Amanda StoNeS
Historical Regency Romance Author
The Earl's DemureSpinster
First Chapters
Prologue
Two years ago…
“Father?” Sylvia asked quietly as she sat beside his bed.
She needed to know if he was awake and hungry, but she did not wish to disturb him from rest. It had been a long time since he had switched off, and the last thing she wanted to do was see him in pain once more.
Watching him writhe as the agony ricocheted through him, knowing that there was very little that she could do for him, was heart-breaking.
“Father, do you need anything?”
He did not answer. His thick, labored breaths suggested that he had drifted off, so this would be a moment to herself. Finally. Not that Sylvia was going to take this time to relax or enjoy herself. How could she even think about picking up a novel to read, or her crocheting to do, when her father was so pale?
She reached out and adjusted the covering draped over him, tucking it snugly around his delicate form. His skin felt icy to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth he had always exuded in the past, the warmth that had given her the happiest childhood ever. It was as if the illness had drained not only his strength but also his very essence.
The vicarage they lived in was tranquil and beautiful, a safe haven in the countryside for Sylvia until recently. Now the quiet felt stifling, like it filled her lungs and made it hard for her to catch her breath. It taunted her and reminded her just how alone she really was. At two and twenty years of age, Sylvia had been considered an adult for a very long time now, but as her father withered away in front of her, she truly felt like she was ten years old again. The same age she was when her mother passed away.
At the time, Sylvia thought that was the worst thing that could happen to her. She had been so terrified of her world changing – which of course it had done – but this was a million times worse. If she did not have her father, then she would not have anyone. She had never anticipated being an orphan, but now it seemed like she was going to have to find a way to come to terms with the idea. Otherwise she would be ill prepared for what was likely to come.
She sighed to herself as the morning light softly illuminated the room, casting a warm glow on the simple, yet meaningful, items around her father’s bed side, which were there to give him comfort as he suffered his unbearable illness.
Sylvia reached out and wrapped her fingers around the small, hand painted portrait of her mother. The moment caught in time was glorious. Her mother had been such a beautiful woman, with long wavy brunette hair and sparkling blue eyes that seemed to really see Sylvia, even through the delicate brush strokes. It captured the essence of her mother, exactly as Sylvia remembered her. Friendly and sweet with a laugh that seemed to light up any room that she was in.
Sylvia wanted to emulate her mother. It was all she wanted in her life. She would have loved nothing more than to be like that woman, but she did not know if she could ever be as angelic as her. As perfect in the eyes of the community, and as beloved by all.
Where her mother had always been a light in her life, her father was always a robust pillar of strength and wisdom, until now. Him lying frail and weary was horrible. His presence, which had always been a constant source of guidance, was fading, leaving Sylvia with a profound sense of impending loss. Her heart felt empty, her chest icy cold, she could hardly breathe as the weight of her father’s illness pressed down on her shoulders.
Yet, amidst the despair, Sylvia knew she had to summon the strength to be there for him, just as he had always been there for her. She was all he had, and she wanted to honor that.
Gently placing the portrait back on the bedside table, Sylvia leaned closer to her father, studying his face for any sign of discomfort. His brows furrowed slightly, a silent indication of the pain he was enduring even in his sleep. Sylvia’s heart clenched with the urge to alleviate his suffering, but she knew that some battles could not be fought with mere love and determination.
“Sylvia?” She jumped as his voice filled the room. It was quiet, but the impact his word had on Sylvia was monumental. “You are so strong.”
Tears filled Sylvia’s eyes. In this cocoon of their shared history and love, Sylvia knew that he was the reason she had any strength. His teachings, the way that he raised her, it was wonderful. She wanted to continue to make him proud, forever.
“Tha… thank you, Father,” she just about managed to choke out. “You do not know how much those words mean to me. I appreciate it, so very much.”
He reached out for her hand, and Sylvia took it. He was still weak, but he did his best to squeeze her, to let her know through silent communication that he was there for her. They had always been able to communicate without words, which was extremely useful now.
“I am proud of you.” He rasped out with a gravely, thick tone. “I hope you have happiness in your life.”
“Oh, Father, you do not need to talk like that,” Sylvia insisted because his words chilled her to the bone. She did not wish for him to speak as if he did not have much time left.
“Do not neglect your happiness,” he continued as if he had not heard her. “In your dedication to other people.”
