "Makes him want to be better than he is."
The soup course arrived, providing a welcome distraction from the increasingly weighted conversation. Vanessa focused on her food, though she was intensely aware of Martin's presence beside her, the warmth of him, the subtle scent of sandalwood, the way his hand rested on the table mere inches from her own.
He had been quiet since they sat down, contributing little to the general conversation. It was unlike him. Martin was usually the center of any gathering, holding court with his wit and charm. Tonight, he seemed... subdued and watchful.
"You are quiet this evening, Martin." Edward's voice carried across the table. "It is most unsettling. I keep waiting for some devastating observation."
"Apologies. I was merely contemplating the soup." Martin's tone was light, but there was something behind it that Vanessa could not quite identify. "It is excellent soup."
"It is brown soup. There is nothing remarkable about it."
"On the contrary. Brown soup requires a delicate balance of flavors. Too much beef and it becomes heavy; too little and it lacks depth. This…" He gestured with his spoon. "This is perfectly balanced."
"I did not realise you were such a connoisseur of soup."
"I am a connoisseur of many things." Martin's eyes flickered briefly to Vanessa before returning to Edward. "One must cultivate diverse interests to remain interesting."
"Good gracious should you ever be anything less than interesting."
"Exactly. I knew you would understand."
The exchange was so perfectly normal, so exactly like every other conversation she had witnessed between them over the years that Vanessa felt some of the tension drain from her shoulders. This was Martin. This was how he always was. There was nothing different about tonight.
He does not know,she told herself again.Everything is well.
"Speaking of interesting," Edward continued, a mischievous glint entering his eye, "Martin, do you remember the pond incident?"
Oh no.
"The pond incident?" Martin's expression shifted into something that looked almost like anticipation. "How could I forget?"
"What pond incident?" Lord Deane asked, clearly eager to be included in the conversation.
"It is nothing," Vanessa said quickly. "A silly childhood story…"
"Vanessa was twelve," Edward said, ignoring her completely. "And absolutely convinced that she could walk across the lily pads in our garden pond."
"I was not convinced…"
"Like a fairy princess, she said." Martin picked up the thread seamlessly, as though they had rehearsed this a hundred times. Which, given how often they told this story, they essentially had. "She had read some story about water sprites or woodland nymphs or some such nonsense, and she decided that if she was pure of heart, the lily pads would hold her weight."
"That is not what…"
"She marched right up to the edge of the pond," Edward continued, steamrolling over her protests, "in this white dress…"
"Mother's favorite dress," Martin added, his eyes glinting with wicked amusement.
"Mother's absolute favorite dress, covered in lace and ribbons and probably worth more than my quarterly allowance. And Vanessa had decided that this dress, specifically, was the appropriate attire for testing the structural integrity of vegetation."
"It was a scientific experiment," Vanessa muttered, but no one was listening.
"And she stepped onto the first lily pad with complete confidence." Martin's voice had taken on the cadence of a natural storyteller, rich with barely suppressed laughter. "Declaring…and I quote, that she was 'light as a feather and pure of heart.'"
"The pure of heart part was important," Edward added. "Apparently in whatever story she had read, only the pure of heart could walk on lily pads. So naturally, our Vanessa assumed she qualified."
"She was very confident in her moral superiority," Martin agreed. "Even at the age of twelve."
