Page 22 of The Earl's Demure Spinster
The Duke frowned, clearly displeased at the lapse in Wesley’s attention. “I was saying that the prospects for the next quarter look exceptionally promising, especially with the new trade routes we have secured.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” Wesley replied hastily. “Quite promising indeed.”
But his words were automatic, devoid of true comprehension. His gaze had already drifted back to Lady Sylvia, who had reached the foot of the staircase and was now making her way through the crowd. George and her aunt engaged in conversation with a few acquaintances, but Lady Sylvia seemed momentarily alone, her eyes scanning the garden.
As if sensing his stare, she looked up and their eyes met. A faint smile touched her lips, and Wesley felt a rush of warmth spread through him. It was a simple, fleeting connection, but it felt profoundly significant. This was yet another reminder that it was not just a passing fancy, he truly did want to get to know Lady Sylvia better. She really had intrigued him.
His reverie was interrupted by a subtle but pointed look from Harriet, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she caught his gaze lingering too long on Lady Sylvia. The silent admonition was clear: he was staring, and it was neither polite nor discreet. Wesley flushed, breaking his gaze and glancing around the garden to regain his composure.
He had to be careful, just because he was not interested in Lady Arabella, did not mean he wanted to cause upset with otherpeople. He most certainly did not want to make Lady Sylvia’s current situation worse.
Lady Arabella’s family, still deep in conversation about their various business ventures, finally moved on to mingle with other guests. Wesley sighed in relief, grateful for the temporary rest. He most certainly needed time alone to gather up his thoughts.
Scanning the garden, Wesley spotted Edward near the refreshment table, a glass of wine in hand and a welcoming smile on his face. Seizing the opportunity to escape, Wesley made his way through the horde of guests, his steps quickening as he approached his friend.
“Edward,” Wesley greeted him, his voice betraying his relief. “It is good to see you again.”
Edward clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “And you, my friend. You looked like you needed rescuing.”
“You have no idea,” Wesley replied, glancing back briefly to ensure that neither Lady Arabella nor his mother had noticed his departure. “The Duke’s detailed account of his investments was… enlightening.”
Edward chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. “I can imagine. Tea shares, was it?”
“Yes, and quite an in-depth discussion at that,” Wesley said wryly. “I do not think I have ever heard anyone speak so passionately about trade routes.”
They both laughed, the tension easing from Wesley’s shoulders. Edward had a knack for making any situation seem less dire, and his presence was a welcome relief.
Wesley stood alongside Edward, his gaze fixed on Lady Sylvia from a distance. Her elegance and grace captivated him deeply, especially because of the mess that she currently found herself in. Despite the whispers and pointed glances, Lady Sylvia held her head high and continued to smile, being friendly with everyone who approached her.
She truly was brave in the face of such adversity. It was utterly impressive.
Edward’s voice, discussing an upcoming auction at Tattersalls, barely pierced Wesley’s preoccupation. “The collection this season is particularly impressive,” Edward remarked, his enthusiasm palpable. Yet, Wesley could only muster a vague nod, his mind adrift. “I am looking forward to bidding on some of his amazing pieces.”
A sudden twinge of jealousy gripped Wesley’s heart as he noticed Lord Marcus approach Lady Sylvia, coming out of the crowds as if from nowhere. The sight of them together sent a rush of unease through him. Lord Marcus’s reputation as a frequent gambler haunted Wesley’s thoughts, adding to his growing discomfort as he watched Lady Sylvia smile sweetly at him. The man’s charm and swagger masked the darkness Wesley believed lurked beneath. He hated the fact that he could only watch from afar, unable to stop what was happening right in front of him.
The call for guests to take their seats at the garden tea table interrupted Wesley’s brooding before he could act out and do something silly that he would later go on to regret. He moved with the crowd, his steps heavy with reluctance. As he reached his assigned place at the table, his heart sank. He knew his mother had to have had a hand in this because he was seated next to Lady Arabella, her incessant chatter, a prospect he dreaded, and directly across from Lady Sylvia. Although his mother likely did not have a part in that…
To make it worse, Lord Marcus occupied the seat beside her, his smug expression only intensifying Wesley’s irritation. He loved sitting beside Lady Sylvia, that much was obvious, and it twisted up in Wesley’s guts.
“Ooh, this is lovely,” Lord Arabella’s voice pierced through his contemplation. “To sit beside you, how wonderful.”
Wesley forced a smile, hoping to mask his disinterest. “Yes, quite,” he replied, the words hollow and automatic. “Lady Maria has made this whole party just wonderful.”
He could not stop himself from trying to capture Lady Sylvia’s attention. He wanted her eyes on him, he could not help himself.
As the tea service began, the clinking of fine china and the murmur of polite conversation filled the air. Wesley picked up his cup, taking a sip of the fragrant brew, all the while stealing glances at Lady Sylvia. Her composure and light as she conversed with Lord Marcus were captivating, but also deeply troubling to him. Each shared smile between them felt like a blow.
Lord Marcus leaned in, whispering something into Lady Sylvia’s ear that made her laugh. The sound, usually so delightful to Wesley, now felt like a twist of the knife. He watched Lord Marcus’s hand rest lightly on the back of Lady Sylvia’s chair, a casual but possessive gesture that made Wesley’s blood boil. Why was he acting like he knew her so well? Had something happened that he was unaware of? His mother was so concerned with Lady Arabella having other suitors, he had not had a moment to worry about Lady Sylvia’s suitors.
To his surprise, the next time he looked at Lady Sylvia, he found her looking back at him. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and the world seemed to fall away. In her gaze, he saw a flicker of something — recognition, perhaps even regret that she was not able to talk with him too. It was enough to stoke the embers of his hope, and he offered her a small, tentative smile.
