CHAPTER 6

It was not long before Wesley found himself reluctantly entwined in a dance with Lady Arabella, exactly where he knew he would end up at this ball. She was a vision in shimmering silk and dazzling jewels, the epitome of what society deemed a perfect match for an earl. As they moved gracefully across the dance floor, Arabella fluttered her eyelashes and spoke animatedly about her interests, acting incredibly different to how she had at the dinner table in his home.

Wesley knew that this was her public face, one that she saved for balls when she was in the eye line of the ton. It was a little shocking to have her act so dramatically different, but he was starting to understand why Harriet had been her friend for a while now.

"Oh, Lord Wesley," she gushed, her voice melodic and refined, almost as if she was performing a role in a play, "you simply must come to one of my recitals. I have been playing the pianoforte since I was a child, and I do believe I have quite the talent for it." She giggled girlishly. "At least that is what everyone tells me. That is what they say about my water colors as well. Good enough for a gallery. I have been told they are quite exceptional. I could show you some of my pieces sometime. I am sure you would love them."

Wesley nodded politely, his mind elsewhere. Arabella's voice was like a background hum, her words blending into the general noise of the ballroom. He knew his mother was watching them closely from the side lines, her hopes desperately pinned on this match, and he could see why. Arabella was everything an earl's wife should be: beautiful, accomplished, and impeccably mannered. Yet, as Wesley looked into her sparkling blue eyes, he felt nothing but a growing sense of entrapment.

He did not feel like they would ever have anything in common, or that he would ever enjoy her company. She was like a porcelain doll, lovely to look at but devoid of the depth and warmth he craved.

He did not know if it was unreasonable to crave such things, especially when he had a title which meant he needed to marry someone ‘suitable', but he could not help himself. He ached for a life of love and happiness.

"Lord Wesley, are you listening?" Arabella's voice broke through his musing, a hint of irritation in her tone. "You are not responding to me."

"Of course, Lady Arabella," he replied, forcing a smile and trying to focus on her once more. "Your talents are indeed impressive. I do not think that I have ever met anyone who is as creative as you, with music and art as well. Impressive!"

She beamed, clearly pleased with his response which was a relief. It seemed that he was going to have to talk about her and only her to keep this lady smiling. "Thank you. I do hope you will attend my next recital. It would mean so much to me."

Wesley nodded again, his thoughts drifting. He could not shake the feeling that being married to Lady Arabella would be similar to being trapped in a gilded cage with absolutely no way out. Her world was one of perfection and superficiality, a world where appearances mattered more than genuine emotion, very similar to his mother's world actually. He could already envision the stifling life he would lead, bound by the opinions of others, with no room for the kind of deep, meaningful connection he yearned for.

He already did not like living like that under his mother's rules, it was certainly not what he wanted for the rest of his life. He could not imagine anything worse.

As they continued to dance, his gaze wandered through the crowd, seeking a distraction before he did something rude, like yawn in front of Lady Arabella, truly upsetting her.

And then, amidst the throng, he saw her.

A beautiful woman. One he could vaguely recall standing beside Lady Grace as he entered the ballroom, but one he had not spoken to because he had been so fraught, worrying about Lady Arabella. But now he was not sure how he had managed to miss her loveliness.

Who was she?

How had he not seen her before tonight?

For a moment, Wesley forgot the expectations weighing on him. He watched this lady, noting the simpler way that she moved, with a natural grace that set her apart from the carefully curated elegance of the other guests. In her simplicity, she was more striking than any jewel encrusted gown or elaborate hair style. He ached to talk to her, to greet her as he should have done when he first entered.

Once the dance came to an end, Wesley escorted Lady Arabella back to her mother, who was engaged in a lively conversation with his own mother. The two matrons exchanged knowing glances as Wesley and Lady Arabella approached, their expressions filled with unspoken hopes and expectations. The sort of look that made Wesley feel sick to his stomach. He could not stand it, the way that they just wanted to make decisions for him.

It was all wrong.

"Thank you for the dance, Lady Arabella," Wesley said, bowing politely.

