Page 4 of The Marquess’s Masked Archer

They’d had the same discussion several times since Matilda had helped Sylvie concoct her plan. The argument Sylvie made to try to convince herself that the job wasn’t a problem lacked any basis in reality. There was no question her mother would be livid if she knew Sylvie was employed, and even more so because she was performing a very public archery demonstration at the Cedar Point resort. Mother would never understand Sylvie’s need to prove she was capable of doing something big by herself. No parents arranging things, no husband to take care of her, no expectations for her to conform to. Just Sylvie, learning whether or not she could succeed.

Not to mention the opportunity to earn money of her own might give her a bit of leverage in standing up against her mother’s plans if it came down to it.

But Delia, sweetheart that she was, shook her head in surrender, freeing Sylvie’s breath to flow once again. “Of course not, miss. But please take care. It’ll be terrible for both of us if she does learn about it.”

A weight of responsibility settled over Sylvie, heavier by far than the cloak she removed and tucked back behind her gowns. Delia was right. If Mother learned that the maid had helped Sylvie, she would be punished, most likely with more severity than Sylvie would. “I will do my absolute best.”

Delia nodded and slipped out of Sylvie’s room, leaving her alone with the burden of what she was trying to do. It was terrifying to wonder if she could trust herself, but they would both simply have to believe Sylvie’s best could be enough.

Miles lowered his binoculars to make a notation on the notepad in his lap. On both sides of him, a queue of other researchers and students sat in wooden chairs, all intent on their own observations. Behind them, the laboratory sat on a sandy bluff facing the lake. While it was a research facility, it also housed many of the students and a few faculty members. The design was charming, with warm brown siding and carved banisters installed along the balconies overlooking the water, but the sparse living quarters were still similar to what students would find on campus, which didn’t appeal to Miles in the least anymore.

“Is that a blue heron, Professor Wentworth?” Miss Fording, the female student on his right, spoke in a hushed whisper, as did any of them when they had something to say. No one wanted to scare off the birds they hoped to examine.

“Yes, it is. You’ll want to add that to your list.”

“I’ll be sure to. Isn’t it wonderful how God put such care into making His creation beautiful and filled with variety?”

If only the Almighty would put as much care into the direction of Miles’s life, he might have a relationship with God like his mother and Alexander did. He couldn’t say that aloud, so Miles nodded while the young woman turned away with a shy smile. She was pretty, he supposed. The male students vied for her attention at any opportunity, anyway. But even if he hadn’t decided to stay away from personal relationships with the students, Miles had only been able to think about Miss Bryce in the two days since the ball.

A sudden burst of nervous energy spurred him out of his chair. Not wanting to disturb the others’ work, Miles retreated a few paces down the shore and knelt at the edge of the lapping water. There was usually plenty to distract him there. While no one from his past would believe it, Miles had developed a deep fascination with marine insects. How such tiny creatures could thrive in conditions that conspired to kill them at every turn amazed him.

But it was almost painful to acknowledge God’s handiwork in that design, which Miss Fording had pointed out. In England, Miles had faced responsibilities and expectations he wasn’t ready for and didn’t want. The judgments of others had been enough to suffocate him. Where was the God who cared about creatures as tiny as these insects then?

No, he was better off here in America, with the freedom to make his own choices. He could build the life he wanted. Not to mention how much of a relief it was living where no one looked at him and saw a murderer.

Miles leaned closer to the water, watching a swarm of hexagenia—mayflies—rising out of the mud. He let his hands do the familiar work of sketching one on the paper he still held while his mind wandered. The insects reminded him of the ball two nights ago, the way a swarm of ladies had surrounded him the moment Alexander introduced him as a marquess. They’d all made assumptions about who he was and what he wanted, the same way people had in England. He wasn’t a murderer, and he didn’t want to be a marquess.

But no one seemed interested in allowing him to simply be an unknown entomologist.