“I will not,” Sylvia choked back. “I will be happy. But you do not need to worry about that. Let us just focus on you for the time being.”
Her father grunted back, but did not give her any more words. It was as if he did not have the strength to get any more words out. Sylvia’s heart sunk even further. The last thing that she wanted to do was have a strong sense of helplessness and hopelessness overcoming her, but it was creeping through her regardless.
How on earth was she going to get through this? Especially as it seemed like her father was slipping away. The chances of him improving were decreasing by the moment…
***
Sylvia had spent her days talking to her father about everything that she was now reflecting upon. Her father had instilled in her so many lessons of kindness, faith, and purpose. As she watched him gently slip away, Sylvia needed to focus on these lessons, to keep the grief from swallowing her up whole. She knew that her father would not want that. He would like her to forge her own path, honoring his legacy.
Every tear that Sylvia wiped away from her cheeks was for him. For how important he had been to her, and how important he was always going to be to her, no matter what happened today.
It truly seemed like there were only moments left, and Sylvia would not even call the doctor to come, because she knew that her father would much prefer for him to be just the two of them as he slipped to the other side.
“I will be everything you wish me to be, Father,” Sylvia promised as she felt life sliding from him. “I will be the daughter you desire. No matter what challenges come my way, I will face them with grace and decorum. I will have a rational mind at all times, I will always act in the way that you have taught me to act.” She sucked in a shaky breath, trying not to succumb wholly to the sadness just yet. “I will pursue my own identity and dreams. I will look for the sort of love that Mother and you shared, I will…”
Unfortunately at that moment, Sylvia became incapable of holding everything inside any longer. She let her head fall forwards and the sadness consume her. It was a relief to her, to know that her mother and father would be reunited after death, but she was not sure what she was supposed to do alone. She knew that she had noble family members on her mother’s side of the family, but she did not know if they would accept her. Her mother had defied expectations by marrying a lowly vicar.
Perhaps she really was going to have to find a way to live life all by herself.
But she did not want to burden her father with this. Not during his last few moments of life, so instead she decided to squeeze his hand a little harder, and to keep reciting prayer for him so he would be comfortable as he finally lost the battle with his life…
Chapter One
Present day,
Spring 1811, En Route from Bath to London
If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.
It was a simple line in the novel that Sylvia had been reading recently, but it struck her hard.
Perhaps that was why she still, even after two years, did not talk about her father much. She always thought that time would make it easier to remember him, and to speak after his death, but every single time she tried, it was like there was a thick lump of emotion that lodged in the base of her throat, almost bringing tears to her eyes.
That was not what this novel was talking about, but that was how Sylvia related to that line.
Little lines in novels like this had brought Sylvia comfort, which was why she spent most of her time with her head in a book. Losing herself in the lives of others was a lot more enjoyable than facing her own reality…
Not that her own reality was as dreadful as it could have been, Sylvia would never forget that. She could have been very much on her own, struggling through every single day. If her Aunt Grace had not needed her assistance while she recovered from a long illness of her own, then Sylvia might not have been accepted by anyone.
“Oh, I have missed traveling through the country,” her aunt declared as the carriage rumbled on, dragging Sylvia’s attention from her book. “It has been so long…”
Sylvia smiled. It was so lovely to see the color back in her aunt’s cheeks and to witness her renewed zest for life. There were times when Sylvia had worried that she might not see this moment, just as she had not been lucky enough to see it with her own father. But Aunt Grace had the sort of strength that Sylvia could only wish for.
“I am going to miss Bath, of course,” she continued with a hearty laugh. “But I am thoroughly thrilled to rejoin the social whirl of the London Season. The glamour, the dances, the dresses… oh my, dear Sylvia, I can not wait for you to see the dresses.”
A complex mix of apprehension and resignation stirred in Sylvia. She had always wanted to see the London Season with her own eyes. She could only imagine what it was like from what others told her and what she had read about. There was a part of her that could not wait to experience it first hand.
But she was also incredibly anxious to stand out. She might have been with her noble aunt, and had noble blood… but she had not grown up as a high born member of society. She had spent her days helping out her father in the vicarage, not learning the dance steps to every song that might be played at a ball. Not the required etiquette needed to be considered polite. Sylvia was terribly worried that she was going to stand out in the worst way possible.
“Yes,” she finally replied stoically. “I am sure it will be quite wonderful.”
