Page 16 of The Marquess’s Masked Archer

Despite her nod, Sylvie couldn’t follow through. The mere thought of lying to Mr. Wentworth by claiming Lucy would be an appropriate match for him made her gag. She would have to do all she could to avoid him. Today and at every society event for the summer.

Surely, she could manage that small feat.

Disappointment flooded Miles when the race began and he still hadn’t caught even a glimpse of Miss Bryce on the beach. She was there somewhere. He’d found her parents under one of the tents and had a brief conversation with them during which Mrs. Bryce assured him her daughter had come along with them. He’d even asked her friend, Miss Duboise, who mentioned her surprise over not seeing Miss Bryce yet either.

Was something wrong? Had something happened to her once she departed from her parents?

Or was she avoiding him?

Miles wracked his memories. Had she realized he knew her secret identity, leading her to cut off contact with him to protect herself? But how could she have done? He’d been so careful at the resort the other day.

No, there must be something else. And his sinking suspicion was that he’d been too excited after their successful demonstration, that he’d pushed too hard about practicing in secret. Of course, she would balk at meeting him alone in the woods. How ridiculous of him to even believe such an idea worth mentioning. She might have hidden depths of strength, courage, and independence, but she was still a lady with perfect manners and a reputation that should be protected, not sullied. He’d been a fool. Perhaps he should put more of his energy into attempting to court her through letters, after all, if he was going to fail so completely in person.

A cheer rose from some of the crowd, pulling his attention back to the current event. Next to him, Alexander wasn’t paying the least bit of attention, instead focused on keeping his wife as comfortable as possible and making her giggle with silly antics. Miles had noticed his friend’s tendency to spoil her and, at first, considered it a weakness. But he was beginning to realize how certain women inspired men to such behavior, and those men might not even see it was happening.

Uninterested in the race—and anxious to escape the oversweet moment between his hosts—Miles left them to their excellent vantage point. Crossing the sand with steps intended to keep as much out of his shoes as he could, he came across a tent housing several tables of refreshments. It was empty of other spectators, thanks to the excitement happening on the water, so Miles was free to down three tiny glasses of punch in quick succession. As much as he hated to admit it, Miss Bryce had managed to bother him without even being nearby.

A brush of fabric against the back of the canvas tent pulled Miles out of his dour contemplation. He straightened and set the glass on the cloth-covered table so he could make a quick escape. The sunlight revealed a feminine profile behind the tent, and the last thing he needed was for one of the debutantes to realize she had him all to herself.

Before he could leave, however, a violent thump and a familiar mutter came from the direction of the shadow. With growing curiosity—and a strong dose of anticipation—Miles stepped over to sweep aside the canvas, revealing Miss Bryce in the tall grass behind the tent, tugging on her skirt while muttering with a scowl on her face.

It was tempting to stand and watch her. Frustration creased her brow, and he was relatively certain she was uttering something a bit unladylike under her breath. Her flattering navy blue outfit brought out the color of her eyes in perfect contrast to the pink flush tinging her cheeks. She somehow remained charming and beautiful even with a bead of sweat trailing down her forehead as she worked to free herself.

Soon enough, Miles had to take pity on her. Moving closer, he ignored her surprised gasp and knelt to release her hem from the clinging thorns of a wild blackberry bush. Rising again, he gave her a moment to regain her composure. “I’d ask what has you sneaking around in the brush back here, but I can hazard a guess it might be the same thing keeping me away from the beach at the moment.”

Smoothing her skirt, she sighed. “Other people? I’m quite through with them today, to be honest.”

He chuckled. It might not have been the response she expected, as her head jerked back so she could see his face. Most of those present at the event would have taken offense at her comment, but Miles understood it better than she could realize. “There isn’t anyone in this tent except me. You’re welcome to share my hiding spot.”

Unexpectedly, Miles’s heart soared when she followed him back into the tent without hesitation. While the front was open to view the water, the tent had long, flowing sides to protect the refreshments from blowing sand. It was as private a hiding place as they would find at such an event. And what a privilege to be the exception to her desire to escape people.

