CHAPTER 11

Sylvia adjusted her position on the garden chair, feeling the soft breeze caress her face as she glanced around Lady Maria's beautifully arranged tea party. The garden was alive with the scent of blooming flowers and the soft hum of polite conversation. Seated next to Lord Marcus and directly across from Lord Wesley, she felt a mix of excitement and unease. It was a strange position to be in, and made even harder as she kept darting her eyes between the pair of them. She did not want to compare them, but the way that she felt as she caught Lord Wesley's eyes was certainly special.

Lord Marcus, with his ever charming smile, leaned closer, his eyes twinkling with interest. "So, Lady Sylvia, what have you been reading lately? I remember you mentioning that you enjoy novels."

Sylvia's eyes lit up at the opportunity to discuss her favorite topic. Since it had gone so well with Lord Wesley, she was hoping for a similar connection. "Oh, yes! Recently, I have been enjoying an interesting book by J.Austen."

Lord Marcus's smile widened, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely, a remarkable author. Lady Julie is such a fascinating author."

"Jane," Sylvia corrected him excitedly. "Lady Jane is wonderful! Through her nuanced characterizations, she captures the subtleties of emotion and social dynamics, offering a critical view of the society in which she lived. I am thoroughly enjoying it."

As she spoke, Sylvia noticed Lord Wesley's gaze occasionally drifting towards her. His eyes held a mixture of longing and something else she could not quite decipher. She pushed the thought aside, focusing on the conversation with Lord Marcus. She could not forget that it was Lord Wesley's mother who had shown her disdain, and she also had to recall that she might not be suitable for him.

Maybe not either of these men, but Lord Marcus was giving her positive attention.

"Indeed," Lord Marcus said, nodding. "I enjoyed the journey of reading one of her books."

Sylvia smiled, but a small doubt began to form in her mind. He was not saying too much about the actual text of the novel he had read, which was very unlike Lord Wesley. He had gone in to detail with her about works he enjoyed.

As Lord Marcus spoke, Sylvia began to notice a slight inconsistency in his responses. While he seemed enthusiastic, there was a vagueness to his comments, a lack of depth that someone truly familiar with the books would not exhibit. His charm was undeniable, but his understanding of the novels seemed superficial. Almost as if it was merely to impress her.

Determined not to let this dampen her spirits, Sylvia continued, steering the conversation towards broader topics. "It is fascinating how literature can offer such profound insights into human nature. Do you have any favourite authors, Lord Marcus?"

"Well," Lord Marcus began, pausing briefly, "I have always admired the works of J.Turner. His skill in depicting light and atmosphere is quite compelling."

Sylvia nodded, her enthusiasm genuine but impacted by her growing realization that there was not a lot of realness there.

As they continued their conversation, Sylvia could not help but continue to steal glances at Lord Wesley. He was engaged in a discussion with Lady Arabella, but his eyes frequently flickered towards her as well, as if there was a powerful magnet drawing them in together no matter what. There was a tension in his gaze, an intensity that she found both unsettling and intriguing.

Lord Marcus's voice drew her back before she could get too lost in her thoughts. "You have such a passion for literature, Lady Sylvia. It is truly admirable. Perhaps you could recommend something for me to read next?"

Sylvia smiled politely, sensing an opportunity to gently test his sincerity. "Certainly. Have you read any of Jane Austen's works? Sense and Sensibility is a particular favorite of mine. It beautifully explores the themes of love, friendship, and the contrast between reason and emotion. If you enjoy immersive texts, then that is one you should definitely consider."

"Ah, Sense and Sensibility," Marcus responded, his smile unwavering. "A wonderful choice. I shall make sure to read it soon."

Sylvia's eyes yet again drifted across the table to where Lord Wesley sat, his profile highlighted by the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. A mixture of emotions churned within her — longing, uncertainty, and a touch of envy. She reminded herself not to feel jealous of Lady Arabella, who sat beside him, her laughter light and melodious, drawing the attention of everyone around them. Lady Arabella was, after all, the Season's diamond. Her beauty and charm had made her the darling of high society, and she seemed a perfect match for someone of Lord Wesley's stature.

