Chapter 8 IN THE WAKE OF OTHERS

One of the most powerful families in the nation, the Wellington home was a vast estate on the outskirts of the city, evidence of its immense riches and power. The marble statues at the gate and the beautifully kept hedges lining the spacious road were mere evidence of the property's seeming richness. The interior was adorned with one-of-a-kind artwork, beautiful crystal chandeliers that glowed above like stars, and a strong scent of luxury. The flooring is with recently refinished mahogany.

Arnold sat at the big table, gazing down at his breakfast, which remained unfinished. The room filled with hushed talk and the clinking of cutlery around him. Lord Wellington, his father, sat at the head of the table, frowning as he read financial reports; Lady Wellington, his mother, sipped her tea carefully, gazing at her husband every so often. The scene was ordinary, but Arnold felt anything but.

He could not get Ivy off his mind. She had been like a persistent shadow in his thoughts ever since their last encounter at the charity event. Even in the most ordinary situations, her laugh, grin, and the way she looked at him, all of this haunted him. What bothered him the most was the fact that he was starting to have feelings for her.

Arnold had never been one for deep emotions. He had lived his life as a carefree playboy, hopping from one casual affair to another, never allowing himself to feel anything deeper than fleeting attraction. But Ivy had changed that. Now that she was deeply rooted in his mind, he felt as though marrying Isabella would be a betrayal of both Ivy and himself.

"Arnold," his father said, slicing through his own monologue and bringing him back to reality. "Are you listening?"

Arnold blinked, glancing up at his father. "Sorry, what was that?"

Mr. Wellington frowned, lowering his financial report. "Have you decided on the details for the engagement party?" I asked. We have just one week left; therefore, we cannot afford any errors.

"Right, the party," Arnold muttered, pushing his plate away. "I'll handle it."

"You'll handle it?" Mr. Wellington's voice grew sharp. "This isn't some casual gathering. This is a crucial moment for our family. This is the royal family we are talking about, and your engagement to Isabella solidifies our alliance. This is about more than just a wedding, Arnold. This is about our future."

Arnold balled his fists beneath the table, crushing himself under his father's words. "I understand," he said.

But the truth was, he didn't. Not anymore. Arnold disagreed with his father's practical views on partnerships, marriage, and business dealings. Now, the idea of getting married to Isabella felt like a noose slowly tightening around his throat and choking him.

Lady Wellington glanced at her son, sensing the tension. "Arnold, dear," she said softly, "we just want what's best for you. It is a good family, and Isabella is a lovely girl. She'll make a wonderful wife."

Arnold forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Of course, Mother."

He was screaming inside of him. He wanted to tell them the truth, confessing that he couldn't marry Isabella because he had fallen for someone else. But he knew his father would never understand. To Lord Wellington, emotions were irrelevant. All that mattered to his father was securing the family's legacy, and Arnold's marriage to Isabella was just one of the steps in achieving that.

While other topics were discussed, Arnold's thoughts strayed. He needed to tell his dad that he was not able to proceed with the engagement. But how could he? How could he betray the family's expectations?

Arnold headed to the library after breakfast, the only room in the mansion where he felt somewhat at ease. With the aroma of ancient books filling the room, it was peaceful as he took a seat in a leather armchair.

He had to tell his father the truth. There was no other option. He couldn't marry Isabella-not when his heart belonged to Ivy.

The library door opened just as he was about to go look for his father. Lord Wellington was there, looking as serious as ever.

"Arnold," his father said, stepping into the room. "I've been thinking. We need to discuss the final details of the engagement. Prince Edward is expecting-"

"Father," Arnold called out with a firm but tense voice. "I need to talk to you."

"What's that?" Lord Wellington asked.

Arnold swallowed hard, his heart racing. This was it. The moment of truth. "I can't marry Isabella," he blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

The room fell into a heavy silence. Lord Wellington stared at his son; his expression unreadable. For a moment, Arnold thought his father might explode with anger, but instead, Lord Wellington's voice came out cold and calm.

"And why, exactly, can't you marry Isabella?" he asked, his tone dangerously low.

Arnold hesitated, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. He couldn't tell his father about Ivy-not yet. But he also couldn't lie. "Because I don't love her," he said finally. "I can't marry someone I don't love."

Lord Wellington's eyes narrowed. "Love?" he scoffed. "Since when has love had anything to do with marriage? This isn't about your feelings, Arnold. This is about our family, about securing our future. You're a Wellington, and that comes with responsibilities."

Arnold raised his voice and exclaimed, "But I can't live like this." "I cannot live a life stuck in an unfulfilling marriage, solely to fulfill a business agreement."

Lord Wellington's expression hardened. "You will marry Isabella," he said coldly. "And you will do it for this family. Your personal feelings are irrelevant."

Arnold felt a surge of anger and frustration well up inside him. "I can't do it, Father. I won't."

The library door opened once more, and Lady Wellington entered with worried looks before Lord Wellington could reply. She sensed the tension between the father and son and inquired, "What's going on?"

Arnold shook his head, unable to find the words. He couldn't keep fighting this battle. Not here, not now.

Without another word, he stormed out of the library, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed to think. He needed to escape the suffocating walls of the mansion, if only for a moment.

Moving up the hallway, he went by Sarah, the head maid who had worked for the household for as long as he could remember. Although she was cleaning up as usual, she paused and arched her brow in concern upon noticing Arnold's disturbed countenance.

"Master Arnold," she said softly, "is everything all right?"

Arnold paused, his feelings from the altercation with his father still raw. Knowing Sarah since he was a young lad, she had always been a confidante to him. He also needed someone to confide in at that moment.

"No, Sarah," he admitted, his voice low. "Something's been bothering me."

Sarah looked at him with the kind of understanding only someone who had known him for years could have. "You know you can always talk to me, Master Arnold," she said gently. "What's troubling you?"

With a groan, Arnold ran a hand over his hair. He murmured, "It's complicated." "There is an individual... Someone I've had the pleasure of meeting."

Sarah's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't say anything. She simply waited for him to continue.

"She's different," Arnold said quietly, his mind drifting to Ivy. "I can't stop thinking about her, but I'm engaged to Isabella. And now, everything's a mess."

Sarah's expression softened, and she placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Love is never simple, Master Arnold," she said softly. "But you must be careful. This situation... it won't be easy to navigate."

"I know," Arnold muttered. "But I don't know what to do. "I feel as though my heart and my family's expectations are at odds with each other." "In the wake of others."

Sarah sighed, compassion lighting up her eyes. "You are in a tough situation but just know that I will be here for you no matter what you decide."

Arnold nodded, grateful for her kindness. "Thank you, Sarah."

He felt less alone, at least, even though his thoughts as he left her remained hazy. Although his future remained uncertain, one thing was becoming increasingly clear: he could no longer deny that Ivy had a particular place in his heart.