Page 34 of The Earl's Demure Spinster
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 aplace 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 ballwith 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 opinionsabout 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.”
