Page 35 of The Marquess’s Masked Archer

While Sylvie might not be able to choose Miles for herself without giving up her hard-won sliver of independence, that didn’t mean she would allow a woman like Lucy to dig her claws into such a good man. If Sylvie revealed the truth to him, perhaps he could find a way to avoid getting entangled with Lucy that wouldn’t harm Sylvie’s secret. At least, Sylvie would pray that it would turn out that well for both of them.

Miles had never experienced such relief. Sylvie hadn’t rejected him after hearing the entire dark story of his past. She’d even allowed him to kiss her, which had been one of the most memorable moments of his life. And he hadn’t missed the expression on her face when Miss Casburn claimed his arm in the lobby.

Sylvie wanted him more than she let on.

And that knowledge spurred him to stand firm on his efforts to win her.

Alone in his room that evening, Miles composed his best letter yet. He wrote with all the elation of knowing he could trust her shining through, without mentioning those stolen moments in the dressing room, of course. He told her about his hopes for the future, not any involving his work, but about ordinary moments. Sitting by a dimming fire in the evening with her, when all was quiet and calm. Walking and talking without worrying about society or reputations or what anyone might think. Meals and holidays together. Deep desires that had long existed in the recesses of his heart but were now becoming ever more difficult to ignore.

The next evening, the Casburns were hosting a ball. Miles had already agreed to go with Grace and Alexander, though he dreaded spending any time with Miss Casburn. It was Sylvie he was hoping to see. And dance with. And possibly arrange a quiet moment alone with.

When Alexander’s driver pulled their automobile to a stop in front of the Casburns’ summer cottage, Miles had to admit that the house was magnificent. A sprawling three-story brick structure, every detail declared the family’s wealth, from the abundance of skillfully tooled wood trim, to the circular tower that soared a full story above the rest of the house, to the stained-glass windows lining the front. As much as he didn’t enjoy Miss Casburn’s company, her family did have good taste in architecture.

Inside, Mr. and Mrs. Casburn greeted guests as they entered. It was a slight relief to find the two younger Casburn sisters standing alongside their parents with no sight of Miss Lucy. After being welcomed, guests were directed upstairs, where the ballroom occupied the entire third floor. Miles followed Alexander and Grace up the carpet-lined stairs, keeping an eye out for Miss Casburn so he might avoid her as much as possible.

No doubt the ballroom wasn’t as spacious as those of Cleveland homes, but it proved sufficient for the smaller gatherings the richest residents of Put-In-Bay preferred over the summer months. As with the rest of the house, it was beautifully appointed. All the wood floors and trim had been polished until they gleamed with light from the ornate fixtures hanging from the ceiling. Elegant cream walls allowed the floral arrangements Mrs. Casburn must have commissioned to become the center of attention. A quartet sat stationed at one end of the room, playing a quiet, reserved tune to fill the time until the hosts arrived upstairs and the dancing began.

Upon entering, Miles immediately scanned the room for Sylvie or her parents, disappointed to see they must not have arrived yet. Looking for her distracted him enough that he didn’t detect Miss Casburn’s approach until it was too late. She wrapped her arm in a stranglehold around his as she tended to do without waiting for an indication he would welcome it. Her grating voice filled the air. “My lord, I’m so pleased you came. How many dances would you like to claim on my card tonight?”

Miles sighed, resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to escape her that evening. She was pretty—that was undeniable. Bright blond hair, clear blue eyes, and a lovely figure set off by her impeccable taste in clothing. But she wasn’t pleasant to spend time with. Miles still didn’t understand and hadn’t found a way to ask Sylvie why she’d begun encouraging him to be with Miss Casburn at events. He could only assume it was her way of putting him off so she didn’t have to make the choice between him and giving in to her mother. Well, that wasn’t going to work. His heart was Sylvie’s, whether she was ready to accept it or not. This woman would never do in her place.

“Please don’t call me ‘my lord.’ I’m Mr. Wentworth. Titles don’t mean anything here.”

