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"You are most kind," Meredith replied neutrally, extracting her hand as politely as possible. "Though I fear I may not stay for much of the dancing. The journey back to Oxford requires an early start tomorrow."

Townsend's smile faltered. "Surely you cannot mean to leave so soon? The wedding festivities are scheduled to continue for two more days at least."

"I've already extended my absence from Oxford longer than I prefer," she explained. "With Faith and Jasper embarking on their new life, my presence is no longer necessary."

"A pity," Townsend murmured, his disappointment evident. "I had hoped for more opportunity to convince you of my sincere admiration."

From the corner of her eye, Meredith noticed Chilton watching their exchange, his expression unreadable. When their gazes met briefly, he inclined his head in acknowledgment before turning to respond to something Lady Thornfield was saying.

The afternoon blurred into a series of congratulations, conversations, and observations of the new couple's happiness.

Faith and Jasper moved among their guests with gracious smiles, their hands often finding each other as if unable to bear even momentary separation.

Watching them, Meredith felt a complicated mixture of joy for her friend and a wistfulness she was reluctant to examine too closely.

As evening approached, the ballroom was cleared for dancing. Jasper led Faith onto the floor for the first waltz, their movements flowing with practiced elegance. Other couples soon joined them, and Meredith found herself watching from the sidelines, content in her role as observer.

"Would you honour me with this dance, Miss Martin?"

She turned to find Chilton beside her, his hand extended in invitation. The formal words could not disguise the warmth in his eyes, nor the slight tension in his posture that suggested he wasn't entirely certain of her response.

"I would be delighted, Lord Sutcliffe," she replied, placing her hand in his.

As they took their places in the formation, Meredith was acutely conscious of Caroline's narrowed gaze from across the room.

When the music began, however, such concerns receded.

Chilton led with confident grace, his hand at her waist providing gentle guidance through the turns and steps of the dance.

"You mentioned departing tomorrow," he said as they moved through the pattern. "So soon?"

"My work in Oxford awaits," she replied, surprised at how easily they fell into rhythm together. "And I've accomplished what I came for—seeing Faith happily married."

"Is that all you came for?" His question carried layers of meaning beneath its surface.

Meredith met his gaze directly. "I didn't come seeking patrons for my school, if that's what you're asking, though I'm grateful for the unexpected support."

"That wasn't my meaning," Chilton said quietly. "Before we were interrupted this morning, I was attempting to express something of greater importance."

Her heart quickened. "And what was that, my lord?"

The music swelled around them as they turned, other couples momentarily obscuring them from view. In that brief pocket of privacy, Chilton's hand tightened slightly at her waist.

"That I find myself increasingly drawn to you, Miss Martin. To your intelligence, your conviction, your courage in pursuing what you believe is right. That perhaps, if you were willing, we might explore whether our different perspectives might complement rather than oppose each other."

Meredith nearly missed a step, startled by his directness. "Lord Sutcliffe—"

"Chilton, please," he interrupted. "At least when we speak privately."

"Chilton," she amended, the name feeling intimate on her lips. "Your sister has made her opinion of me abundantly clear. I have no wish to be the cause of family discord."

"Caroline doesn't dictate my choices," he replied, though something flickered in his expression that made Meredith wonder if he truly believed his own words.

"Doesn't she?" Meredith asked gently. "I've observed how quickly your position shifts when she appears. How can I trust that your interest now won't become polite distance tomorrow?"

The dance brought them to the edge of the floor, where they paused as the music reached a natural break. Chilton's expression grew serious.

"A fair question," he acknowledged. "One I'm not certain I can answer to your satisfaction at present. I am... working through matters that have guided my thinking for longer than I care to admit."

"I appreciate your honesty," Meredith said, genuinely moved by his admission. "But I must be equally honest. I cannot build castles on shifting sands. My work, my students—they require firm foundations."

Before Chilton could respond, a commotion near the refreshment table drew their attention. Caroline's voice carried clearly across the room.

"—absolutely scandalous," she was saying to Lady Thornfield, her voice pitched to carry. "Using a wedding celebration to pursue advantageous connections. One must admire the strategy, I suppose, if not the propriety."

Lady Thornfield looked uncomfortable. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Lady Hurst."

"Don't you?" Caroline's gaze swept meaningfully toward Meredith. "Some of us come to celebrate family unity. Others come to secure patronage and perhaps more ambitious alliances. Particularly when one's circumstances are... modest."