“Oh, I can assure you, you are going to love it, Sylvia.” Aunt Grace turned to face her with a shining light in her eyes. “Actually, now that we are on the way to London, there is something more serious that I would like to discuss with you.”
“There is?” These words made Sylvia’s blood run ice cold. She bolted up a little straighter, trying to work out what her aunt might be referring to.
“Yes.” Aunt Grace reached out and held her hands softly before she continued talking. “Sylvia, I believe it would be wonderful for you to attend the Season. Not merely as my companion, but as my niece.”
Sylvia’s breath bundled in her throat. She understood the implications of that all too well, and that terrified her. If she went as her aunt’s niece, that would mean she would be coming out in to society, introducing herself to the world of high society as if she truly did belong there. Sylvia just knew that she would most certainly stand out if that happened. She would be expected to dance with gentlemen and even to court them, which truly seemed like a ridiculous notion.
Unfortunately, she could not find the right words to express this out loud.
“I would be most honoured to sponsor you, dear Sylvia, for I hold great faith in your potential. I believe such an opportunity would be a most splendid benefit for you. You are such a lovely and beautiful young woman who has dedicated her whole life to caring for others. It is time to do something for yourself. You need to step out from the shadows and in to society.”
This unexpected proposal left Sylvia wrestling with a whirlwind of emotions. “Aunt Grace, this is truly unexpected,” she gasped as she tried to wrap her head around this. “I am truly touched by your kindness, but I can not shake off the idea that I do not have a place in high society.”
“Oh, but you do. I will sponsor you as stated…”
“But I am merely a vicar’s daughter, not fit for the elite circles of London…”
Aunt Grace smiled reassuringly. “I will be there to guide you along the way, my dear, and I would not suggest this if I did not think you could handle it. I truly think you will enjoy it.”
Sylvia’s heart was racing, she felt like she could not control herself. Unfortunately, she had nowhere to run because she was trapped in a carriage. “I… I am a spinster, Aunt Grace,” she continued, allowing her worries to keep spilling out, which may not have been the best idea. “I fear that participating in the Season as a spinster will expose me to ridicule and a dismissal from the ton. I do not think that I will be accepted at all.”
“I see,” Aunt Grace replied with a soft smile. “I appreciate your concerns. While I believe there is no cause for alarm, I do recognise your feelings.”
Sylvia braced herself, waiting for more. There was a determination glimmering in her aunt’s eyes, which worried Sylvia because it usually meant that she was going to get her own way. Her aunt was so charming and sweet, that it was difficult for anyone to refuse her of anything that she wanted.
But there was nothing.
Aunt Grace said nothing, she did not press the issue at all. Instead, she allowed the conversation to hang in the air, with an aura of silent hope around her. Every time Sylvia tried to say something, to keep the conversation going, her mind went blank. There was nothing there, no words coming. She did not know what to say to all of this.
Instead of trying to talk, she allowed her eyes to drift out the window so she could gather up her thoughts. The worry that she had already been feeling about London intensified. No longer would she be able to hide in the shadows and observe from a distance. Now she was going to have to think about actually partaking.
But she could not envision herself as one of the heroines from her romance novels. She could not imagine herself enjoying the dresses and the dancing. Every time she pictured a ball room, she was in the center of it with a spot light dancing on her as everyone pointed and laughed at her. Sylvia could not even begin to imagine what terrible comments would be thrown her way, but she was all too aware that she was not going to like it.
The uncertainty of the palpable reality that lay ahead of her was utterly terrifying. The Season and the changes that could be brought into her life left her struggling for air. She had already been through so many shifts, she had already been forced to adjust to too many new realities that she was not ready for. But this was the scariest one of them all.
As they neared London, and the first sights of the city’s grandeur and its bustling streets caught her eye, Sylvia could see how woefully unprepared she was. This was a stark contrast to her now comfortable life in Bath. Trepidation filled her heart.
She could still recall the promises that she made to her father in his dying days. She said that she would be strong and graceful no matter what came her way, but she did not think it would be this.
What would my father say to me if he were still here? she wondered quietly to herself, but honestly there was no answer. She would not have found herself in this position had her parents lived. She would have still been at the vicarage in the countryside, living the life that she had always known. No fancy balls and big dresses, no one laughing at her or asking for her hand to dance. There might have been no adventure, but there also would not have been fear…
Chapter Two
One week later…
The spring sunshine was finally starting to light up the London streets in the early hours of the morning, which always left Wesley in a good mood. There was nothing quite like staring out the window to see the color of the streets shining outside of his ancestral town house. It always left him wondering what the day ahead might hold…
“My Lord.” But before he could get too lost in those thoughts, the house servant joined him in his bedchambers. “I am here to help you dress for breakfast.”
