Chapter 10 #3
With one last goodbye to Grace, they left the house and walked the few blocks to the steamboat dock. A short ride later, they disembarked in Sandusky and walked two more blocks to the Masonic Temple, where the club leased rooms upstairs for their members.
The evening proved to be a decent distraction from the moment they walked in.
Miles had asked Alexander not to introduce him with his title, so he was able to simply be Miles Wentworth to those who hadn’t already met him as the visiting marquess.
The men gathered in a large room filled with comfortable chairs and tables of refreshments along the back wall.
Miles listened as the gentlemen spoke about local and national politics, as well as a fascinating discussion about a recent study on the viral nature of dengue fever.
By the end of the conversation, Miles had gathered a great deal of interesting information on the potential spread through mosquitoes, which he planned to incorporate into his work at the laboratory the next week.
Unfortunately, Miles also came face to face with Mr. Greene, the gentleman he often saw in Sylvie’s company at society events.
With a sour frown, the portly younger man narrowed his eyes at Miles.
“I heard you being introduced as Mr. Wentworth earlier this evening. Why on earth you would choose not to leverage that title of yours for some clout is beyond me.”
The familiar irritation lit in Miles’s chest. He drew a deep breath, hoping to blow it out.
“It doesn’t mean anything here, so I don’t see any good in making myself seem more important than I am.
” To be honest, it didn’t mean anything in England anymore either.
But he didn’t have the least bit of interest in explaining the darker details of his life to a near stranger.
Mr. Greene shrugged and sipped amber liquid from a cut-crystal glass. “If you believe that, you’re more of a fool than I took you for. A title is currency in society. Miss Bryce’s parents wouldn’t give you a second glance without it.”
It took every ounce of Miles’s self-control not to land a solid punch on Mr. Greene’s nose.
Perhaps it was true. Sylvie’s parents very well might not want him anywhere near their daughter if he were nothing more than an untitled English scientist. But Sylvie didn’t care about his title, and she was the one who mattered. He was after her heart.
Even he couldn’t deny that her parents’ approval needed to follow, however, and he wasn’t likely to have won it without his heritage.
Turning once again to prayer to fight another rising wave of panic, Miles extricated himself from the conversation with a muttered excuse and rushed from the room.
Gentlemen came and went throughout the upper level, so Miles strode down the stairs and slipped through the first unlocked interior door he found, ending up in a darkened room with windows overlooking the street.
Shafts of light from the electric streetlamps revealed a large rectangular table surrounded by chairs in the center of the room.
Most likely a conference room, then. Certainly not a place he would be discovered.
Taking advantage of the solitude, Miles made his way to stand in front of one of the tall windows and calm his breathing while looking out over the tree-lined street.
A few large, respectable homes sat amongst churches, a park, and a modest building with a carved stone lintel above the door marking it as a library.
Few people strolled down the wide sidewalks at such a late hour, so movement at the corner of the church across the street caught Miles’s attention.
A figure hid in the shadows there, mirroring his concealment in darkness, although this person was slimmer and shorter than he.
Was someone watching him? For too long in England, his every move had been scrutinized.
He’d been followed relentlessly by reporters and locals hoping to find evidence of his guilt.
He couldn’t go through such a nightmare again.
It was difficult to shake the uneasiness that he might have to, despite the change in location and passage of so many years.
But no. The shadow shifted, moving with great care along the front of the church and revealing a feminine form.
While Miles had heard of female journalists, they weren’t common, and he could think of no reason a woman would be following him.
Relief left him almost lightheaded. This must be something else.
Two men walked toward the church from the right.
The woman must have heard them. She gave a start and rushed to slide behind a cluster of bushes tucked into a corner of the church building.
Was she in trouble? Running from a man? Concern drove Miles out of the conference room before he could consider his actions.
He would check on her without alerting anyone else.
If she needed help, he would provide it.
Perhaps for once, God had a good reason for putting Miles where he happened to be at that moment.