"Recently." She refused to look away, refused to let him see how much his dismissiveness stung. "Lord Deane has a way of making even complex topics accessible and interesting."
"Does he now?" The words were flat, almost toneless. "How fortunate for you."
"It is fortunate. It is refreshing to speak with someone who does not assume that women are incapable of understanding practical matters."
The hit was palpable, and his composure was quite overset. She observed the slight tightening of Martin's jaw, the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes. For a moment, his mask slipped, revealing something raw beneath, something that looked almost like hurt.
But then it was gone, smoothed away as quickly as it had appeared.
"I have never assumed you incapable of anything, Vanessa." His voice was quiet, stripped of its usual sardonic edge. "Quite the opposite, in fact."
The use of her name, just Vanessa, without the teasing …found her completely unprepared and off guard.
"There are many things about me you do not know, Lord Montehood," she said, trying to regain her footing.
Martin's eyes held hers for a long moment, long enough for the rest of the table to fade away, long enough for her heart to begin racing in her chest. There was something in his gaze that she could not read, something that made her feel exposed in ways she did not understand.
"No," he said finally, his voice soft. "I suppose there are."
Before she could respond, Edward's voice cut through the tension.
"Martin, stop monopolising my sister and tell everyone about the time you accidentally challenged Lord Petersham to a duel."
The moment shattered.
"I did not challenge him to a duel," Martin said, turning smoothly to address the table. "There was a misunderstanding about a horse."
The conversation flowed on, carrying them away from the charged moment that had passed between them. Vanessa focused on her food and tried to slow her racing pulse.
It was nothing,she told herself.Just another of our verbal sparring matches. It meant nothing.
But Martin did not look at her for the rest of the main course.
And somehow, that felt like it meant everything.
***
After dinner, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room while the gentlemen remained for port.
Vanessa felt a surge of relief to leave the table.
She settled onto the settee beside Helena, accepting a cup of tea from her mother with a murmured thanks. Lady Wayworth was already deep in conversation with Mrs. Crawford about some social event or another, and Aunt Bertha had claimed the chair by the fire, her knitting needles clicking rhythmically.
"Well," Helena said quietly, leaning close so as not to be overheard. "That was certainly an interesting dinner."
"Was it? I found it rather ordinary."
"Vanessa." Helena's voice was gentle but firm. "I have known you for ten years. You cannot hide the truth from me.”
"I am not trying to hide the truth from you,”
"You most certainly are…and you are not doing a good job either.” Helena set down her teacup with a soft clink. "Something happened at that table between you and the Duke."
"Nothing happened,we talked…we argued…nothing out of the ordinary.”
"That was not your usual arguing. I saw the way he was looking at you…"
"He was not looking at me in any particular way."