At the mere mention of food, Wesley’s stomach began to grumble. He had no idea what would be on the breakfast table, but his family had one of the best cooks in the city, so he knew that whatever was laid out in front of him would be delicious. He was very lucky in that regard.
As he dressed, he allowed his mind to wander, to consider all the society events that he had up and coming. It was time to plan for the grandeur of the Season, which was always the most exciting time of the year for the London ton. A whirlwind of balls, soirees, and social gatherings that would sweep him into a world of glamour and intrigue.
As he finished dressing, Wesley cast a final glance at himself in the mirror, adjusting his cravat with practiced precision. His reflection stared back, a vision of aristocratic elegance and poise. With a nod to the servant, Wesley made his way down the stairs to the dining room, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and buttered toast greeted him like an old friend.
“Good morning, Wesley,” his mother declared the moment he stepped into the room. “Your sister and I were just speaking of you.”
Wesley met Harriet’s eyes and saw his sister smile reassuringly at him. “You were?” he asked.
“Well, it is time for us to focus on your marital prospects, do you not think?” his mother continued. “We need to consider a strategic alliance, to ensure you marry right.”
Wesley just about managed to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He hated this sort of conversation, it sickened him to his stomach. He would always participate in these conversations with a polite detachment because he knew that was what his mother needed him to do, but he was always conflicted. Much as he loved to do what was best for his family, and he of course wanted to make his mother smile, he did not like the idea of marrying for strategy.
Deep down, his personal desire was to marry for love. He wanted joy in his life, and he did not think that marrying a woman he did not know well would help him to achieve that. But his mother did not want to hear about those desires. He had learned that very quickly. She wanted him to have a bride fit for the family name. It was exhausting.
“I was thinking that it might be interesting if I talk to the Thompson family,” his mother continued as if she could not sense his inner turmoil at all. “Their daughter, Rose, is a very well bred woman who I am sure will be a very fitting match for you.”
Wesley screwed up his face in horror. “Oh no, Mother. I do not think so. Rose and I have never had much to say to one another. She is not interested in anything that I am, and I have never been able to engage in a pleasant conversation with her.”
“You do not have to talk much.” His mother frowned. She was clearly unimpressed with his response. “You have friends that you can talk to. We are discussing your wife.”
“But Father and you used to converse with one another,” he reminded her. “You were each other’s dearest companions before his demise.”
***
Guilt flooded him the moment his mother’s eyes welled up. He did not mean to remind her of her heartache, but he did need her to see that he wanted the same for himself. He wanted love as well. Wesley did not think that he should be constrained from love just because he had been born into an aristocratic family. It was too much pressure on his shoulders and he could hardly stand it. He just wanted to be happy.
Luckily, Harriet who was far less constrained by societal expectations, tried her hardest to lighten the mood before things got too dark and they all sunk too deeply into the sadness that the head of their family was not around any longer.
“Have any of you seen the latest scandal sheet?” she asked, with clear delight. “It arrived early this morning and it spotlights my dear friend, Arabella. She has been referred to as the Season’s most coveted debutante.”
“Ooh, now Lady Arabella Easton, that is not someone I have thought of,” Wesley’s mother jumped in before the conversation could shift entirely. “As you both know, I am wonderful friends of the Duke and Duchess of Ervington. She might be a suitable match for you, Wesley.”
Harriet shot him an apologetic look. This was clearly not the way she wanted this to go, but their mother was a force to be reckoned with. There was nothing they could do about her. Even as the weight pushed down on Wesley’s shoulders, he knew that he could not quieten her down.
“I can not believe I did not think of Arabella,” his mother laughed. “Well, do not worry, Wesley. I have already extended an invitation to the family for dinner this evening, so perhaps we may commence our preparations at once, before the Season even commences.”
Wesley sighed and slumped his shoulders forward. Arabella was his sister’s friend. Once more, not an individual he had ever contemplated as a romantic prospect, yet his mother was now quite taken with the idea. He found himself at a loss as to how he might dissuade her from this notion..
