Page 47 of The Marquess’s Masked Archer

Her ominous words created a knot deep in his stomach. “Miss Casburn, I’m sorry for the way I handled things before I left. I hope you can forgive me. I’m interested in pursuing Miss Bryce, and I didn’t want to continue taking up your time or attention when you should be trying to get to know other gentlemen, ones whose hearts are free to care for you.”

When the trio of women following behind her tittered amongst themselves, Miss Casburn blanched. Then she tossed her head, chin jutting into the air. “You can cast yourself as a hero if you want, but you might find yourself out of chances tonight. What makes you believe Miss Bryce waited for you?”

While he didn’t need to explain himself to her, Miss Casburn’s smug tone caused Miles to pause. Did she know something about Sylvie and Mr. Kinsey that Miles didn’t? “I already declared my feelings for her in a letter I wrote during my journey. At the very least, I’m certain she would be kind enough to have written in response and refused me if she intended to accept someone else so quickly.”

Arching an eyebrow, Miss Casburn twisted her lips into a smirk. “We’ll see if you’re correct. The news of your...unsavory past is no longer your little secret. Even if you could convince Miss Bryce, her parents would be another matter entirely.”

A terrible urgency came over Miles as she sauntered away with the other ladies, whispering together. She was up to something, as she had been the entire summer. And who knew what Sylvie’s parents had heard about his past from her. He needed to clear this up right away so he could get to Sylvie before Miss Casburn did any more damage. He didn’t want any more sneaking around, hiding in shadows, or keeping secrets. So instead of continuing to the ballroom, he returned to the foyer and stopped to ask Mr. Moreau, “Where would I find the other gentlemen? Particularly Mr. Thomas Bryce. I have some business with him.”

Sure enough, he directed Miles to the smoking room, where the older men tended to spend most of their time at events such as this. Giving his thanks, Miles headed in that direction. He would admit to his past and get approval from Sylvie’s father first, permission to court her. Then he would be free to say whatever felt appropriate when he saw her without anything standing in their way.

Entering the smoking room, Miles found a dozen or so of the richest men in Ohio lounging in leather chairs or speaking in small groups. Dark paneled walls and sturdy, matching wood trim reminded Miles of his father’s study back home. Swallowing hard against a sudden feeling of not belonging, Miles forced himself to enter the space. A few of the men nearest the door glanced his way, but Miles mustered false confidence as he made his way straight for Mr. Bryce, who stood at the far side of the room with two other men.

Begging God for courage and to grant him favor, Miles approached the group and cleared his throat, causing all three men to look at him in expectation. Mr. Bryce’s eyes widened, but Miles didn’t bother with small talk. “Good evening, gentlemen. Mr. Bryce, might I have a word with you?”

Mr. Bryce pursed his lips, but he nodded and withdrew to a more private corner of the room with Miles following. Miles swallowed again before launching into a speech he wished he’d had more time to plan out. “Sir, I intended to spend the summer completely focused on my research at the laboratory. But your daughter has captivated me. She is kind, beautiful, amusing, intelligent, and so courageous. I’ve fallen quite in love with her.”

He paused, expecting distaste in the older man’s expression. Instead, Mr. Bryce listened intently. “My wife has concerns about you, young man. Well-founded ones, in my opinion.”

Aware of time passing, Miles didn’t shy away from it. “I would like to explain the entire situation to you as soon as there’s an opportunity. For now, please believe that I was innocent and exonerated by the court. It was all hearsay, even if public opinion didn’t accept that.”

Another pause to observe Mr. Bryce’s reaction. He didn’t stop Miles, so he continued. “Now that I’ve concluded my business in England, I would be honored if you would permit me to ask Sylvie to be my wife. Or at the very least, to call on her and work toward that goal. I can gain your trust, sir, even if I don’t fully have it now. I love your daughter and respect her too much to do anything that would jeopardize her future. I only want the opportunity to prove myself.”

With narrowed eyes, Mr. Bryce regarded Miles for a long moment. Then he nodded. “I believe you. I’ll do what I can to smooth things over with my wife. But you’ll be facing some competition. Jonathan Kinsey has been spending a great deal of time with Sylvie since you left.”

Cold spread over Miles, starting with his heart before overtaking the rest of him. “Has he already spoken with you too?”

With a chagrined shrug, Mr. Bryce raised one eyebrow. “I believe most people in Cleveland society know whose opinion matters in this sort of thing. My wife has championed him and very likely has given him her own permission to do as he sees fit.”

A sliver of relief cut through the chill. She wasn’t engaged. Miles still had time. “Thank you, sir. I’ll take the very best care of her.”

He didn’t stay to hear any response, hurrying instead back out to the staircase, too anxious to see Sylvie for himself and work out the truth behind her silence. Had she turned her attention to Jonathan Kinsey, the same as her mother? Had her heart been swayed by him in Miles’s absence?

The only way to know for certain was to find Sylvie. Miles’s steps quickened as he headed toward the ballroom.

CHAPTER 23

The evening progressed at a sluggish pace. Every time Sylvie glanced at her mother, the other woman was scrutinizing her, almost as if she thought Sylvie would try to run away. But it was a ball like any other. Ladies in their finest gowns gossiping about each other, gentlemen trying not to look as uncomfortable and bored as they felt, and young women fighting through overdone politeness to make the best impression on the most eligible man they could.

It was a scene Sylvie had endured with annoyance many times, but without Miles, she simply didn’t have the will to try to act the part she used to.

By the time two hours had passed, Sylvie’s feet ached in her slippers, which were pretty rather than practical. The pins holding her intricate hairstyle in place poked her head, causing a throbbing headache. And the delicate finger food at the refreshment table wasn’t doing anything to make up for the midday meal she missed while practicing with her bow.

So when Lucy appeared between dancing couples and hurried toward Sylvie and her mother, Sylvie prepared herself for the evening to get even worse.

Instead of making polite conversation with them, Lucy tugged Mother’s arm and leaned in close to whisper in her ear. The two went back and forth in intense but hushed tones for a moment, the music and voices making it impossible for Sylvie to make out what they were saying. Finally, Lucy straightened, cast Sylvie a smug glance, and sashayed away, disappearing back into the crowd.

Mother’s forehead creased. Was she conflicted about whatever Lucy had said? She almost seemed…unsure. But that was so unlike her. She turned to Sylvie as if to speak, only to snap her lips shut again. Then, without a word, she rushed in the opposite direction from where Lucy had gone. Sylvie stood alone, staring at the activity of the ball going on around her without seeing it.

When Matilda approached with her fiancé at her heels and snapped her fingers in front of Sylvie’s face, it finally broke the haze of confusion. “What on earth has you so perplexed, Sylvie?”

Turning to her friend, she could only shrug. “Lucy came over and whispered something to my mother, then they both just left. I have a terrible feeling something unusual is going on. And if Lucy is involved, I’m not going to like it.”

Before Matilda could suggest any possible answers, Mother returned with Jonathan at her heels. His chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths, which made Sylvie’s scalp prickle. “What’s wrong, Jonathan? Mother? Someone explain what’s happening right this instant.”

With hardly a glance in Sylvie’s direction, Mother clinked a fork against the glass in her hand, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Too many eyes turned to stare at them, all that curious attention almost enough to send Sylvie running from the room.

Mother pushed up on her tiptoes to allow as many people as possible to see her. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you’ll bear with me for a moment, as there’s about to be some joyous news for my family. Mr. Kinsey?”