CHAPTER 16

Wesley stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, his eyes fixed intently on Lady Sylvia as she glided across the floor with Lord Marcus. The sight ignited an unexpected flare of jealousy within him, a sharp pang that cut through his usual composure and left him weak at the knees. He observed Lady Sylvia's every movement, the effortless grace with which she danced, her emerald gown shimmering under the candle light, and all he wanted to do was sweep her off her feet, to claim her as his own.

Despite his rational mind telling him to be pleased for her because it had to be nice to have the attention of other gentlemen who also did not care about the scandal sheets, Wesley's heart tightened. The way Lord Marcus held Lady Sylvia, his hand resting on the small of her back, stirred a possessiveness in Wesley that he had never felt so acutely before. Yet he could not seem to take his eyes off of them. It was as if he wanted to torture himself further, to prolong the agony ricochetting through his body.

Lady Sylvia's face was a mask of polite interest, her smile courteous yet distant. Wesley noticed the subtle tension in her posture, the way her eyes occasionally darted across the room, as if seeking something – or someone. His pulse quickened whenever her gaze briefly met his. He could feel that she would rather be with him, just as he wanted to be with her. But there were too many barriers in the way.

Hearing gentlemen around him mention moving to the billiards room was just what Wesley needed. He could not stand here and watch Lady Sylvia and Lord Marcus any longer, it was crushing him. So he followed the men, taking the game as the perfect chance to escape the relentless pain of being in a place where his wants and needs were restricted by society. The clacking of billiard balls helped to ease his tension. If only a little.

As Wesley entered, he was greeted with nods and friendly smiles from the gentlemen already present. Edward was leaning casually against one of the tables, a cue in hand. He straightened up when he saw Wesley and gestured for him to join.

"Wesley! About time you made it. Ready for a game?" Edward's tone was light, but his sharp eyes missed little.

Wesley forced a smile, hoping it masked his inner agony. "Of course. A game sounds perfect."

They set up the table, the ritualistic clinking of balls a much needed distraction from Wesley's thoughts. He chalked his cue, trying to focus on the task at hand, but his mind kept drifting back to the ballroom, to Lady Sylvia. He could not stop wondering what was happening with her and what she was doing right at this very moment.

Edward took the break, sending the balls scattering across the table with practiced ease. "So," he said casually as he lined up his next shot, "quite the eventful evening, how have you been?"

Wesley nodded, moving to take his own shot. He aimed carefully, the satisfying click of the cue connecting with the ball loosened up the tension within him a little. "Indeed," he replied, his voice deliberately noncommittal. "Lady Rebecca has crafted quite the evening."

Edward's gaze flicked to Wesley. "You seemed rather preoccupied. Is everything alright?"

Wesley forced a chuckle, straightening up and rolling his shoulders to ease the strain in his muscles. "I am fine. Just struggling to keep out of my mother's eye line. You know how it is."

Edward nodded, though his expression remained thoughtful. "If you say so." He took another shot, sinking a ball with precision. "You know, sometimes it helps to talk about what is on your mind."

Wesley smiled wryly, appreciating Edward's concern. "Yes, I know that."

As Edward prepared for another shot, he glanced at Wesley, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pushed him some more. "You know, Wesley, if there is one thing I have learned, it is that sometimes the heart knows what the mind refuses to accept." Wesley looked up sharply, meeting Edward's knowing gaze. He opened his mouth to respond, but Edward held up a hand. "No need to say anything. Just think about it."

Wesley's contemplation was interrupted by the appearance of the Duke of Ervington, who approached the billiards table with a broad, welcoming smile. He greeted Wesley and Edward with a hearty hand shake, his presence immediately shifting the dynamic of the room.

"Good evening, gentlemen," the Duke said, his voice carrying the authority of a man accustomed to being heard. "Might I be able to join you for a game?"

"Of course, Your Grace," Edward replied, stepping aside to allow him access to the table. "It is always a pleasure."

Wesley forced a polite smile, nodding in agreement. "Yes, please do."

As they set up for the next game, the Duke quickly steered the conversation towards familiar, and very unwelcome territory. Just what Wesley had been hoping to avoid in here.

"You know, Lord Wesley," the Duke began, lining up his shot with a practiced hand, "our families have always had a strong bond, which I have been thinking about a lot recently. Especially in light of what your mother has been suggesting to me."

Wesley nodded, his grip on his cue tightening slightly. "Indeed, Your Grace. My mother has some very strong opinions about family ties." He knew that he should probably say more, but he did not know what to say.

The Duke took his shot, sending the balls scattering with a precise crack. "I agree. And I am sure you have been thinking about the future a lot as well." Wesley's heart sank as he anticipated what was coming next. The Duke's gaze was keen, his intent clear. "Lady Arabella is a fine young woman, well educated and graceful. I believe a union between our families would be mutually beneficial."