The moment the words left his lips, Miles regretted his harsh tone. But he hated when people ignored his repeated requests to be called by a normal name. He was the farthest thing from a lord, and he didn’t need reminders of that.

To her credit, Miss Casburn recovered within a moment, wiping the hint of crossness from her expression almost before Miles saw it. In its place, she fixed a cheerful—if rather forced—smile. “Of course. But you will want to peruse my dance card right away. My mother took extra pains to ensure every eligible man on the island would be here tonight, so it will fill up quickly.”

Was she attempting to make him feel as if he’d lose his chance with her? He had half a mind to step back and tell her to let them take all her dances.

But there was no reason to be more ill-mannered than he’d already been. Miles took the proffered card and pencil and wrote his name next to a quadrille. That should be harmless enough. He handed the card back to her, seeing the brief slip of her smile when she glanced at the card. A slight twinge in his chest stopped Miles in his tracks.

Was he leading this woman on? He’d allowed her to remain at his side for many social events while wishing the entire time that he was with Sylvie. Miss Casburn might be blatantly manipulating situations to throw herself at him, but she was still a woman with hopes and feelings.

Miles turned toward her, blocking his face from the rest of the room. “Miss Casburn, about the matter of my intentions toward you. You’re a fine woman, but there’s someone else I’d like to⁠—”

“Oh, no. Of course, you needn’t go on.” She cut in with a wave, stopping him from completing the awkward task of saying he wasn’t interested in pursuing her. A bright flush crept up her cheeks, but otherwise, she appeared as composed as ever. “I simply felt a newcomer to our social circle needed someone to keep him company over the summer. I would never assume it to be more than that. Now, I must see to other guests, if you’ll excuse me. Don’t neglect to claim your dance later.”

She sashayed off in a swirl of pale yellow skirts and false smiles, but Miles got the distinct feeling that she wasn’t finished with him yet. He ruminated over that concerning possibility, but only briefly, because Mr. and Mrs. Bryce appeared in the doorway of the ballroom with Sylvie trailing behind them.

Thoughts of Miss Casburn fled. It was all Miles could do not to rush to the door and claim Sylvie’s attention before any of the other men present could do so.

But he didn’t need to. Sylvie’s eyes traveled the room. She began walking toward him the moment she caught sight of him. An odd fluttering in his stomach made him feel a bit light-headed. She wanted to be at his side as much as he wanted to be at hers, even after learning about his darkest moments. Nothing could be more joyous and freeing than that.

When he met her halfway through the ballroom, Sylvie began speaking as if they’d never stopped while holding out her dance card. “Would you mind claiming my first waltz? I need to tell you something, and that will be the most privacy we’ll get without raising my mother’s suspicions. She’s watching me far too closely these days.”

It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, but Miles wouldn’t deny her anything. “Certainly.”

He scribbled his name on the correct line, along with another dance later in the evening for good measure. Sylvie accepted the folded card back with a grateful smile. “I’ll see you then.”

She walked away from him while every fiber of his being screamed to follow her, to pull her into his arms and kiss her no matter what anyone in the room had to say about it. His pulse thrummed in his ears as if even temporary separation from her was a threat to his physical well-being.

It took a considerable amount of willpower to remain rooted to that spot and pretend interest when their hosts entered and began the first dance. All he wanted was to get through the time until that promised waltz.

The three-quarters of an hour that ensued might as well have been eternal while he danced halfheartedly with several other young women. But finally, the last strains of a polka faded, and Sylvie appeared at his side. Miles offered his hand, much happier to have her there than when Miss Casburn had done the same earlier. “May I have this dance, Miss Bryce?”

Sylvie placed her hand in his with a shy smile, allowing Miles to lead her onto the floor. The waltz began, and they moved as one to the music for a moment. Miles gave Sylvie time to speak when she was ready, anticipation of what she might say growing with every second they danced.

“I want to stop investigating my secret admirer.”