Lady Arabella curtsied, her smile radiant. "The pleasure was mine, Lord Wesley. I do hope we can dance again soon."

Wesley forced a smile, but his heart was not in it. He turned to leave, but his mother's voice stopped him before he could get anywhere. "Wesley, a moment, please."

He turned back, his stomach twisting into knots. His mother leaned in, her voice low but insistent. "You should ask Lady Arabella for another dance. The next is a waltz, and it would be most appropriate. You two look wonderful together on the dance floor."

The thought appalled him. Dancing with a lady twice in one evening was a significant gesture. It would not only signify courtship but, in most cases, could cause a scandal if there were no formal intentions behind it, and his mother knew that. Wesley's mind raced, searching for a way to refuse without causing a scene.

"Mother," he began cautiously, "I believe it might be too soon. I would not want to give the wrong impression."

Lady Victoria's eyes narrowed slightly. "Nonsense, Wesley. It is perfectly appropriate since you are eventually going to marry her. Lady Arabella is a charming young woman, and it would do well for you to show interest. It would be good for you to stake your claim before someone else does."

Wesley's discomfort grew. He glanced at Lady Arabella, who was standing nearby, looking like she might be expecting his invitation because she was just as committed to this union as his mother. The orchestra began the strains of a waltz, the music flowing gracefully through the room. Time was running out, and his mother's gaze was unwavering.

"I… I need a moment, Mother," Wesley said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Please excuse me."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, weaving through the throng of guests. He could feel his mother's disapproving eyes on his back, but he could not bring himself to go along with what she wanted, just to keep her happy. He did not want to marry Lady Arabella, but he was not sure how much clearer he could make that. Things were already moving far too quickly for him. The last thing that he wanted to do was make it worse.

He made his way to a quieter part of the ballroom, where he could gather his thoughts. The strains of the music continued, mixing in with the chatter and laughter of the guests. Wesley leaned against a column, taking a deep breath to steady himself. How on earth was he going to get through this if his mother kept pushing him in a direction that he did not wish to go?

As he stood, he found his eyes drifting back towards the beautiful woman who had intrigued him while he was dancing before. Now that was someone he would not mind speaking with and potentially even getting to know a little better. Since she was still standing beside Lady Grace, he thought it might be the perfect time for him to get introduced to her properly without any distractions racing through his mind.

Resolute in his decision because he needed to do something for himself, Wesley straightened and began making his way towards Lady Grace and her companion. Anticipation quickened his steps for it had been a long time since he had been so excited to meet someone. Reaching them, he bowed politely to Lady Grace.

"Lady Grace, it is always a pleasure to see you," Wesley greeted, his voice warm and sincere. "I have come to compliment you again on this fabulous evening. What a soiree!"

Lady Grace smiled, her eyes twinkling with recognition. "Lord Wesley, how delightful to see you this evening. I am so grateful to hear that you are enjoying yourself so. Of course, you already know my niece, Lady Sylvia."

Lady Sylvia curtsied gracefully, her eyes meeting Wesley's with a hint of curiosity. "It is a pleasure to see you, Lord Wesley."

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Sylvia," Wesley replied, bowing slightly. Bravery got the better of him, and before he could even think about what he was doing, words came spilling out of his mouth. "Might I have the honour of this dance?"

He did not see any reason to wait, to hold back on this. Now that the question was out there, he was grateful because he really did wish to know more about Lady Sylvia. He was intrigued by this woman, more than he ever had been by any other woman before, and he wanted to know what that meant.

Lady Sylvia hesitated for a brief moment, glancing at her aunt. But Lady Grace chuckled and nodded emphatically, causing Lady Sylvia's face to light up with a shy smile. "I would be delighted, Lord Wesley."

Wesley extended his slightly trembling hand excitedly, and Lady Sylvia took it, her touch sending a warm thrill through him. One so intense, it was brand new to him and utterly thrilling. As they moved to the dance floor, the orchestra transitioned into a new song, the music flowing gracefully around them. They held one another and began to dance, the world around them fading as they focused on each other.

