Page 42 of The Marquess’s Masked Archer

With hope welling in his heart, Miles took the stairs two at a time and all but ran down the hall to Mother’s set of rooms. Inside her bedchamber, one of the maids was pulling back the heavy drapes, allowing sunshine to flood the room. And his mother was propped up on a mountain of pillows in the bed, still pale, but issuing orders in a manner much more like the Louise Wentworth who managed everyone around her with such efficiency.

She glanced up and saw him in the doorway, and a wide grin crossed her wan face. She held out both hands to him. “Ah, Miles. I hate that you had to see me in such a state. Come sit with me.”

Her voice shook, and her grip when Miles allowed her to squeeze his hands was barely palpable. But she was awake and aware of his presence, which was a vast improvement, indeed.

Miles perched on the edge of the bed next to her, his hands still in hers. He took in her loose hair, which was far more white than blond now. Deep creases lined her features, but her eyes were clear and alert. “Mother, you look lovely as always. I’m glad you’re awake. I was quite worried.”

She released one of his hands to reach up and pat his cheek. “Of course you were. You always did worry more than you needed to. But I’ll be fine. I’m tired still, but I can tell the fever is gone.”

A huff rose in Miles’s throat. “I don’t worry more than I need to. It’s a perfectly appropriate amount of worry.”

Mother chuckled, although it seemed to drain her a bit so that she slumped back farther against the pillows. She fixed a watery gaze on him. “Tell me all about what you’ve been doing, Miles. Letters aren’t the same as hearing your voice.”

For the next half hour, Miles regaled her with details about what he’d been doing in Ohio that summer—living with Alexander and Grace, working at the laboratory, the discovery he’d made, which the team was doing more experiments on while he was gone. She smiled and responded now and then, but he could see her energy fading as he spoke. Finally, he rose from the bed and pulled the blanket up around her. “You need some rest, Mother. I’ll return in the morning, and we’ll talk some more.”

So the pattern went for the next two days. His mother regained some strength but was still generally tired and could only be up for bits of time with naps interspersed between them. Miles would visit her, and they would share stories about their lives since he left. Then he let her rest until the evening meal, when he would return and share more conversation as they ate together. Not that she consumed enough to call it a meal.

Through all their conversations, Miles was very proud of himself for only mentioning Sylvie with perfect nonchalance, as one of his acquaintances rather than the woman he’d fallen in love with. The tenuous relationship seemed too uncertain yet for Miles to get his mother’s hopes up that a daughter-in-law and grandchildren might be on the way sooner rather than later. With each passing day that he didn’t receive a response from Sylvie, the possibility of such a future felt less and less likely. Had the mail service been delayed, or had she hesitated in writing to him? Perhaps she didn’t want to respond at all.

On Thursday morning, almost a week after arriving home, Miles entered his mother’s suite to find her propped up in a chair in her private parlor, instead of in bed. “Good morning, Mother. How nice to see you out of bed.”

She smiled, her face more filled out and less pale than it had been when he arrived. She smoothed her hair with one hand, bringing attention to the fact that she was also dressed in a yellow day gown with her hair fixed in a simple bun. “It’s nice to be out of bed. Recuperating is a terrible business.”

Miles dropped into the chair across from her and reached for the cup she had filled with tea for him. Just as he took his first sip, his mother spoke again. “I suppose it’s time you tell me about the girl.”

Shock made Miles gulp down a much larger amount of tea than expected, the burst of heat causing him to choke. Mother waited with a raised eyebrow and knowing smile while he coughed a few times, then took a more reasonable drink. “Why do you think there’s a girl?” He set his cup down, thankful his tone was even rather than reflecting the wild beating of his heart.

Waving her hand, Mother leveled an expectant gaze on him. “Miles, you can’t believe I wouldn’t notice. You’re different. More attentive. More aware of those around you rather than being immersed in your research. That’s a clear indication that a man has been thinking about how he can make a woman happy.”

Miles bristled at her matter-of-fact tone, but she wasn’t wrong. Still, was he ready to talk about Sylvie? He couldn’t—and didn’t want to—lie to his mother, no matter how much he might enjoy keeping Sylvie to himself. “Despite my best efforts to focus on my work this summer, I might have met a woman in Ohio who has distracted me a bit.”