A hush fell over the nearest guests as they registered the target of Caroline's remarks. Meredith felt heat rise to her cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from rising indignation.

Chilton's posture stiffened beside her.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice tight with controlled anger. "It seems my sister requires a reminder about appropriate behaviour at a wedding celebration."

He strode toward Caroline with purpose in his step, but Meredith caught his arm.

"Don't," she said quietly. "Not here. Not now. This is Faith and Jasper's day—they deserve better than family quarrels disrupting their celebration."

Chilton hesitated, clearly torn between the wisdom of her words and his desire to address his sister's behaviour. At that moment, Faith approached, her newfound status as Lady Jasper Linford evident in the confident way she navigated the sudden tension.

"Lady Hurst," Faith said warmly, as if she hadn't overheard the cutting remarks. "I've been meaning to thank you for the lovely porcelain vase. Such exquisite taste—Jasper and I will treasure it."

Her gracious intervention created an opportunity for the uncomfortable moment to dissipate. Conversations gradually resumed, though Meredith could feel curious glances still directed her way.

"I should go speak with the newlyweds," she said to Chilton, needing distance to compose herself. "Thank you for the dance, my lord."

"Meredith—" he began, reverting to her Christian name in his concern.

"It's all right," she assured him, though they both knew it wasn't. "We all make choices about where our loyalties lie. Perhaps it's best mine remain with my work in Oxford, and yours with your family."

Before he could object, she moved away, threading through the crowd toward Faith and Jasper. Their happiness provided a welcome focus for her scattered emotions.

"I hope I haven't caused a scene at your wedding," she murmured to Faith when she reached them. "Lady Hurst seems determined to think the worst of me."

"Nonsense," Faith replied firmly. "Caroline Hurst creates her own scenes wherever she goes. No one of consequence pays her any mind."

Jasper nodded his agreement. "My family has known her for years—they're well acquainted with her tendency toward dramatic pronouncements."

"Nevertheless," Meredith said, "I think it best I depart early tomorrow, as planned. I've seen you married, which was my purpose in coming."

Faith's expression softened.

"If you feel that's best. Though I had hoped..." She glanced meaningfully in Chilton's direction.

"Some opportunities are not meant to be pursued," Meredith said quietly. "No matter how tempting they might appear."

The evening continued with toasts, more dancing, and the traditional cutting of the wedding cake. Throughout it all, Meredith maintained her composure, offering genuine smiles and warm congratulations while avoiding further interaction with either Chilton or his sister.

When the celebrations finally began to wind down near midnight, Meredith slipped away to her chamber, exhaustion settling over her like a heavy cloak.

The day had been filled with emotions both expected and surprising—joy for Faith, pride in her scholarly contribution, hurt at Caroline's public censure, and something more complicated regarding Chilton's apparent interest.

As she prepared for bed, a soft knock at her door revealed a maid bearing a folded note.

"From Lord Sutcliffe, miss," the girl said with a curtsey. "He asked that I deliver it directly to you."

Alone again, Meredith unfolded the paper with trembling fingers.

Miss Martin,

I deeply regret my sister's behaviour this evening and my own failure to address it appropriately. Please know that her words reflect neither my opinions nor those of the other guests who have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.

If you truly intend to depart tomorrow, I ask only for the chance to speak with you before you go. There are matters between us that deserve better resolution than the interrupted conversations we have managed thus far.

I shall be in the library at seven tomorrow morning, should you be willing to grant me this final request.

Yours, Chilton

Meredith read the note twice, her heart beating an unsteady rhythm against her ribs. The formal language could not disguise the emotion behind the words, nor the significance of his signing with his Christian name.

She set the paper on her dressing table, staring at it in the candlelight.

Tomorrow she would return to Oxford, to Sasha, to the practical work of establishing her school.

The sensible course would be to leave at first light, she could walk to the main road, perhaps enjoy the sunrise while she awaited the early coach avoiding further entanglement with a man whose family clearly considered her unsuitable.

Yet as she extinguished her candle and lay in the darkness, Meredith found herself contemplating what seven o'clock might bring. One final conversation could do no harm, surely? One opportunity to part with clarity rather than confusion.

Besides, she told herself as sleep began to claim her, it would be rude not to acknowledge his apology, even if she could offer nothing more than civility in return.

But the small, treacherous hope that flickered in her chest suggested her heart was not entirely convinced by her mind's rational arguments. And that, perhaps, was the most unsettling realization of all.