***
Wesley was grateful that he had arranged to meet his best friend, Edward, for a horse ride in Hyde Park in the afternoon, because the atmosphere in the house had become stifling. Now that his mother was focusing on Arabella as a potential match, she had already become relentless. She needed to ensure that the dinner in the evening went absolutely perfectly to impress the duke and duchess, and to see if there was any progress to be made with her plans.
Wesley could hardly stand it.
“Hello there,” Edward cried from atop his horse, the moment he spotted Wesley. “Oh dear, how are you?”
Wesley could only shake his head. “Let us ride through the park a little first. I need to clear my head.”
Edward nodded understandingly, urging his horse forward to join Wesley’s side. They rode in companionable silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of hooves against the path providing a soothing backdrop to their thoughts.
As they meandered through the park, the weight of Wesley’s worries gradually lifted. The lush greenery and the gentle breeze stirred a sense of tranquility within him, offering a temporary escape from the pressures awaiting him at home.
Finally, as they reached a secluded spot by the lake, Wesley turned to Edward with a grateful smile. “Thank you, this ride has been the perfect balm to the nightmare I am suffering at home. My mother is now far too excited about the upcoming Season. She is determined to ensure that I find my marriage match this year.”
Edward nodded understandingly. “I see. Does she have any idea of who she would like you to marry?”
Wesley’s expression darkened. “Oh, she has a number of ideas. But this morning, I believe she settled on my sister’s friend, Lady Arabella Easton.”
“And that is not someone you are interested in?”
Wesley shook his head and shrugged his shoulders at the same time. “I do not know. I have never formed a genuine connection with her, and she has been in my life for years. I can not imagine that we have anything in common. I do not think my mother even considers that I want love in my life. I keep trying to tell her that I am not interested in a strategic match, but she will not hear me.”
Edward paused thoughtfully on this for just a moment. “Do you not think you can do both? Find a suitable match who you can also really develop something with?”
“If only. But I have not yet come across a Lady who I feel like I can talk to. Alas, there exists not a soul with whom I can share my time and cultivate mutual interests. Mayhap this Season shall unfold differently, yet I find myself unable to envision such a turn of events. I hold a flicker of hope, yet cannot shake the feeling of despondency. It seems as though my mother may arrange a marriage for me before I am fully prepared to embrace it.”
“Then it may need to be something that you finally prioritise.”
Those words sat heavy within Wesley.
He could not stop thinking about Edward’s advice, even as he got home.
He had to admit to himself that Edward was right. He had not ever prioritized the idea of finding love, because deep down he had the assumption that when the time was right, he would just know. He would feel the sparks of love and then he could think about romance and marriage.
But now there was a sense of urgency looming over him, and he could not restrain himself any longer. It truly was the moment to prioritize finding a woman who captured his heart and stirred within him all the emotions he had always assumed would accompany falling in love.
After leaving his horse with the stable boys, Wesley headed inside the house, heading straight for his father’s study. He often found refuge in this place because it allowed him to really feel his father’s spirit. Wesley had always loved his father, he was a warm and caring man who gave Wesley a good role model. Someone he had always looked up to. He had spent such a long time looking up to his father that he had not spent long enough emulating him.
Now, he had the weight of the title pressing down on him, and Wesley was worried about upholding his father’s memory well.
“What do I do?” Wesley murmured to himself, but it was almost as if he were reaching out to his father, willing him to answer. “How do I find a woman to marry who Mother is happy with, but who I also have feelings for? Who also makes me excited about the rest of my life?”
It seemed like an impossible task. The more that Wesley thought about it, the less he could think of a Lady whose company he had enjoyed. Throughout his life, he had been to many high society events, during which time he had danced with and talked with a variety of women. But he could hardly recall any of them, which was a real shame. There was no one he could think of that he would like to spend more time with.
But of course, Wesley did not get any answers. He did not immediately know what to do, and his father was not about to answer him from the grave. This was something he needed to do all by himself. Somehow.
Perhaps tonight, he should open up his heart a little to Lady Arabella Easton, just in case there was something there. Maybe if he gave her a chance, he would discover much more to her. Her family was friends with his, which had to be a good sign, right?
He could only hope so as he left the study and went to dress in his finest suit. He did not have a lot of hope in his heart right now, but he was certainly going to try and view this night as an opportunity, rather than something to dread instead.