Sylvia could not help but feel a pang of inadequacy in comparison. Lord Arabella's grace was effortless, her confidence unwavering, while Sylvia often felt as though she was merely pretending to belong in such exalted company. The more time that she spent in polite society, the more of a fake she felt. This was a place she was never going to fit in.

With a quiet sigh, Sylvia forced her attention back to the conversation with Lord Marcus. He was being kind to her, sweet about her interests even if he did not seem to truly have them himself. There was a lot to be said about a man who was nice to her. especially with her reputation as it was.

"It is fascinating to hear what you have to say, Lady Sylvia," Lord Marcus said, his smile warm and genuine. "I think I could sit here and listen to you talk about absolutely anything. You have an inspiring way of talking about the things you are passionate about."

"Thank you, Lord Marcus," she replied, offering a polite smile. "That is truly kind of you to say. I am thoroughly enjoying talking with you as well."

As Lady Maria's voice rang out over the gathering, announcing the post tea activities, including a game of Shuttlecock and Battledore, Sylvia's attention was drawn to the lively scene unfolding around her. Guests began to rise from their seats, eager to participate or spectate in the games. Sylvia had played some of these games in the past, but she could not stop herself from being worried that she would not be able to participate in the way that the ton required.

Everything they did seemed different, and it was very hard for her to join in properly.

A tall gentleman approached Lord Marcus, interrupting his conversation with Sylvia, demanding a moment of his time. She noticed a brief flash of annoyance on Lord Marcus's face before he masked it with a smile, showing off his typical charm. "I am terribly sorry, Lady Sylvia, but a business matter requires my immediate attention," he said smoothly, excusing himself. "I will see you later on."

Sylvia nodded, a touch of puzzlement lingering as she watched Lord Marcus walk away with the gentleman. She turned back to the garden, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling his departure had left. Whatever his business matters were, they did not affect her.

"Good afternoon, Lady Sylvia," came a familiar voice from behind her. She turned to see George, who had left her aunt's side for just a moment, likely just to check in on her at her aunt's request. It was sweet of him to be so kind all the time.

"Good afternoon, George," she replied, offering him a warm smile. "Are you enjoying the party?"

George returned her smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. "As much as one can enjoy these social gatherings. But I must confess, I have some concerns. Especially regarding Lord Marcus."

Sylvia's eyebrows raised. "Concerns? Whatever do you mean?"

George did not seem the type to participate in idle gossip, so she was surprised by his statement. George glanced around, ensuring their conversation remained private before he spoke out once more. "I have heard unsettling things about Lord Marcus that I think you should know about. Especially as it seems like the two of you are close." He swallowed hard. "His reputation at the gambling tables is well known, which has led to rumours suggesting that he is seeking out an advantageous match. One that can help him with his mounting debts."

Sylvia felt a chill at George's words. "I see," she murmured, her mind racing with the implications. Clearly he was making a mistake with her because she did not have the advantageous connections he was potentially looking for. But she trusted what George was saying to her, and could only assume that Lord Marcus did not know. She might have a dowry, courtesy of Aunt Grace, but that did not mean he would get what he wanted from her.

Before she could delve further into the topic with George, Lord Wesley approached, a hopeful smile lighting up his features. Instantly, her pulse began to race at the speed of light. She shifted her position, trying to hold her head up high in the hope that he might see a glimmer of beauty in her. Not that she could compare to Lady Arabella, but it was nice to day dream all the same.

"Lady Sylvia, would you care to join me for a stroll in the rose garden?" he asked, his tone gentle but eager.

Her heart fluttered with excitement, tinged with nervousness. This was a surprise, but a wholly pleasant one. "I would love to, Lord Wesley," she replied, linking her arm with his as they began to walk towards the garden. She noticed Lily, Aunt Grace's lady's maid, following discreetly, providing them with a semblance of privacy while maintaining propriety.

