Page 13 of The Earl's Demure Spinster
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 impeccablymannered. 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 didnot 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.