A spray of sand hitting grass nearby alerted him to someone approaching. One of his fellow professors at the laboratory for the summer, zoologist Henry Saiger, crouched next to him. “Find anything interesting?”

Miles shook his head. “Just the usual. A few hexagenia. I think there are some chrionomus annularius, although I can’t tell from this far if they’re midges or mosquitoes.”

“Well, the rest of us have finished and are heading up to eat supper. We decided to go over to the resort tomorrow. Care to join us?”

For a moment, Miles almost refused. He hated allowing openings for conversations to turn personal rather than being about insects, marine animals, or even botany. He was terrible at managing the inquisitive stares and questions he didn’t want to answer, which always accompanied social situations. Yes, people intended to be polite. But curiosity lurked behind their interested expressions, and curiosity far too often led to assumptions based on snippets of information.

On the other hand, he would be working with this group of professors and students all summer. And a large part of him wanted to prove he could build a life with more in it than work and research. “That sounds nice. I’d like to go.”

Henry jumped to his feet with a grin. “Great. We’ll leave after breakfast so we have plenty of time to see as many of the amusements as possible. I hear they’ve expanded their offerings even more this summer.”

Miles bid Henry and the others good night as they left. He remained at the shore a little longer, completing his drawing of the insects and taking a few notes on their behavior as the hour grew later and the temperature cooled. Eventually, his stomach rumbled enough to convince him it was time to return to the Loftons’ house.

The trip required a walk across the peninsula to the resort dock, where Miles boarded a steamer that would take him straight to South Bass Island. From there, he only had a short walk to Grace and Alexander’s summer home. It was a bit more complicated than going between the science department and his lodgings at Cornell, but the beautiful scenery made up for it. Plus, it was a nice change to live in a more comfortable environment than the student housing and rented rooms he’d occupied since coming to America. Perhaps it was time to consider something more permanent after he finished his time at the laboratory.

Entering the lamplit house after the trip back, Miles gave his hat to the waiting butler as he strode through the foyer. It was a grand structure, built with all the excess most of the island’s homes boasted. But Grace had made it feel warmer and more welcoming than many similar mansions he’d experienced. As he passed Alexander’s study, his friend called for him to stop in.

Miles dropped into one of the chairs across an expensive, gleaming desk from Alexander. The other man leaned back in his own chair and raised an eyebrow. “Good evening, Miles. Discover anything exciting about the bugs today?”

The comment was accompanied by a familiar teasing smile, but Miles didn’t need it to know Alexander wasn’t expressing interest in the research. Not that he was being unkind either. They’d grown close during their years at Cornell due to running together on the track team, but their other pursuits couldn’t have been more different. Alexander had returned to Cleveland to grow his father’s business ventures, while Miles…well, he studied bugs. It didn’t sound like much, but it was what he loved. And he’d never imagined he’d be free to pursue his passion.

“Nothing exciting, unfortunately. And you? Did you secure ownership of Standard Oil yet?”

They both grinned at the running joke they’d shared for years. Neither had any interest in the other’s field of work, but that didn’t hinder their friendship. It was one of the few solid parts of Miles’s life since the day his safe, sheltered world had been destroyed. Being accused of murder at the age of sixteen tended to rattle one’s sense of security.

As if he could sense the direction of Miles’s thoughts without the entire story, Alexander sobered. “Miles, I know you only came here for the summer to do your research program at the laboratory. But why are you so resistant to also enjoying yourself? More than a few ladies went home from the ball the other night disappointed because of your dismissal.”

Miles rubbed the back of his neck, which had grown hot. He hadn’t behaved well. He could admit that. But why did those women have to bother with him in the first place? He was simply a scientist wanting to focus on his research. “I’m not resistant to enjoying the time I’m here. In fact, I’m going to join the other researchers and students at the Cedar Point resort tomorrow. I’m certain it will be enjoyable. It’s only romance I’m not interested in at the moment.”