"Perhaps you should retire early. I am certain Martin will not take offense."
"I am not offended in the least," Martin said. "But I confess I would be disappointed. The evening is still young, and I had hoped to hear about Lady Vanessa's childhood misadventures. You promised to provide commentary."
Edward groaned. "I promised nothing of the sort."
"You implied it strongly. I consider that a binding agreement."
"You are impossible."
"So I have been told. Repeatedly." Martin turned to Vanessa, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Come now, Lady Vanessa. Surely there is some entertaining tale from your youth that your brother has been unfairly suppressing."
"There are many," Vanessa said. "But most of them reflect poorly on Edward, which is why he is so eager to change the subject."
"I resent that characterisation."
"The truth often stings."
Martin laughed…a genuine laugh, warm and unguarded. "I see that an injured ankle has not dulled your wit."
"It would take more than a sprained ankle to accomplish that."
"I do not doubt it. You are formidable, Lady Vanessa. I have always admired that about you."
The compliment caught her off guard. Martin did not offer compliments easily, and when he did, they were usually wrapped in irony. But there was no irony in his voice now. Only sincerity, and something else…something that looked almost like tenderness.
"Thank you," she said, uncertain how else to respond.
"You need not thank me for stating the obvious." He held her gaze for a moment, then turned to Edward. "Now, about those childhood stories…"
"No," Edward said firmly. "Absolutely not. If you want embarrassing tales about Vanessa, you will have to extract them from her yourself. I refuse to participate."
"How disappointing. And here I thought you were a good friend."
"I am an excellent friend. Which is precisely why I am protecting my sister from your interrogation."
"Interrogation is rather a strong word. I prefer to think of it as gentle enquiry."
"There is nothing gentle about you, Martin. You are a menace."
"Flattery will get you nowhere."
Vanessa listened to their banter with a smile she could not quite suppress. This was what she had always loved about their friendship and the ease of it, the way they could tease each other without malice. Edward was the closest thing Martin had to a brother, and she had always been grateful that her own brother had found such a loyal companion.
But tonight, for the first time, she found herself wishing she could be something more than Edward's sister in Martin's eyes. Something more than the girl who threw cushions and argued about poetry.
Something like an equal. A partner.
A possibility.
***
After dinner, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room while the gentlemen remained with their port. It was a tiresome convention, but Vanessa was almost grateful for the respite. She needed time to compose herself, to smooth the edges of her emotions before facing Martin again.
Her mother, of course, had other ideas.
"He is very attentive to you," Lady Wayworth observed as soon as they were settled. "Lord Montehood. I noticed how solicitous he was at dinner."
"He was merely being polite."