As they swayed, Wesley felt an unexpected weight lift off his shoulders. Lady Sylvia's presence was calming, her movements graceful yet unpretentious, like she had been taught by a different dance teacher to everyone else. Or like she did not want to put on a show for others. He found solace in the way she carried herself, so different from the polished but empty charm he often encountered. As the music danced through the air, he felt a sense of anticipation mixed with a rare joy.

"This is rather a nice ball your aunt has thrown," he told her smilingly.

"Yes, she has done a lovely job," Sylvia agreed, looking proud as she spoke. "She has been unwell for a while, so it is lovely to see her doing so much better. Her strength is truly impressive."

"I see." He had not heard about Lady Grace being sick, but did not think it right to push for more information. "Well then that makes all of this even more inspiring."

From this, the conversation flowed surprisingly naturally. Sylvia came across as intelligent and sincere, especially as they drifted into topics of literature. She spoke of books with a passion that stirred something deep within Wesley's chest, a yearning for something real and substantial. She had not yet gossiped even a little and she was not bragging about herself either. She had not even talked about the gowns that everyone was wearing. It seemed like she had so much more to say for herself, which truly intrigued Wesley.

"I recently finished a novel by Miss Austen," Sylvia said, her voice tinged with excitement. "Her insights into humanity and our nature are remarkable."

Wesley smiled, intrigued by her enthusiasm. "Yes, the works I have read of Miss Austen are profound. Her characters feel so alive, their strains and accomplishments resonate deeply."

Sylvia's face lit up, looking encouraged by his response. "Exactly! I find myself drawn to her stories because I can relate in a way that I cannot with other authors. I am always left wanting to read more."

It was a shame as the dance came to an end, it felt like it had happened far too quickly, especially when an announcement rang out over the ballroom, letting everyone know that supper was to be served and that dance partners were to escort their ladies to the dining table.

Wesley and Sylvia exchanged a pleased glance. "May I have the honour of accompanying you to supper, Lady Sylvia?" Wesley asked, offering his arm.

Sylvia accepted gracefully, her touch sending a pleasant shiver through him. "I would be delighted, Lord Wesley."

As she touched him, a shiver of excitement ran through his body. He felt like every fiber of his being was reacting to this woman in a way he had never expected to experience. How had he never met her before? She seemed a little older, and far wiser, than other debutantes, which was surprising. Wesley was amazed that she was not yet married. Was she the sort of woman who his mother would be impressed with? He did not wish to focus on her social standing but he knew it would come up in conversations later on with his family. He did not know nearly enough about Lady Sylvia, but he was so intrigued, he hoped that this could work out.

They made their way to the dining hall, the atmosphere buzzing with the excited chatter of guests. The long tables were laden with an array of exquisite dishes, the aromas mingling to create an inviting feast. Wesley led Sylvia to a seat, ensuring she was comfortable before taking his place right beside her. She seemed happy when he sat next to her, grateful for the friendly face sitting with her.

"This looks like it will be quite the feast," Wesley commented with a smile. "I am sure your aunt is thrilled with how tonight is going."

Sylvia smiled happily, enjoying the compliment. "Oh, I am quite sure. It seems like a success to me."

As they settled in, the noise of the dining hall faded into the background. Wesley found himself immersed in conversation with Sylvia, their connection easy and genuine. They spoke of literature, art, and even the recent political changes, her insights reflecting a depth of understanding that fascinated him. Unlike the superficial exchanges he was used to, Sylvia's words carried weight and sincerity.

Dinner progressed, with various courses being served. Wesley barely noticed the passing dishes, so engrossed was he in Sylvia's company and everything that she had to say. He found himself sharing thoughts and opinions he had never voiced aloud before, feeling an unfamiliar but welcome sense of connection. Each time he looked into Sylvia's eyes, he saw the spark of intellect and kindness, a combination that drew him in more than any dazzling jewels or elegant gowns ever could.

At one point, Lady Arabella glanced their way, her expression briefly flickering with curiosity and perhaps a hint of annoyance. Wesley felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was neglecting the social obligations his mother had pressed upon him. But as he turned back to Sylvia, that guilt melted away, replaced by a resolve to explore this burgeoning connection.