***
“Welcome, Your Graces,” Wesley’s mother said to Charles and Winifred Easton, the Duke and Duchess of Ervington as she plastered a bright smile on her face. “And how lovely it is to see you, Lady Arabella Easton. Thank you so much for coming to our home.” She stepped to one side and made a sweeping gesture with her hands. “And of course you already know my children, Lord Wesley Montclair, and Lady Harriet Montclair.”
She was being far more formal than she needed to be in her desire to impress. Wesley struggled to hold his embarrassment inside as he greeted everyone. This was not going to be easy, but he was still trying his hardest to tackle this with an open mind. He was especially warm and friendly to Arabella, because he was trying to give her a chance.
Eventually, they headed into the dining hall where the wonderful smelling food filled their nostrils. As they settled into their seats around the grand dining table, the atmosphere seemed to settle a little. Wesley’s mother, with her impeccable hosting skills, led the conversation with practiced grace, guiding it away from any potentially awkward topics.
Wesley kept stealing glances at Arabella, who seemed to be holding her own amidst the formalities. He could not help but notice that she kept pulling her face every time someone talked. She did not seem impressed by any of this, which made his heart harden a little.
“Lady Arabella, are you excited for the Season?” Harriet asked her, trying to engage her in conversation, and maybe to show Wesley more of her personality.
“Oh… yes, I am sure there will be some fun parties,” she shot back scathingly, taking a very different tone to the way that Harriet had addressed her. It was a strange attitude that seemed to come from nowhere.
Harriet furrowed her brows, confused by Arabella. “You must be thrilled to be named the Season’s most coveted debutante.”
“Only in the scandal sheets,” Arabella dismissed. “I do not think that is anything worth listening to. I would much prefer to hear that once the Season has actually started, from people who know what they are talking about. But I am sure that will happen.”
“Yes,” Harriet whispered back as her eyes hit the table underneath her. “I am sure it will too.”
Even Harriet seemed stunned by the bad attitude of her friend. Wesley was surprised also, but less so than his sister because he had been observing her parents much closer too. Usually, he would attend these dinners with a disengaged attitude. He would be there in body, but not in mind. So seeing the way that the duke and duchess acted, like they were on a pedestal as well, made him less shocked.
She was clearly very much a product of how she had been raised.
He really had come into this evening, trying to have the most open mind possible, but the way that Arabella was behaving had his walls drawing back up. This was unlikely to be the woman he was going to fall for. His mother would probably still pursue Arabella as his best marriage option, but Welsey was already less convinced.
He would not close off the idea of her just yet, but it was going to be increasingly difficult to keep talking to her while she was behaving like this…
***
Wesley was exhausted as dinner came to an end, but he had to keep the smile plastered across his face as his mother took the Duke and him to the parlor for drinks. Nervously, he grabbed a drink and sipped it as he sensed the conversation was about to shift.
“I think you are right, Lady Victoria,” Charles declared as he smiled at Wesley’s mother. “I think that we should discuss the potential advantages of a union between our families.”
Wait.
When did that conversation happen?
It must have gone on around the dinner table while Wesley was distracted. He could hardly breathe as he realized that this was already spiraling out of his control. He planned to tell his mother to halt the idea of him marrying Arabella as soon as he could or mayhap it was already too late for that.
“I am glad you think it is an interesting prospect,” his mother agreed. “I am glad that it is something we can discuss. I am sure it will be hugely beneficial to both of our families.”
“You have made some very good points. I am intrigued to discuss this further with you.”
Wesley deflated.
He could not wait to retreat to the solitude of his bedchamber so he could wrap his head around it all. This had been a very confusing evening for him, and he most definitely needed to process it before he could make a decision of what his next move would be.
The thought of marrying Arabella, even with all of its strategic benefits, did not sit right with him. He had always thought that he wanted a relationship that went beyond the calculated engagements of high society. Wesley really did want love, real love, and he could not imagine finding it with Lady Arabella Easton, who had done nothing but prove that she really thought that she was better than everyone else.
How she was friends with his sister, Wesley would never understand. Harriet was so sweet and lovely to everyone around her, whereas Arabella did not seem that way at all. It was sickening to see how she treated Harriet with disdain, as if she would never be as good as herself. Wesley was most definitely going to have to keep an eye on that, to ensure that Arabella did not upset his sister. He did not like that idea at all.
As for marrying her for strategic reasons… Well, that was never going to happen. He was simply going to have to find a way to make his mother understand that. One way or another.