Page 6 of The Marquess’s Masked Archer

The knots in her stomach untied all at once, allowing tension to drain from her body. “Thank you for saying so. It’s difficult to determine if they’re being polite or if they truly enjoyed themselves.”

Mr. Miller gave a decisive nod. “I’ll report it to Mr. Wallace, as well. Hopefully, that will help keep your show on the schedule.”

Something in his words struck Sylvie, leaving her frozen in the path for a moment as she tried to decipher his meaning. Seeing that he was about to walk away, Sylvie rushed to catch up to him. “What do you mean? Is it likely to be removed?”

Shrugging, Mr. Miller turned to head toward the administration building, where he had an office. “Less popular shows tend to be canceled without waiting around to see if they improve. There are so many other attractions here these days that Mr. Wallace has no patience for any duds. But I’m sure yours will remain. Quite a few guests inquired earlier about what time you’d be performing today, which is an excellent sign. They know about your show when they come, so people must be talking about it.”

Despite his assurance, Sylvie’s stomach knotted all over again. She managed to wave goodbye and let Mr. Miller continue on his way to his next task, but all the while, worries began swirling in her mind. She couldn’t bear to lose this opportunity so soon. It was the only choice she’d ever been able to make for herself.

Ducking into an alcove under the overhanging roof of the Coliseum and glancing around to see that she was alone, Sylvie pushed the mask up above her eyes and let the hood drop back a little. The fresh air on her face helped stave off the panic, but only just. How could she make her show good enough to ensure the resort manager would never consider cutting it?

After a morning spent dodging crowds, Miles had started to question his choice to accompany the others to the resort. He tried to stay away from places as busy as a lakeside amusement park on a warm day. The noise and chaos that accompanied such revelry weren’t things he enjoyed, so why put himself in the midst of them?

Other than the crush of people, the attractions at the resort had been interesting. Miles and the group of three other professors and six students spent the first half of their day at the Amusement Circle, where they tried the shooting gallery, rode the circle swing and carousel, and laughed at each other’s reflections in the silly mirrors filling the House of Mirth.

Several of the professors had stopped at a food stall to purchase a stack of sandwiches to share, and now they gathered in a shady spot near the beach for a picnic. Miles found himself sitting on a thin flannel blanket with Henry until the students joined them, all laughter and energy. While only a few years in age separated the younger faculty members from the students, there was a wide chasm between the enthusiasm with which the two groups experienced life.

Several students dropped onto the blanket with Miles and Henry, one being Miss Fording. She shot Miles a shy smile, then looked away. Heat climbed Miles’s neck when Henry raised his eyebrow, evidence he’d seen the gesture. Miles shook his head and whispered, “Don’t get ideas. I want nothing to do with it.”

Henry shrugged but didn’t stop grinning. Assumptions always worked the same way. No amount of protesting would change someone’s mind once it was made up. Frustrated by his failure to convince Henry of the truth, Miles jumped to his feet, snagged a sandwich, and stalked toward a large building set back a bit from the beach. Every few feet, arched openings allowed guests to take shelter from the sun on a wrap-around veranda, drawing him with the potential for quiet and privacy.

Indeed, cool shadows enveloped the narrow open-air space under the roof, which was emptier than he’d expected on a hot day. Miles avoided several sets of doors leading into the Coliseum itself and instead headed toward a corner farther away from foot traffic. He rested back against the wall and let the happy sounds of beachgoers soothe his irritation with being misunderstood yet again.

The relief was interrupted all too soon by a couple younger than himself stopping by the nearest arch. The young man raised a hand to stroke the lady’s cheek, and Miles decided it was time to move on. Hoping for a better spot on the other side of the building, Miles peeked around the corner to see a slim, feminine figure stepping through an arch. The woman was clad in a white shirtwaist and black skirt with what looked to be a rather heavy green velvet cloak over the top, the deep hood completely hiding her face. But the way she marched through that archway with such purpose…Miles recognized her from somewhere.

