"This afternoon. He wanted me to know his intentions were sincere."
"I'm sure they are. Lord Deane is nothing if not sincere." The words should have been complimentary. They were not. "He's also persistent. I'll grant him that."
"You don't like him."
"I don't dislike him. I simply find him..." Martin paused, searching for the word. "Insufficient."
"Insufficient for what?"
"For you."
The words hung between them, weighted with meaning. Vanessa's breath caught.
Before she could respond, a rustle of silk announced the arrival of Lady Portsmith, who descended upon them with a brilliant smile.
"Montehood! I've been looking everywhere for you." She positioned herself between Martin and Vanessa with practiced skill, angling her body to exclude Vanessa from the conversation. "You've been avoiding me all evening. I'm quite put out."
"I've been circulating. As one does at these events."
"Circulating. Is that what you call it?" Lady Portsmith laughed, a tinkling sound that grated on Vanessa's nerves. "I call it hiding. But I've found you now, and I insist you dance the next set with me. I absolutely insist."
"I'm afraid I'm already engaged for the next."
"You always say that." Lady Portsmith pouted, her lower lip protruding in a way that was probably meant to be enticing. "One of these days I shall simply have to kidnap you and have you all to myself."
“I am quite overcome with apprehension at the very mention of it.”
His tone was dry, bordering on dismissive, but Lady Portsmith seemed not to notice. She laughed again and laid her hand on his arm with proprietary familiarity.
"Wicked man. You know I adore you."
"So you frequently remind me."
"Because it's true." She leaned closer, lowering her voice to an intimate murmur that was still perfectly audible to Vanessa. "Come to my box at the opera on Thursday. Just the two of us. We have so much to... discuss."
"I'm afraid I have a prior engagement on Thursday."
"Then Friday."
"Also engaged."
"Saturday?"
"Lady Portsmith." Martin's voice remained pleasant, but something in it had cooled. "I appreciate your invitations, but I must decline. I find my calendar rather full at present."
For a moment, Lady Portsmith's mask slipped. Something ugly flickered in her eyes…frustration, perhaps, or wounded pride. Then she recovered, her smile snapping back into place.
"Of course. How foolish of me." She patted his arm with forced lightness. "Another time, then."
She drifted away, her spine rigid with suppressed emotion. Martin watched her go with an expression of profound boredom.
"An admirer?" Vanessa asked, though she already knew the answer.
"A nuisance." He turned back to her, and the boredom vanished. In its place was something warm, something intent. "Shall I tell you a secret?"
"If you wish."
"Lady Portsmith has been pursuing me for three years. She is beautiful, wealthy, and entirely without scruple. She would make a perfectly acceptable mistress for any man who wanted such a thing."
