Page 24 of The Earl's Demure Spinster
Sylvia’s eyebrows raised. “Concerns? Whatever do you mean?”
George did not seem the type to participate in idle gossip, so she was surprised by his statement. George glanced around, ensuring their conversation remained private before he spoke out once more. “I have heard unsettling things about Lord Marcus that I think you should know about. Especially as it seems like the two of you are close.” He swallowed hard. “His reputation at the gambling tables is well known, which has led to rumours suggesting that he is seeking out an advantageous match. One that can help him with his mounting debts.”
Sylvia felt a chill at George’s words. “I see,” she murmured, her mind racing with the implications. Clearly he was making a mistake with her because she did not have the advantageous connections he was potentially looking for. But she trusted what George was saying to her, and could only assume that Lord Marcus did not know. She might have a dowry, courtesy of Aunt Grace, but that did not mean he would get what he wanted from her.
Before she could delve further into the topic with George, Lord Wesley approached, a hopeful smile lighting up his features. Instantly, her pulse began to race at the speed of light. She shifted her position, trying to hold her head up high in thehope that he might see a glimmer of beauty in her. Not that she could compare to Lady Arabella, but it was nice to day dream all the same.
“Lady Sylvia, would you care to join me for a stroll in the rose garden?” he asked, his tone gentle but eager.
Her heart fluttered with excitement, tinged with nervousness. This was a surprise, but a wholly pleasant one. “I would love to, Lord Wesley,” she replied, linking her arm with his as they began to walk towards the garden. She noticed Lily, Aunt Grace’s lady’s maid, following discreetly, providing them with a semblance of privacy while maintaining propriety.
As they walked along the winding paths of the rose garden, the vibrant colors and intoxicating scents enveloped them. Sylvia felt a sense of calm and anticipation in Lord Wesley’s presence. The world seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of them in their secluded paradise.
Much as she had tried to build a connection with Lord Marcus, it did not feel this way. There was just something about her time with Lord Wesley that felt special. It hardly mattered that she could not pinpoint what it was, she felt different with Lord Wesley. Better.
They did not talk about much in particular as they walked, it was more light hearted banter about the party surrounding them, with Lord Wesley also discussing some of the books that they had talked about before. Lord Wesley’s genuine interest in Sylvia’s opinions made her feel valued and connected. This was real, unlike the way Lord Marcus spoke to her.
He truly cared. She could feel how really interested he was in her.
As they paused by a bush of elegant pink roses, Sylvia watched in surprise as Lord Wesley carefully selected one, admiring its delicate beauty. “This one,” he said softly, “matchesthe hue of your dress perfectly. I think you should have it. It suits you.”
The simple, heartfelt gesture made Sylvia’s heart flutter. As Lord Wesley handed her the rose, their hands briefly touched, sending a warm flush to her cheeks. She accepted the flower with a shy smile, her fingers trembling with nerves. This was the nicest thing that had ever happened to her, and for it to occur in the terrifying city of London was a real shock.
“Thank you, Lord Wesley,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “It is truly beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” he replied, his eyes holding hers in a lingering gaze.
The moment felt timeless, suspended in the fragrant air of the rose garden. Shock reverberated through Sylvia as she tried to process his words. It was surprising that Lord Wesley thought of her as beautiful when he had grown up surrounded by ladies such as Lady Arabella. But she could see in his eyes that he really meant what he said.
Did he know that he was making her fall for him? That she could not stop her heart from racing?
But all too soon, they had to return to the party so they did not arise suspicion with their long walk. As they approached the gathering, Sylvia immediately noticed Lady Victoria’s icy glare fixed upon her. The sharpness in her eyes was impossible to miss, and it sent a shiver down Sylvia’s spine.
This was exactly what she did not want. To draw unwanted attention to herself. But she also could not ignore the way that she desired to spend all her time with Lord Wesley.
Unfortunately, another gentleman caught Lord Wesley’s attention, leaving Sylvia momentarily alone. In that fleeting moment, Lady Victoria seized the opportunity, striding over to Sylvia with an air of cold determination. She leaned in close, her voice a harsh whisper that shocked her to her very core.
“Stay away from my son,” Lady Victoria hissed, her words dripping with venom. There was no mistaking her intense anger “I know your type. You are nothing but a fortune seeker, hoping to ensnare a wealthy husband. You will not succeed with Wesley, so I suggest you walk away now before you embarrass yourself further.”
Sylvia felt the sting of the accusation like a physical blow. Her breath caught in her throat, and a whirlwind of hurt and indignation swirled within her. She struggled to maintain her composure, her mind reeling from the unexpected confrontation. She wanted to defend herself but did not know how.
“Lady Victoria,” she began, her voice trembling but resolute, “I do not know why you think this of me, but…”
“Spare me your platitudes,” Lady Victoria interrupted sharply before Sylvia could really say anything. “I see right through your charade. Mark my words, Lady Sylvia, you will not be welcome in our family. You are not welcome to even talk to my son. If you ruin his chance at a suitable connection then the consequences for you will be dire.”
With that, Lady Victoria turned on her heels and stalked away, leaving Sylvia standing there, her emotions in turmoil. The joyous warmth she had felt moments ago now seemed distant and fragile. She clutched the pink rose in her hand, its delicate petals a stark contrast to the harsh words that had been thrown at her.
She tried to search the garden, to seek out a friendly face, but she could not seem to see anyone. Aunt Grace and George were nowhere to be found, and she could not see Lady Harriet either. It was as if she was very much alone in this horrible moment. Stewing in the words of a woman who hated her.
This was why Sylvia did not like it here. This was what she despised. Why did London have to be so hard?
