"Edward is not the one who decides with whom I…" She stopped herself, aware that they were in the middle of a crowded ballroom, surrounded by hundreds of watching eyes.
"Whom you what?" Martin's voice was barely a whisper.
"Whom I want."
The waltz was ending. The final notes of the music hung in the air, trembling. The other couples were beginning to separate, to move toward the supper room.
Martin and Vanessa stood frozen, still in waltz position, neither willing to let go.
"We should…" she started.
"The terrace." His voice was low, urgent. "Please. I need to say something. I cannot say it here."
She should refuse. She should go to supper like a proper lady, sit with the other guests and make polite conversation. She should not follow a gentleman onto a dark terrace during a ball.
She took his arm.
***
He steered her away from the supper room, through a set of French doors, onto the stone terrace beyond.
The night was cold, late autumn, the stars sharp and clear overhead. The terrace was mostly empty at this hour; most guests had proceeded to supper. A few couples lingered in the shadows, murmuring to each other, but Martin guided her past them to a secluded corner, hidden from view by a large potted evergreen.
He released her arm and began to pace.
Vanessa watched him, her heart pounding. He was agitated in a way she had never seen before, running his hands through his hair, destroying the careful arrangement his valet had laboured over. The urbane, controlled Duke of Montehood had vanished. In his place was someone raw, someone desperate.
Someone real.
"I have tried," he said finally, his voice rough. “I have stayed away from you. I have avoided your company. I have told myself a thousand times that you deserve better, someone without my reputation, someone without my history…"
"Martin…"
"I have watched you dance with Deane." He was still pacing, unable to remain still. "I have watched you smile at him, listento him, let him court you. And I have said nothing. Because I thought…I told myself…" He stopped, faced her. "I told myself that your happiness was more important than my own. That if you chose him, I would accept it. I would find a way to bear it."
"And now?"
"Now he has spoken to your father. Now it is real." His voice cracked on the word. "And I find that I cannot bear it after all. I cannot stand by and say nothing while you pledge yourself to a man who will never…who could never…"
"Never what?"
“To be possessed with such an affection for you as I am, my heart can admit no other thought.”
The words fell into the silence like stones into still water. Vanessa could not breathe. Could not move. Could not do anything but stare at him as the meaning of what he had said washed over her.
“I have held you in great esteem for six years,” Martin said, the confession spilling out of him now like water through a broken dam. "Since the day you threw a cushion at my head and called me an insufferable pedant. I have cherished you through every argument, every dance, and every miserable moment of pretending I felt nothing. And I am tired, Vanessa. I am so tired of pretending."
Six years.The words echoed in her mind. She had written those same words, in those same letters.I haveheld him in high esteem him for six years.Had he read them? Was that why he was suddenly…
She opened her mouth to speak, but he continued, the words tumbling over each other in their urgency.
"I know I am not what you deserve. I know my reputation is tarnished, my history questionable. I know your family would prefer Lord Deane, with his spotless character and his respectable fortune. But I cannot…" He took a shudderingbreath. "I cannot watch you wed him. I cannot smile and offer congratulations while my heart is breaking. I cannot spend the rest of my life wondering what might have been if I had only found the courage to speak."
"Martin…"
"So I am speaking." He stepped closer, close enough that she could see the rapid pulse beating in his throat. "I am telling you the truth, even though it terrifies me. My heart is yours, it has always been yours .I have always loved you. And if there is any chance…any chance at all…that you might feel something for me in return, I am begging you to tell me. Because I cannot go on like this. I cannot…"
"Yes."