The words hung in the air, their weight pressing down on Wesley. Outwardly, he remained composed, his expression neutral, but inside the pressure was becoming far too much. He did not think he would ever be able to escape this. "Lady Arabella is indeed a remarkable lady," he replied carefully.

The Duke smiled, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "Yes, I am glad you think so."

Wesley took his shot, the cue ball rolling with deliberate slowness as his mind raced. The prospect of a strategic marriage warred against his growing affection for Lady Sylvia. He knew that it would be best for his family to do what everyone so clearly wanted of him… but what of his heart? What on earth was he supposed to do about where his feelings truly lay? Was he supposed to just ignore that? Was that what most people did? Just disregarded those they had real feelings for? It was a very depressing thought.

"Of course, such decisions require careful thought," the Duke continued, his tone measured but insistent. "But I believe you and my daughter would complement each other well."

Wesley straightened, forcing himself to meet the Duke's gaze. "I appreciate your confidence in me, Your Grace. Such matters do require careful consideration."

The Duke nodded, satisfied with Wesley's response for the moment. "Of course. I am sure that this is something we will discuss further soon."

The game continued, but Wesley's heart was not in it. He could not even join in with the idly chatter around him. His life was hanging in the balance here and he was not sure which path he should take. The crossroads lying in front of him simply grew by the minute and he was utterly terrified of taking the wrong path and destroying his life forever.

***

Eventually the evening wound down to its inevitable conclusion, and Wesley found himself seated in the family carriage, flanked by his mother and sister. There might have been a silence surrounding them once more, but Wesley knew that it was different this time. He could feel the storm brewing and it would not be long before the thunder erupted.

It was his mother who shattered the quiet, just as he suspected she would, her voice slicing through the stillness like a blade. "I can not believe you chose to dance with that girl, Wesley. Lady Sylvia is nothing more than a fortune seeker, hoping to attach herself to a family of means. I can not believe that you will not listen to me about this. Your refusal to obey my commands is incredibly frustrating."

Wesley clenched his jaw, the familiar sting of his mother's disapproval washing over him. He had expected this reaction but had hoped against it. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, the leather of the seat creaking under the pressure.

"Mother, I…" he began, but his mother cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"Do not even try, Wesley. You know very well the expectations of our status. I keep repeating it, I keep telling you, but you will not seem to hear me." She threw her hands in the air in frustration. "Associating with someone like Lady Sylvia jeopardizes everything we stand for. She brings nothing to the table but her ambition and her lack of fortune. I do not even know why I keep referring to her as a Lady because she is not that. Not really. If it were not for her aunt, we would not have to deal with her at all."

Harriet, seated opposite, cast Wesley a sympathetic glance. Her eyes, filled with understanding, helped him a little because he knew that he was not alone. But she could not say anything to defend Wesley, not without bringing the attention on to herself. Wesley understood all too well why she did not want that.

How could he make his mother understand that Lady Sylvia was nothing like she suspected? How could he make her see that he wanted much more from his life and that he might want to follow his heart? Even if that was not what she wanted for him?

But the quiet did not last long. It seemed like his mother was not done yet. "We have worked tirelessly to maintain our standing in society, Wesley. I have worked hard, especially since your father died. You can not jeopardize it all for a passing fancy. There are suitable matches, alliances that would benefit our family. Lady Arabella, for instance. She is perfect."

Wesley's heart clenched at the mention of Lady Arabella again. He knew the strategic advantage of such a marriage, yet the very thought filled him with dread. Lady Arabella was everything his mother desired in a daughter in law: wealthy, well connected, and entirely indifferent to him in every single way when it came to her personality. In contrast, Lady Sylvia's genuine warmth and unpretentious nature had touched something deep within him, something he could not ignore.

"Mother," he said finally, his voice low but firm, "I understand our family's position, but I can not base my life solely on strategic alliances. Lady Sylvia is not what you think. She is kind, intelligent, and sincere. Qualities that are rare in our circles. Qualities that I can not help but admire. You simply think that I am rebelling against you, but that is not the case. I want to talk with her, I like dancing with her, she is someone that I admire greatly."

His mother's eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. "You are naive, Wesley. Your sentiments will lead you to ruin. Mark my words. I do not want you to ruin yourself, but I also do not wish for you to ruin things for us as well. Harriet and me. We do not deserve the tarnished reputation that you will bring by associating with someone like that."

Wesley met his mother's gaze, a silent battle of wills passing between them. He had always respected his mother, admired her strength and determination, especially in light of his father's death. He knew that had to be hard for her, but he could not let her dictate his heart's desires. He stole another glance at Harriet, whose slight nod gave him courage. She was clearly not upset by his decisions, so why could his mother not try and see things his way?

Was there anything that he could do to change his mother's mind, or would he be swept away by her wishes regardless? That unnerved him greatly, but he truly was not sure how he could fight the expectations of London society. Not forever.