CHAPTER 22

Two days had passed since the disastrous ball, but the memory of that night lingered in Wesley's mind like an unwelcome guest. He sat in his study, the large desk in front of him was covered with ledgers and documents detailing the financial aspects of his estate. But despite the importance of the matters at hand, Wesley's thoughts kept drifting to Lady Sylvia as always.

He could never stop thinking about her, no matter what he did, and it was becoming harder with every passing day.

Seated across from him, his man of affairs, Mr. Harding, was meticulously explaining the latest figures. "As you can see, my lord, the revenue from the northern fields has increased by ten percent this quarter, likely due to the favorable weather conditions…"

Wesley nodded absently, his eyes fixed on the papers but not really seeing them. He appreciated Mr. Harding's diligence, but he could not force himself to concentrate on any of this. Not when he had more important issues to address. He had tried to visit Lady Sylvia the day before, to see how she was, only to be met with a firmly closed door. The butler had cited her indisposition, a tone of implied scandal lacing his words. It was clear that the events of the ball had affected her deeply, and that knowledge gnawed at him.

He hated that it was the ball in his home which had broken her, after they had shared a lovely dance.

"Lord Wesley?" Mr. Harding's voice broke through his reverie, drawing Wesley's attention back to the present. "Are you well, my lord?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Wesley replied, though his voice lacked conviction. "Continue, Mr. Harding."

Mr. Harding resumed his report, but Wesley's thoughts quickly drifted again. He pictured Lady Sylvia's face, the pain and embarrassment she must have felt when the wine spilled on her gown. He had seen the way the ton had turned their sharp, judgmental gazes on her, and the memory made his blood boil. How could they be so cruel?

Wesley knew he needed to focus. His estate required his attention, especially with the upcoming changes in agricultural policies that could impact his lands. But every time he tried to concentrate, his mind returned to that night and the terrible aftermath of it. He wondered how she was coping, whether she had anyone to comfort her, to help her through this ordeal.

He even wondered if she blamed him for it all. Because it was dancing with him that seemed to bring misfortune her way.

He blamed himself, so he would not be surprised if she felt the same way.

Eventually, his meeting with Mr. Harding came to an end, but it left Wesley feeling more restless than ever. He needed to take action, to find a way to ease the turmoil in his heart, to somehow make this better, even if it seemed impossible right now. But as he stepped out of his study, he was promptly intercepted by his mother who had an intense fire burning in her eyes.

It was safe to say that their relationship was not any closer to improving. But he did not know if he even wanted it to when she was going out of her way to misunderstand him so.

"Wesley," she began without preamble, her tone brooking no argument. "We have been invited to a picnic hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Ervington along the Serpentine tomorrow. It is a significant social event, and it is crucial that we attend. Lady Arabella will be there, of course, and I am certain that you will be attending as well. I have already let the family know that we will all be there."

There was no question there, it was just a statement, but Wesley knew he needed to agree.

Wesley felt a surge of irritation, but he suppressed it, knowing better than to argue with his mother when she was in such a mood. Even if he did not agree with her. "Very well, Mother," he replied, his voice carefully neutral. "I will be there."

His mother's eyes narrowed slightly, as if she sensed his reluctance but chose not to address it directly. "Good. It is essential for our family to maintain our social standing, especially with the recent... unpleasantness." Her gaze held his, unyielding and expectant.

Wesley nodded, feeling the weight of her judgment settle heavily on his shoulders. "I understand, Mother. I will do what is necessary."

Her expression softened just a fraction, a small acknowledgment of his compliance. "Excellent. And Wesley," she added, her voice taking on a more conspiratorial tone, "it might be wise to distance yourself from certain individuals whose presence could further tarnish our reputation. You know what I mean."

Wesley's jaw tightened. He knew exactly to whom she was referring. Despite his mother's subtle phrasing, her meaning was clear: stay away from Lady Sylvia. This time, he knew that she finally expected him to listen to her.

He had not seen the wine spill onto Lady Sylvia's dress, and he had ignored the whispers floating around the ballroom, assuming that they had come just because of the dance. So by the time he actually heard what was happening, it was too late. Lady Sylvia had already run away and he could not do anything to comfort her. A problem that he was still dealing with now.

Wesley could not help but worry. Was this merely an accident? Or more of a way to try and tear Lady Sylvia down again? If so, who would do such a cruel thing? Would he ever find out?

***

Later that evening, seeking a distraction from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind, Wesley decided to join his friend Edward for drinks at their club. The establishment, renowned for its quiet luxury, was a sanctuary for the elite, offering an ambiance of refined exclusivity which many members of the ton relished. Plush leather chairs, dark mahogany furnishings, and the soft glow of crystal chandeliers created an atmosphere that typically soothed Wesley. But tonight, he found little comfort in its familiar opulence.

As he entered the club, Wesley nodded to the doorman and made his way to the private room where Edward awaited. He found Edward already settled in with a glass of brandy, a look of casual contentment on his face.

"Wesley," Edward greeted him with a warm smile, "good to see you. I took the liberty of ordering your favourite."

"Thank you, Edward," Wesley replied, taking the offered glass and sinking into the chair opposite his friend. "I appreciate it."

"So, what is happening, Wesley? What is with the urgent need for a night out?"

Wesley offered a wan smile. "Just the usual estate matters," he lied, unwilling to delve in to the real source of his turmoil. He needed a break from it, if only for tonight. He needed a break from everything. "Which is why I am glad to get out and have a drink with you."

