What had just happened? What had any of that meant? For a very brief moment, she had glimpsed something beneath the surface. Something that suggested Martin Hale might not be quite as indifferent to her as she had always believed.
But that was impossible and merely the wishful thinking of a foolish girl who had spent six years nurturing feelings that would never be returned.
"Vanessa?" Helena appeared at her side, her expression concerned. "You look rather pale. Has something unpleasant transpired?”
“No…not at all,” She answered as calmly as she could.
"I am in need of air. Will you accompany me to the terrace?"
The terrace was blissfully cool after the heat of the ballroom, with the night air carrying the scent of her mother's roses.Vanessa gripped the stone balustrade and breathed deeply, willing her racing heart to slow.
“Would it afford you any relief to speak of what has passed?” Helena asked gently.
"There is nothing to discuss. I danced with the Duke of Montehood. It was precisely as insufferable as every other dance I have shared with him."
"Was it?"
"Yes." No. She did not know. "He said things. Confusing things. Things that almost sounded like…" She stopped, unable to complete the thought.
"Like what?"
Like he wanted me. Like he saw me as something more than Edward's little sister. Like beneath all that arrogance and mockery, there was something real.
"Nothing," she said firmly. "It was nothing. He had too much champagne and was amusing himself at my expense, as he always does. How vastly absurd of me to have fancied there was any deeper meaning.”
Helena was quiet for a long moment and then asked gently "Are you quite certain?"
"I am certain of nothing where Martin Hale is concerned. I have never been certain of anything. That is precisely the problem."
They stood in silence, watching the stars emerge one by one. Inside, the ball continued with music and laughter and the endless swirl of society. Out here, there was only the quiet of the garden and the weight of questions Vanessa did not know how to answer.
"Lord Deane seems very attentive," Helena offered finally. "He would make a good husband."
"Yes. He would."
"But?"
Vanessa closed her eyes. "But he is not…" She stopped herself. “It is of no consequence, I assure you." Lord Deane is kind and steady and everything I should want. I would be a fool to refuse him simply because he does not make my heart race or my temper flare."
"Would you?"
"Helena." Vanessa turned to face her friend. "Please. I am weary of these veiled inquiries. Pray, lay aside this mystery and speak your mind plainly, if you please.”
Helena hesitated, then spoke with uncharacteristic directness.
“Very well then…it is my belief that the Duke of Montehood possesses your heart, and has done so for an age,’
“You are using Lord Deane as your sanctuary, I fear…a means to guard yourself against feelings you dare not acknowledge even to your own soul.”
The words hung in the air between them, sharp and undeniable.
"That is absurd," Vanessa said, but her voice lacked conviction.
"Is it?" Helena's gaze was gentle but unflinching. "You speak of Lord Montehood more than any other man of your acquaintance. You claim to find him insufferable, yet you dance with him at every opportunity. You watch him across crowded rooms when you think no one is looking. And just now, on the terrace, you looked as though someone had handed you everything you ever wanted and then snatched it away."
Vanessa's throat tightened. "Even if what you say is true and I am not admitting that it is, it changes nothing. Martin sees me as Edward's little sister. A child to be teased and tolerated. Nothing more."
"Are you certain of that?"
