Page 11 of The Earl's Demure Spinster
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Edward,” Sylvia said, curtsying gracefully, just as her aunt had told her to. She was no nervous that she hardly saw each person who came before her. They were all a sea of faces, who could potentially judge her and decide if she would be allowed to fit in or not. “Thank you for coming.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Sylvia,” he replied, taking her hand and bowing slightly. His crinkly smile helped her feel just a little better. “I look forward to dancing with you later if you do me the honour to accept.”
Sylvia hesitated for a moment, glancing at her aunt for reassurance. Lady Grace nodded subtly, encouraging her. “I would be delighted, Lord Edward,” Sylvia said, her nerves giving way to excitement. “Thank you for the offer.”
“Ah, and this is Lady Victoria Montclair, and her two children,” her aunt continued. “Lord Wesley and Lady Harriet.”
Sylvia was immediately struck by the sight of Lord Wesley. He managed to catch her eye in a way that no one else had, and she was not too sure why. There was something about his dark, brooding exterior which captured her attention wholly. It was just a shame that he had not even glanced her way once. He seemed so distracted by something – or someone – else that it was as if she did not exist.
He did manage to greet her aunt just for a moment, but just with a fleeting glance, it seemed that politeness was not his forte. Strange for such a refined gentleman who clearly had been brought up in London, among polite society. Perhaps not everyone was going to make her feel welcome here…
But Wesley could not stay at the forefront of her mind when there were still so many people to greet and acknowledge. She was going to have to forget all about him and his intriguing face, so she could focus on doing what her aunt needed of her, and greet everyone else.
There were far too many names. Sylvia did not know how she was supposed to remember them all, but she would try her hardest. Especially since this was going better than she expected it to. No one had yet made any nasty comments, or even sent her a look that made her uncomfortable, which was a truly fine start. She had even had some offers of dances, but none that had yet come to fruition. Perhaps they were being extended to simply be polite to the niece of the host, but it made her feel nice all the same.
That was until a gentleman who reminded Sylvia that he was Lord Marcus Langford approached her with his hand outstretched, and a bowed head, that Sylvia actually found herself in the spotlight. “Please, Lady Sylvia, do me the honour of dancing with me next.”
“Of course, you must.” Aunt Grace encouraged her, of course, wanting to see her flourish. “Have a nice time.”
Sylvia felt herself blush brightly. “Yes, thank you, I would love to dance.”
But even as Marcus led her to the dance floor, she was not sure if she was ready for this. She was unaccustomed to this position, but determined to handle it with grace. Sylvia’s heart raced. She took a deep breath, reminding herself to stay composed. The orchestra struck up a lively tune, and the lord bowed before taking her hands and subtly showing her where to put them. She had danced before, but it was never quite as formal as this.
“You look absolutely ravishing tonight, Lady Sylvia,” he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “I am honoured to share this dance with you. Thank you for allowing me to bring you onto the dance floor first.”
“Thank you, Lord Marcus,” Sylvia replied, her nerves settling slightly as she tried to focus on her movements, keeping them in time with the music. “I appreciate your kind words.”
They twirled gracefully around the ballroom, Sylvia’s dress flowing elegantly with each step. She focused on the rhythm of the waltz, letting the music guide her movements. Lord Marcus was an excellent dancer, and he led her with a practiced ease that made her feel almost weightless. Thank goodness it was not a clumsy man who had asked her to dance first, because if he hesitated for even a second, she might have stumbled and made a fool of herself.
As they danced, Sylvia caught sight of her aunt, who watched with a proud smile. It gave her the confidence to continue, to let herself enjoy the moment. The other guests seemed to blur into the background as she concentrated on the movements, on the sensation of being part of something so grand and beautiful. She could do this after all, she was even stronger than she thought she was.
As the dance came to an end, Marcus escorted her back to her aunt’s side and Sylvia wanted to celebrate because she had survived something incredible. Something she did not know if she could. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Sylvia. It was truly a pleasure.”
“The pleasure was mine, Lord Marcus,” Sylvia replied, curtsying gracefully, proud of herself for getting through this terrifying moment.
Aunt Grace beamed at her as soon as they were alone again. “You did wonderfully, my dear. I am so proud of you.”
Sylvia felt a rush of gratitude and joy. “Thank you, Aunt Grace. It was all thanks to your encouragement.”
As the evening continued, Sylvia found herself more at ease with each passing moment. She danced with several gentlemen, each one praising her beauty and grace in ways that she was not expecting. She engaged in light conversation with the other guests, feeling more confident with each interaction.
The ballroom buzzed with energy, a whirl of color and sound as guests danced and conversed, filling the grand space with life. Sylvia, feeling the need for a brief respite from the excitement, moved towards a quieter corner of the room. The constant interactions and dancing had been exhilarating, but she longed for a moment of calm to collect her thoughts.
She found a small alcove near one of the large windows, where the noise from the ballroom was subdued. The cool evening breeze drifted in through the partially open window,providing a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the crowded room. Sylvia took a deep breath, savoring the quiet and the gentle rustling of the leaves outside.
As she stood there, she noticed a young woman sitting on a small bench tucked away in the corner. The woman’s simple attire marked her as a maid, and she seemed to be observing the festivities with a mix of curiosity and resignation. Sylvia approached her, intrigued by the opportunity for a different kind of conversation.
“Good evening,” Sylvia said softly, not wanting to startle her. “May I join you?”
The young woman looked up, a surprised but welcoming smile crossing her face. “Of course, my lady. I would be honoured.”
Sylvia sat down beside her, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. “I am Sylvia. And you are?”
“My name is Clara, my lady,” she replied, dipping her head in a modest gesture. “I am Lady Arabella’s maid.”
Sylvia nodded, although she could not exactly recall who Lady Arabella was. She had met far too many people tonight. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Clara. Tonight is my first real taste of this society, and it is both thrilling and overwhelming.”
Clara smiled sympathetically. “It can be overwhelming, especially at first. There are so many unspoken rules and expectations. But you seem to be handling it quite well, if I may say so, my lady.”
