Page 40 of The Marquess’s Masked Archer

They settled in the enclosed carriage together while the driver returned to his seat and started the horse into motion. The roads grew more rutted as they left town, but Miles barely noticed as another swell of nostalgia washed over him. It would be good to see Woodhouse again, the grand manor that had housed his family for generations.

But no matter how glad he was to be there for his mother or how much he hoped Mr. Brown was correct and his visit would help her recover, Miles desperately missed Sylvie. Whether Mother recovered or not—and whatever happened to the estate in that case—his place was at Sylvie’s side, not in England. No amount of sentimentality would change that.

But would the weight of responsibility?

CHAPTER 20

Sylvie had put off speaking to her mother about Lucy’s vague insinuations all week.

The delay was partly out of worry about what exactly Mother knew and partly fear that she would confirm what Lucy claimed. Knowing Miles had taken time to visit Lucy but hadn’t spared even a word for Sylvie before leaving the country would be far more painful than wondering if he had.

But by Friday morning, Sylvie couldn’t procrastinate any longer. Her show on Thursday had suffered thanks to her emotional turmoil. Her shots hadn’t been as clean as she liked. One had even missed the center bullseye, though by a small enough margin the audience didn’t notice.

While she only had a few shows left to perform for the season, Sylvie didn’t want to end it on a bad note. Leaving the resort manager questioning if her show was worth keeping for next year wasn’t acceptable. Sylvie might have only secured her father’s promise not to tell Mother about the show until they returned to Cleveland, but Sylvie still held out hope that a way would open up for her to continue the next year if she needed to. Which was looking more and more likely.

Knowing she couldn’t give the show her all with the questions about Miles and Lucy hanging over her, Sylvie descended the stairs on Friday morning at the exact time Mother preferred to eat her breakfast. As expected, Sylvie found her at the table in the breakfast room, reading the society column while nibbling at a piece of toast spread with jam. Sylvie bypassed the food in favor of sitting down across from Mother and starting in before she lost her nerve.

“Mother, I need to ask you about when Mr. Wentworth left. Lucy Casburn said he came here and spoke with her.”

With a small sigh, Mother set down her toast and then the paper. She patted the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin before meeting Sylvie’s gaze. “Yes, he did. What of it?”

Frustration burned in Sylvie’s chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I saw no reason. He wasn’t here for you, but for Miss Casburn. What good could come of throwing that in your face?”

It made sense, but Sylvie still felt her mother knew Sylvie would have questions. Nothing would be solved by arguing over her motivation, so Sylvie moved on to a more difficult question. “What did he say to her?”

The question hung in the air between them, spoken in a smaller, tighter tone than Sylvie intended. She was revealing too much about her feelings for Miles.

But instead of jumping on that slip, her mother’s expression turned compassionate. “Oh Sylvia, you needn’t burden yourself with that. He’s better left to someone else, anyway.”

“What on earth does that mean? You’ve been pushing me at him all summer, and now you want to let Lucy have him?”

Stacking her hands one on the other on top of the table, Mother drew a deep breath, as if to fortify herself for something difficult. Was this it? Had Lucy revealed Sylvie’s activities, and now the consequences were in front of her?

“Miss Casburn is also not pursuing Mr. Wentworth any longer.”

Confusion heaved through Sylvie’s thoughts, stirring them into a mess. “Whyever not? She’s been very insistent on catching his attention since arriving here. And I know Lucy. She doesn’t give up easily.”

Mother tilted her head. “Sylvia, after Mr. Wentworth left, Miss Casburn revealed some rather dark information. I’d hoped to spare you from it since he’s gone, anyway. But I suppose knowing will help you move past this infatuation with him.”

It all sounded so ominous. Sylvie’s stomach dropped, and she swallowed hard as Mother went on.

“It seems he got into some significant legal trouble as a younger man. He was a suspect in a murder case, my dear. While I hesitate to trust Miss Casburn, your father contacted a business acquaintance who was able to dig up newspaper articles about it from England. I’m afraid what she said is true.”

Sagging back in her chair, Sylvie’s breath eased. “Is that all? He told me about it himself. He was falsely accused. He did nothing wrong and has still been suffering for it all these years.”

The sympathy dripping from Mother’s expression made Sylvie want to throw something. “That doesn’t matter to society. If—or more likely when—word gets out, his opportunities and connections will dry up faster than you could imagine. Regardless of your feelings, there’s too great a risk that he’ll be shut out of society. Your father and I cannot consider him as a potential suitor for you, even if he does return at some point.”

Unable to control the anger rising in her throat, Sylvie slammed her palms on the table to push up from the chair. “That’s ridiculous. He’s a good man. Why should something he didn’t do, that was completely based on hearsay, determine if he’s acceptable? Why can’t what he does now matter more?”

Mother’s expression stilled, but a hint of fire sparked in her eyes. “And what is he doing now, Sylvia? Where is he? Is he here pursuing you? Clearing his name? No. He ran away, leaving only uncertainty in his wake. It’s time for you to move on and take your future seriously. You will accept visitors with me this afternoon. There will be eligible gentlemen present, and you will consider each one. There will be no arguments about this.”

Sylvie knew when she was at a disadvantage. As much as she wanted to curl up in her room that afternoon and have a good cry, Mother was likely to physically drag her downstairs in the type of mood she was in.

Worst of all, Mother had driven home one undeniable truth, despite assuming the worst about Miles. He was gone. For once, Lucy had been honest. He’d left without a word to Sylvie, and without stating any plans to return. The feelings she’d been harboring toward him despite her best efforts had been misplaced.

Tears welled in her eyes, but what good could crying do now? Sylvie retreated to her room and lost herself in a book for the rest of the morning. Delia arrived to help her dress for the afternoon, and Sylvie left the maid to her ministrations without a word, lost in numbness.