As the woman reached the wall and dropped back against it—much as he had a moment ago—Miles twisted to lean farther around the corner. If he could only catch a glimpse of her face under that hood, he might figure out where he’d met her. To his relief, the woman reached up and untied the mask that obscured her eyes and nose. She tipped her chin up, letting the hood drop away…and Miles sucked in a breath as he threw himself back against his side of the wall.

Miss Bryce. Sylvie Bryce was around that corner, dressed in what was clearly a disguise. Why on earth was she hiding her identity? It was common and accepted for members of even the highest social circles to visit the resort. In fact, it catered to those in Miss Bryce’s social class with the new elegant Breakers Hotel and fashionable restaurants.

So why was she in disguise?

Thinking for several minutes, Miles finally decided he would never be able to deduce her motives on his own. He would need to speak with her, but he didn’t want to frighten her away. If she wanted to hide so badly, she might be skittish when faced with someone she knew. So after sneaking another glance around the corner to ensure she was still there, he tiptoed a few paces away on his side of the building.

Straightening his back and clearing his throat a few times, Miles then started walking with false bravado, making certain his shoes hit the stone floor with heavy thumps. He cleared his throat one more time for good measure right before rounding the corner.

And his ruse succeeded. When he looked up, Miss Bryce had covered her face and was stepping away from the wall. He’d managed not to unmask her before she was ready, while also not letting her get away before he was ready.

Acting as startled as his limited acting ability allowed, Miles paused mid-step and offered his most charming smile. “Oh, excuse me. I was looking for a quiet corner to catch my breath, but it appears I’m not the only one.”

When Miss Bryce looked up at him, those wide, expressive blue eyes captured his attention, being all he could see around her disguise. It took him a moment to recover from having such an enchanting gaze turned on him. She took another step back, looking for all the world as if she wanted to dart away. But she was too polite to leave without answering, it seemed. “Ah, well, you’re in luck, after all. I’m on my way out. This quiet corner is all yours.”

Her voice sounded lower than usual, as if she were attempting to disguise it as well as her face. In danger of losing his moment with her, Miles took a few steps forward, reaching out without meaning to. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel caged, so he dropped his arm and hurried to continue talking. Perhaps that would be enough to stop her retreat. “You must have a good reason to wear a velvet cloak on such a warm day. I’m quite curious about it.”

She paused, and a rush of gratitude swept over Miles, leaving him almost lightheaded. She wasn’t running away yet. “Haven’t you heard of the lady archer? The one who poses as Robin Hood and entertains the crowds with her archery skills? You wouldn’t expect any less of her than a green cloak as a disguise, would you?”

Delight was too small a word to describe being the target of teasing banter from Miss Bryce. Her voice was rich with challenge, and he was eager to accept. “Why, no, I wouldn’t dare expect less. There could be no other choice for such a bold lady. I do wonder what makes her feel the need to hide her identity so completely.”

Her shoulders hunched, the teasing glint vanishing from her eyes. He’d said the wrong thing, pushed too hard. She recognized him. For certain. But she didn’t want him to recognize her, and he’d come too close to admitting he did.

Before he could repair the damage, she took the opportunity to back through the arch behind her, tugging at the hood and mask as if afraid they might fail to keep her secret. “I’m sorry, but I must go. Enjoy your time at the resort.”

And then she was gone in a flash of green velvet.

The crushing weight that hit him when she was out of his sight kept Miles frozen in place for quite some time. He should find the others and continue with the day, but the idea of enjoying amusements when Miss Bryce was there—so close and yet unattainable—was completely unappealing.

No matter what he did, his attention ended up returning to the questions burning trails through his mind. Why did she feel the need to hide her identity? Why was she performing a show at the resort at all? It wasn’t common for ladies of her status to hold employment of any kind, and certainly not a job performing for an audience. Was that why she hid behind a costume?

Given the way Mrs. Bryce had pulled her reluctant daughter around the ball several nights before, perhaps her mother was the reason Miss Bryce held her disguise so close. Miles had met many women like Leticia Bryce in the past. There wasn’t any possibility she knew her daughter was performing in public and still allowed it. Miss Bryce was here without the knowledge of her mother, and most likely anyone else.