"No," she said firmly. "Whatever he has to tell me, it won't change how I feel."
"Then you have nothing to worry about." Helena smiled and rose from the vanity. "Now come. We should return to the ball before people start to talk. Well, talk more than they already are. Your extended absence has probably been noted by half the matrons in attendance."
"What will I say if someone asks where I've been?"
"You felt faint. The heat of the ballroom. Perfectly understandable after your recent injury." Helena linked her arm through Vanessa's. "Leave the lying to me. I'm much better at it than you are."
They made their way back to the ballroom together, Helena keeping up a stream of bright chatter designed to deflect any curious looks. The supper was in full swing; most guests were occupied with food and conversation, paying little attention to their return.
Vanessa found a seat at a table with her mother and several of her mother's friends, who were too engrossed in gossip to pay her much attention. She ate without tasting the food. She smiled and nodded at appropriate moments. She pretended to be present, engaged and normal.
But her mind was elsewhere. Her mind was on a dark terrace, in a pair of strong arms, pressed against a pair of warm lips.
He is devoted to me
He has always held me in high regard.
And I cherish him with all my heart.
She had said that. She had meant it. And tomorrow…tomorrow she would discover what came next.
The thought was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
It was everything.
***
The ball wound to its inevitable conclusion.
Vanessa danced two more sets, obligation dances, with gentlemen her mother had arranged. She smiled and made small talk and counted the minutes until she could escape.
Lord Deane did not approach her again. She saw him once, across the room, watching her with an expression of quiet resignation. Their eyes met briefly; he inclined his head in acknowledgment, then looked away.
He knew. Somehow, he knew.
She would speak to him tomorrow. After she spoke to Martin. After she understood what her future held.
She owed him that much, at least.
The carriages were called at midnight. The Wayworths made their farewells to Lord and Lady Castleton, to various acquaintances and the endless parade of people who seemed to require acknowledgment. Edward was conspicuously silent beside her, his expression thoughtful as he processed the events of the evening.
In the carriage, Lady Wayworth chattered about the evening's successes, who had worn what, who had danced withwhom, which matches seemed imminent, which scandals were brewing beneath the surface of polite society.
"Lady Haberton's daughter was seen in the garden with Lord Hartley's younger son, can you imagine? After everything that family has been through this season. And did you notice Miss Crawford's gown? Entirely inappropriate for an unmarried lady. I don't know what her mother was thinking..."
Vanessa listened with half an ear, contributing nothing. Her thoughts were elsewhere…on a dark terrace, in a pair of strong arms, pressed against a pair of warm lips. Her skin still tingled where Martin had touched her. Her heart still raced when she thought of the things he had said.
He cherishes me.
He has wanted nothing but me.
I am the only one who could make him happy.
"You're very quiet," her mother observed eventually. "Are you feeling unwell?"
"Just tired."
"It was a long evening. But a successful one, I believe." Lady Wayworth smiled with satisfaction. "Lord Deane was very attentive. I noticed him watching you all night. I believe we can expect a formal offer within the week."