If Edward believed him or not, he was not sure, but his friend nodded and did not question him further.

As he supped his drink, Wesley's gaze wandered across the room. He quickly spotted Lord Marcus at a card table, losing game after game. Lord Marcus's streak of bad luck appalled him, as did his insistence to keep playing despite the losses. Wesley could not understand why someone would be so willing to throw their money away in such a careless way.

He was just about to comment on that to Edward, when Wesley noticed a familiar face approaching their table – Lord George Martin. A congenial man who Wesley had often seen with Lady Grace and Lady Sylvia. He seemed very connected to them, and as he spotted them, it seemed like Lord George recognized them also.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Lord George greeted them, taking a seat uninvited. "I trust you are both well."

"As well as can be expected," Edward replied smoothly. "And you, Lord George? How have things been with you?"

Edward ordered Lord George a drink, inviting him to stay with them for a while. Wesley wondered if Edward knew exactly what he was doing. Especially as Lord George started talking.

"It has been a tough day," Lord George stated. "Much to Lady Grace's upset, her niece has decided to leave London. She wishes to return to Bath."

The news struck Wesley with a force he had not anticipated. Lady Sylvia, leaving London? The thought of her absence created a void he could not ignore. Especially when he was quite sure he knew why she wanted to run away.

"Bath, you say?" Wesley managed to ask, his voice carefully controlled.

"Yes," Lord George confirmed, oblivious to Wesley's internal struggle. "She is apparently in need of a change of scenery after the bother at the ball."

Wesley nodded, understandingly. It seemed that this was exactly what his mother had wanted, and she was going to win. She was going to win at the cost of Wesley's happiness, which was the hardest part of this to swallow. He could hardly stand it. If Lady Sylvia was out of the picture, then she would likely be able to force him into a loveless marriage with Lady Arabella.

In that moment, amidst the clinking of glasses and the low buzz of the club, Wesley came to a profound realization. His concern for Sylvia, his need to see her happy and safe, and the pain he felt at the thought of her leaving – it all pointed to one undeniable truth.

A truth he could not believe that he had not seen before.

He had fallen in love with Sylvia.

Head over heels in irrevocable love.

The realization settled over him like a revelation, bringing with it a sense of clarity. He could no longer deny his feelings or the importance of Sylvia in his life. He had to act, to make her understand how he felt, and to ensure she knew she was not alone. He could not let her leave for Bath because then he might never see her again, which would crush him.

Wesley felt a powerful surge of determination. His previous hesitations and doubts seemed trivial now in the face of this overpowering emotion. He had to do something, to make her understand his feelings, to prevent her from leaving. He would not be able to live without her, not now.

Edward, noticing his friend's distraction, leaned forward as Lord George got caught up in a conversation with someone else. "Wesley, are you all right? You seem miles away."

Wesley snapped back to the present, meeting Edward's concerned gaze. "I... I am fine, Edward. Just a lot on my mind."

Edward's eyes narrowed slightly, a knowing glint in them. "Is it Lady Sylvia? That is terrible news about her leaving the city."

There was no point in denying it. Wesley nodded slowly. "Yes, it is. I have realised something tonight, Edward. Something important."

Edward remained silent, giving Wesley the space to continue.

"I have realised that I love her," Wesley confessed, the words feeling both liberating and terrifying. "And I can not let her leave without telling her how I feel."

Edward smiled softly, his expression one of understanding and support. "Then you know what you have to do. Do not let fear hold you back. If Lady Sylvia is important to you, you must tell her."

The realization that he loved Lady Sylvia had filled Wesley with a sense of urgency and determination. But as the initial rush of emotion began to settle, practical considerations came to the fore front. He needed to plan his next steps carefully, especially given the inevitable reaction of his mother. He had to be careful here or he might ruin everything.

Edward leaned back in his chair, studying Wesley with a thoughtful expression. "But how? How will you tell her, Wesley?"

Now that was something he had not considered. Wesley took a deep breath, swirling the brandy in his glass. "I want to be honest with her, Edward. I want to lay my feelings bare and let her know that I am committed to making things right between us. But there is more to consider."

"Your mother," Edward said, not missing a beat.

Wesley nodded, a frown creasing his brow. "Yes. She has always been very clear about her expectations for me. She sees Lady Sylvia as a potential threat to our family's reputation. I fear she will not take this well."

Edward sighed, leaning forward. "Your mother is formidable, Wesley. But if you truly love Lady Sylvia, you have to be prepared to stand up to her. Your mother's concerns are rooted in societal expectations, not in the reality of your feelings."

"I know," Wesley replied, running a hand through his hair. "But you know how persuasive she can be. She has a way of making her opinions feel like the only reasonable course of action. She is not going to be pleased about all the effort she has put in to Lady Arabella, just for everything to fall apart."

Edward took a sip of his brandy, contemplating his words. "Have you considered involving Lady Sylvia in this decision? She deserves to know what she's up against and what it might mean for her if you pursue this relationship."

Wesley nodded thoughtfully. "You are right. Lady Sylvia should be part of this conversation. I owe her that much before I do anything rash."

Edward clinked his glass against Wesley's in a silent toast. "To courage and to love," he said with a smile.

Wesley returned the smile, grateful for Edward's unwavering support. "To courage and to love," he echoed.