Inside, however, the intimacy of the space stilled both of them. Silence fell, and not an easy, comfortable one. If only he were more skilled at small talk, but he’d failed at those lessons when his dear, patient mother had tried to teach them. The first thing that came to mind was to gesture at the table laden with finger sandwiches and bite-sized cakes. “Would you like anything to eat?”

Miss Bryce’s face tilted toward him, and she regarded him for a long moment in what might have been confusion. Then her lips turned upward at the corners. A giggle escaped. Instead of feeling as if she was laughing at him, the cheerful sound chased away the awkwardness, and he joined in as she responded. “No, thank you. The solitude is treat enough for me. Surely, you would enjoy watching the race, though. You needn’t stay on my behalf.”

If only Miles could let her know the depths of his desire to be anywhere she was, no matter what was going on elsewhere. Instead, he tossed out the only other reason for staying there that might sound plausible. “My hosts are not newlyweds any longer, but they are still deeply enamored with each other. It can be too much at times, and I’m sure they appreciate not always having me tagging along.”

She perked up a little, tilting her head in his direction. “Ah, I see. Are you opposed to romance, then?”

“Not specifically. I hadn’t been seeking a wife this summer, but only because I wanted to focus on my work at the laboratory. It’s a good opportunity for my career. But I wouldn’t oppose romance, given the right circumstances.”

He’d intended the response to let her know he was open to pursuing her if she showed even the slightest interest. Deep down, he hoped she would smile, bat her eyes, do something to invite his attention.

Instead, her expression fell. She looked…disappointed. Had he misread her enjoyment of his company? Perhaps she was looking for a friend who shared an anti-romance sentiment, not a suitor.

Turning to the table behind them, Miss Bryce lifted a tiny square of icing-coated cake and stuck the entire thing in her mouth at once. After chewing and swallowing, she squared her shoulders and raised her chin, looking as if the confection had steeled her to face a challenge. “I should be going. It wouldn’t do for us to be seen alone in each other’s company too often. People will begin to make assumptions. Good afternoon.”

She turned in a swirl of navy and stepped out of the tent, disappearing from his sight. The emptiness of the tent now felt like a gaping hole, where before it had been a refuge. With disappointment and no small amount of confusion spiraling through him, Miles tried to decide if he should go after her.

So when she ducked back inside a mere moment later, the delight that burst in his chest was uncontainable. Until Miss Casburn also appeared, a fake half smile gracing her lips and her arm wrapped around Miss Bryce’s. It might have been companionable if it hadn’t looked as if her grip was cutting off circulation to Miss Bryce’s hand. For her part, Miss Bryce looked terribly uncomfortable, her eyes darting this way and that as if searching for a way out. What on earth was going on?

Sweeping into the tent, Miss Casburn released Miss Bryce and hurried to his side. “It is lovely to find you here, my lord. I couldn’t help but overhear you and Miss Bryce speaking of romance. I’m quite partial to the subject, you know. There’s nothing lovelier than, well, love.”

Along with the saccharine tone, she lifted one shoulder in what must have been meant as a flirtatious gesture. Combined with the formal title she insisted on using, it was all he could do not to cringe. “Uh, yes, I suppose so.”

Standing far too close to him, Miss Casburn rested a gloved hand on his arm. “We ladies talk, you know, and Miss Bryce has some thoughts on romance herself. Don’t you, dear?”

Miles took the opportunity to examine Miss Bryce. She swallowed hard and pasted on the most insincere smile he’d ever seen. “That I’m not at all interested in it? Yes. I’m not, I mean.” She glanced up at Miles, her gaze almost immediately bouncing away. “But Mr. Wentworth, you and Miss Casburn should explore what other interests you share. You both have at least a passing interest in romance. What else, Miss Casburn? You must be curious about Mr. Wentworth’s work?”