Had she imagined it? Had she projected her own feelings onto his actions, interpreting ordinary courtesy as something more?
She did not think so. She did not think she had imagined the tremor in his hands, the catch in his breath, the way his pupils had dilated when their eyes met. Those were not the reactions of a man performing a medical examination. Those were the reactions of a man who was struggling to maintain control.
And tonight the way he had held her hand, the way his lips had lingered against her knuckles, the rawness in his voice when he spoke of truths and confessions…
Hope, once kindled, was difficult to extinguish. And tonight, against all reason and expectation, hope had taken root in her heart.
She thought about Edward's words. About his observation that Martin had never looked at anyone the way he looked at her. About his offer of blessing, should Martin choose to court her.
Whatever happens…whatever you decide…know that I support you.
Had Edward seen something she had missed? Had he recognised, in his friend, a regard that Martin himself had not acknowledged?
Or was this all wishful thinking, the desperate fantasy of a woman who had spent seven years wanting something she could never have?
She did not know. She could not know, not without some definitive sign, some unambiguous declaration.
But Martin had spoken of truths. He had spoken of things that could not be unsaid. And he had held her hand as though releasing it might break him.
Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow she would think about this more clearly. Tomorrow she would consider the implications, the complications and the thousand reasons why this could never work. There was still Lord Deane to consider…kind, attentive Lord Deane, who had done nothing wrong and did not deserve to be cast aside. There were the expectations of Society, the whispers that would follow if the notorious Duke of Montehood suddenly began courting his best friend's sister. There was Martin's reputation, and her own, and the delicate web of propriety that governed their world.
But tonight she would let herself believe.
Tonight she would let herself hope.
And when sleep finally claimed her, it was with a smile on her lips and Martin's name on her breath.
***
The next morning dawned grey and overcast, but Vanessa woke with a strange lightness in her chest.
Something had changed. She could feel it…a shift in the atmosphere, a new possibility hovering on the horizon. Nothing had been spoken, nothing had been declared, and yet everything was different. The world looked brighter, somehow. More full of promise.
She rang for her maid and dressed with unusual care, choosing a morning gown of soft yellow muslin that brought out the warm tones in her hair. Her ankle was much improved though it was still tender, but she could walk on it without significant discomfort. Perhaps, if she was careful, she might venture into the garden today. The fresh air would do her good.
She was just finishing her breakfast when the butler appeared with a card on a silver tray.
"Lord Deane has called, my lady. Shall I show him in?"
Vanessa's lightness dimmed slightly. She had been expecting this,Lord Deane had sent word yesterday that he intended to call this morning, but the timing felt unfortunate. She was not ready to face him. Not with her thoughts still full of Martin, her heart still racing from the memory of his lips against her hand.
But she could not refuse to see him. It would be rude, and besides, her mother would never forgive her.
"Yes," she said. "Show him to the morning room. I shall join him shortly."
She took a moment to compose herself, smoothing her expression into pleasant neutrality. Whatever had happened with Martin, whatever might happen in the future, Lord Deane deserved her courtesy. He had been nothing but kind, and she owed him at least the appearance of attention.
But as she made her way to the morning room, leaning slightly on her cane, she could not help but notice that her heart did not race at the prospect of seeing him. Her breath did not catch. Her skin did not prickle with awareness.
She felt only a mild fondness, tempered by guilt.
It was not fair to him. None of this was fair to him.
And yet she did not know how to make it right, not when her heart had chosen someone else, someone who might, against all odds, have chosen her in return.
Lord Deane was standing by the window when she entered, his pleasant face brightening at the sight of her.
"Lady Vanessa! You look well. I was so concerned when I heard of your accident…I wanted to call immediately, but I did not wish to intrude while you were recovering."