Mother chuckled, obviously all too aware he was avoiding giving a straight answer. “A bit? I don’t believe for a moment this is only a small distraction. Tell me about her.”

As if the request were magical, causing words to fall from his throat, Miles told his mother everything he could think to say about Sylvie. “She’s strong and quite charming, traits I most likely learned to enjoy from growing up with you. She performs an archery show at the local resort, of all things, and in disguise, so no one in society knows she’s working there. And she pulls off the ruse beautifully. She’s graceful and lovely. But more than that, warm and kind. She challenges me to see things in a different way, not demanding it, but by sharing her interesting perspectives. She’s…”

Reality crashed down on him as his glowing words hung in the air. He had to be honest. “I’m not certain she returns my feelings. I’ve made quite a mess of it this summer.” He outlined his many missteps, from agreeing to be Sylvie’s friend when he wanted more, to hiding behind letters, to taking time to speak with Miss Casburn instead of Sylvie before leaving. “I’m afraid of what I’ll find when I return if I don’t hear from her before then, Mother.”

With a tilt of her head, his mother regarded him for a long moment. Then she pursed her lips. “Perhaps that confusion is God’s way of answering my prayers, then.”

Blinking at her, Miles tried to follow her reasoning. “You’ve been praying for me to lose a woman I care about?”

Her eyes filled with worry. “Oh no, of course not. I’ve been praying that you’d return to me, to take on the responsibilities here as you planned before…well, before everything. If there’s this much going wrong in America, if this Sylvie doesn’t care for you as you care for her, it might be God’s nudging for you to return home.”

Miles’s heart sank. Was God answering his mother’s prayers by turning Sylvie away from him? Maybe the weight of responsibility Miles had been feeling for this place was more than guilt over leaving. Was God directing him to stay and fulfill the role he’d been thrust into and run away from? Was this where he could be the most helpful, do the most good?

Over the summer, Miles had come to accept that God hadn’t really abandoned him during the accusations all those years ago. The Almighty had simply had a different plan for Miles than he’d expected, one he still didn’t quite understand. Researching diseases had seemed like God’s way of giving him a purpose, but perhaps Miles had understood it all wrong. Perhaps his place was here, whether he wanted it or not. But if that were true, did that mean God also didn’t intend for him to have Sylvie’s love?

CHAPTER 21

The Bryce summer cottage was in chaos as the staff prepared to move the family back to Cleveland. Sylvie appreciated the distraction, as it allowed her to slip away unnoticed to perform her last archery show instead of being stuck under her mother’s watchful eye. She’d left earlier than usual, slipping out before her mother roused from her rooms. Sylvie had already been informed she must be home that afternoon to entertain guests at their last event, what Mother called a simple garden party. But she had enough time before anyone noticed her absence to complete her work for the summer.

As Sylvie made her way to Cedar Point on the ferry one last time, the last three months flashed through her mind. So much had happened. So much had changed. But had she? When Miles had been there, she’d experienced a freedom to be herself that was unmatched in her life to that point. Then he left, and her world was shrinking back down to the things her mother allowed her to do. She once again felt like the same helpless woman, stuck under her mother’s thumb and not allowed to make a single decision for herself. The money she’d earned that summer wouldn’t take her far if she had to stand up to Mother’s demands for an influential marriage.

And did she even want to try? Without Miles, Sylvie couldn’t muster the will to fight against her mother’s wishes and society’s expectations. She’d lost the man she would have chosen, all because she’d been too stubbornly committed to a plan that had been silly to begin with. As it turned out, the little bit of independence she’d managed to carve out didn’t feel like freedom at all. Being with Miles did.

But she still had one more show to do, and Sylvie was intent on completing her task. She raised her chin, straightened her shoulders, and marched off the ferry. Cedar Point was in full swing that day, with many members of Cleveland’s high society visiting once more before returning to town for the fall. It should be a good day for a show.

If only Sylvie didn’t have to work so hard to muster an interest in performing.