Lady Cowper smiled sweetly, patted his arm and drifted away.
Martin met her gaze-and smiled, lionishly. Just how dangerous the shift in sentiment threatened to be was brought home when Countess Lieven tapped her on the wrist with her fan. She nodded regally at Martin, engaged with Lord Woolley. "I am pleased that you have finally settled your interest. Flitting forever through the ton's gentlemen might be acceptable at eighteen, but at twenty-three…" She raised her brows haughtily. "Suffice it to say that an alliance with Dexter would find general favor. There is, of course, the old scandal, but…" With a shrug, she continued, "One would expect you to see that buried, one way or another."
With a stiff nod, the countess swanned off, leaving Amanda staring in her wake. One way or another?
She knew what that meant-that she should marry Martin, keep her head high and bear him an heir or three, and make sure neither he nor she caused another scandal. Redemption through association; if she remained as pure as the driven snow, his supposed transgressions would be overlooked.
The thought horrified her. She turned back to Martin to find him frowning at her, then he transferred his frown to Countess Lieven's back. "What did that harridan say?"
She could almost see his hackles rising. "Nothing, nothing. There are the violins-come and dance."
She succeeded in dragging him onto the dance floor; he allowed her to distract him but was not deceived. As she whirled in his arms, some part of her whispered that perhaps she should give in. He'd come into the ton after her, braved the bright lights and the hostesses to win her-did she need more declaration than that?
The answer was an unequivocal yes. She wanted a clear acknowledgment that he loved her, and she'd seen nothing resembling that. And there was a bigger hurdle yet-one that wouldn't bend to either her will or his. Not even society's. Her family was not convinced-at least, not convinced enough to agree to her marrying him.
She'd only recently realized, only recently seen the frown in her mother's eyes, noticed the whispered conferences between her mother and her aunts. As the music died, she felt a strong urge to rub her forehead. Her straightforward, easy-to-navigate world had suddenly developed unexpected reefs and shoals.
"Here! Gel!"
Amanda turned. Lady Osbaldestone was sitting on a chaise nearby.
"Yes, you!" Her ladyship beckoned with her cane. "I want to speak with you."
Martin by her side, she crossed to the chaise.
"Sit down." Lady Osbaldestone indicated the chaise beside her. Then she looked at Martin and smiled. Evilly. "You can fetch me a glass of orgeat, and a glass of water for Miss Cynster. She'll be grateful for it later."
Impossible to refuse. Martin accepted the commission with good grace, bowed, and headed for the refreshment room.
"So nice to know I guessed right." Facing Amanda, Lady Osbaldestone studied her. "Well? Have you decided yet?"
Meeting those black, bottomless eyes, Amanda sighed. "I've decided-and so has he, obviously-but…"
"In my experience, there usually is a but. What's it in this case? And for God's sake, cut line-he won't be long."
Amanda dragged in a breath. "There's two buts. The first is, not if he loves me-I'm as sure as I can be that he does but if he knows he loves me. The second might be more serious, more insurmountable. The scandal is still there. I know the ton will gloss over it, but I don't think my family will."
Lady Osbaldestone nodded. "You're right. They won't. You may trust me on that. However, you're wrong about what's serious and what's not." She caught Amanda's gaze and leaned nearer. "Listen, and listen well. You're absolutely right in digging in your heels and demanding an acknowledgment, at least between the pair of you, that he loves you. I presume that's what this week's been about? That he's followed you into the ton to force your hand?"
Amanda nodded. "Exactly."
"A good sign, but whatever you do, don't waver. Don't let him, or anyone or anything, turn you from your purpose."
Her ladyship glanced up; Amanda followed her gaze and saw Martin wending his way back to them.
Lady Osbaldestone spoke quickly. "As for the scandal, you'll have to trust my reading of him and his family, but the scandal will only be resolved if he wishes it, and he'll only wish it for a reason more compelling than all the reasons to let dead scandals lie, and for him there will be a few of those."
Martin was nearing; Lady Osbaldestone's black eyes bored into Amanda's. "Do you follow, gel?" Her clawlike hand tightened on Amanda's wrist. "There's only one reason I can see that will ever be important enough to make him seek to clear his name."
Easing back, Lady Osbaldestone smiled and accepted her glass of orgeat. Martin looked at her, then at Amanda. He offered the glass of water he'd brought.
Amanda accepted it with a vague nod, and drained it.
Chapter 14
In the days and evenings that followed, Amanda increasingly felt like an antelope cut out from the herd by a lion. A lionized lion-even worse. That fact dealt him far too many aces, which he was never slow to use.
She'd taken to urging her mother and sister to arrive early at every major event so she could assemble a useful circle of gentlemen to serve as a screen. She accepted that she had to deal with Martin, that she could do nothing other than to wait him out, holding steadfast in her requirement for "something more."