As they walked along the winding paths of the rose garden, the vibrant colors and intoxicating scents enveloped them. Sylvia felt a sense of calm and anticipation in Lord Wesley's presence. The world seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of them in their secluded paradise.

Much as she had tried to build a connection with Lord Marcus, it did not feel this way. There was just something about her time with Lord Wesley that felt special. It hardly mattered that she could not pinpoint what it was, she felt different with Lord Wesley. Better.

They did not talk about much in particular as they walked, it was more light hearted banter about the party surrounding them, with Lord Wesley also discussing some of the books that they had talked about before. Lord Wesley's genuine interest in Sylvia's opinions made her feel valued and connected. This was real, unlike the way Lord Marcus spoke to her.

He truly cared. She could feel how really interested he was in her.

As they paused by a bush of elegant pink roses, Sylvia watched in surprise as Lord Wesley carefully selected one, admiring its delicate beauty. "This one," he said softly, "matches the hue of your dress perfectly. I think you should have it. It suits you."

The simple, heartfelt gesture made Sylvia's heart flutter. As Lord Wesley handed her the rose, their hands briefly touched, sending a warm flush to her cheeks. She accepted the flower with a shy smile, her fingers trembling with nerves. This was the nicest thing that had ever happened to her, and for it to occur in the terrifying city of London was a real shock.

"Thank you, Lord Wesley," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "It is truly beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you," he replied, his eyes holding hers in a lingering gaze.

The moment felt timeless, suspended in the fragrant air of the rose garden. Shock reverberated through Sylvia as she tried to process his words. It was surprising that Lord Wesley thought of her as beautiful when he had grown up surrounded by ladies such as Lady Arabella. But she could see in his eyes that he really meant what he said.

Did he know that he was making her fall for him? That she could not stop her heart from racing?

But all too soon, they had to return to the party so they did not arise suspicion with their long walk. As they approached the gathering, Sylvia immediately noticed Lady Victoria's icy glare fixed upon her. The sharpness in her eyes was impossible to miss, and it sent a shiver down Sylvia's spine.

This was exactly what she did not want. To draw unwanted attention to herself. But she also could not ignore the way that she desired to spend all her time with Lord Wesley.

Unfortunately, another gentleman caught Lord Wesley's attention, leaving Sylvia momentarily alone. In that fleeting moment, Lady Victoria seized the opportunity, striding over to Sylvia with an air of cold determination. She leaned in close, her voice a harsh whisper that shocked her to her very core.

"Stay away from my son," Lady Victoria hissed, her words dripping with venom. There was no mistaking her intense anger "I know your type. You are nothing but a fortune seeker, hoping to ensnare a wealthy husband. You will not succeed with Wesley, so I suggest you walk away now before you embarrass yourself further."

Sylvia felt the sting of the accusation like a physical blow. Her breath caught in her throat, and a whirlwind of hurt and indignation swirled within her. She struggled to maintain her composure, her mind reeling from the unexpected confrontation. She wanted to defend herself but did not know how.

"Lady Victoria," she began, her voice trembling but resolute, "I do not know why you think this of me, but…"

"Spare me your platitudes," Lady Victoria interrupted sharply before Sylvia could really say anything. "I see right through your charade. Mark my words, Lady Sylvia, you will not be welcome in our family. You are not welcome to even talk to my son. If you ruin his chance at a suitable connection then the consequences for you will be dire."

With that, Lady Victoria turned on her heels and stalked away, leaving Sylvia standing there, her emotions in turmoil. The joyous warmth she had felt moments ago now seemed distant and fragile. She clutched the pink rose in her hand, its delicate petals a stark contrast to the harsh words that had been thrown at her.

She tried to search the garden, to seek out a friendly face, but she could not seem to see anyone. Aunt Grace and George were nowhere to be found, and she could not see Lady Harriet either. It was as if she was very much alone in this horrible moment. Stewing in the words of a woman who hated her.

This was why Sylvia did not like it here. This was what she despised. Why did London have to be so hard?