Page 32 of The Earl's Demure Spinster
CHAPTER 15
Sylvia stood in the grand ballroom, her heart fluttering like a caged bird. The candle light flickered across a sea of fancy gowns and expensive suits, highlighting the wealth right here in this room among the ton of London. She glanced down at her own gown, a beautiful creation of emerald silk that hugged her figure and flowed gracefully to the floor. She felt a surge of gratitude for her aunt’s insistence on its elegance, knowing it allowed her to blend seamlessly into this world of the rich here.
Although she often looked the part, there were people who constantly reminded her that she was not.
That had not changed, and Sylvia was starting to come to terms with the fact that it never would.
The atmosphere was charged with anticipation and the soft murmur of conversation. Sylvia’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, her emotions a blend of excitement and nervousness. She had been aware of Lord Wesley’s presence from the moment she entered the room. It was as if he were a part of her, so she always knew where he was. She could not help herself. Even if she knew that she should keep her distance from him, she could not seem to do it.
And nor could he.
As she found him standing before her, her pulse pounded so hard she feared her heart might burst free at any given moment. Lord Wesley extended his hand, his gaze steady and inviting. A wave of nervous excitement washed over Sylvia as she placed her hand in his, the warmth of his touch both reassuring and electrifying. Her heart fluttered as they moved toward the dance floor, the orchestra striking up a melodious tune that seemed to match the rhythm of her racing heart.
As they began to dance, Sylvia found herself effortlessly carried away, her body moving in perfect harmony with Lord Wesley’s. The steps came more naturally than they ever had done for her, their movements felt synchronized and fluid. She gazed up into his eyes, finding a glint of admiration that made her cheeks warm.
“Thank you for dancing with me, Lady Sylvia,” Wesley said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. “I always enjoy having you as my partner on the dance floor.”
“The pleasure is mine, Lord Wesley,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly. “I am honoured.”
Lord Wesley’s smile was warm and genuine, and it sent a shiver down her spine. “You look beautiful tonight. That gown suits you perfectly.”
Sylvia’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. “Thank you. My aunt insisted on it. She knows much better than me what suits these events. I am starting to think that she has impeccable taste.”
“She certainly does,” Lord Wesley agreed, his eyes never leaving hers. “But it is you, all you, who brings the gown to life. You make it shine.”
Sylvia’s heart fluttered at his words, a mixture of joy and disbelief coursing through her. She really did enjoy the compliments. Coming from Lord Wesley, they were thrilling. But as they continued to dance, Sylvia started to become increasingly aware of the stares and whispers of the other guests. She could feel their eyes on her, their curiosity and judgment evident. But just for a moment, Sylvia wanted to lose herself in this moment, and to enjoy it for what it was. She did not want to worry about everyone else.
So as the music swelled, Sylvia allowed herself to be fully present in the moment. She felt the strength of Lord Wesley’s arm around her, guiding her effortlessly across the floor. Theworld around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of enchantment.
That was how she wanted it to stay. It was at times like this that she really enjoyed these evenings, when it was only Lord Wesley that she needed to worry about impressing. Especially because he often seemed to be impressed by her.
Sylvia was not sure if it was because Lord Wesley felt the judgement too, and he wanted to distract her, or if he simply wanted to make her feel a little better, but it was nice when he recounted amusing anecdotes from previous balls and shared his observations about the guests in the room, his remarks always kind and witty.
“You see Lord Pembroke over there,” Lord Wesley said with a playful glint in his eye, nodding discreetly toward an elderly gentleman with an impressive moustache. “He once tried to teach me how to fence when I was just a child. Needless to say, it did not go well for either of us. Putting it mildly.”
Sylvia laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I can not imagine you being anything less than proficient at fencing.”
“Oh, I assure you, it was quite the spectacle,” Lord Wesley replied, his tone teasing. “He ended up with a bruised ego, and I ended up with a bruised… Well, everything. I might be much better at it now, but my humble fencing beginnings were a nightmare.”
The more that Sylvia learned about Lord Wesley, the closer she felt to him. Everything they discussed was always light-hearted and fun, but with an element of sincerity underneath. Sylvia could not imagine anyone else making her feel this way.
But eventually, the cutting remarks got to Sylvia once more. She wanted to ignore the ton, but she was all too acutely aware of the many eyes upon them. Lord Wesley’s steady presence was a comfort, his touch a grounding force, yet Sylvia could not shake the feeling of being scrutinized. The flicker of candle lightreflected in the glittering eyes of the high society ladies who watched her, their fans fluttering like wings. Their expressions were sharp and calculating, their whispers just beyond her earshot.
As Lord Wesley twirled her gracefully, Sylvia’s ears caught snippets of their conversation, piercing the bubble of happiness she had been enveloped in.
“Upstart… presumptuous… can not believe it…”
The words cut through the music, their venom seeping into Sylvia’s heart. Her steps faltered slightly, the rhythm of the dance momentarily disrupted by the doubts creeping into her mind.
Lord Wesley noticed the change in her demeanor. “Lady Sylvia, are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
She forced a smile, nodding slightly. “Yes, I am fine,” she replied, though her heart felt heavy.
But Lord Wesley, ever perceptive, must have sensed her unease. He guided her gently off the dance floor and into a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from the prying eyes and wagging tongues. Sylvia’s heart pounded in her chest, a mix of gratitude for Lord Wesley’s understanding and dread for what lay ahead. She knew that she was going to have to talk, at least a little.
“Pray, do converse with me. What has transpired?" Lord Wesley asked, his voice soft and concerned. His eyes searched hers, filled with genuine worry.
Sylvia hesitated, her emotions swirling in a tumultuous dance. “I do not know,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “The whispers, the looks... I did not expect it to be this intense. My aunt keeps trying to tell me that the ton will start focusing on someone else soon, but that has not happened yet.”
