Chapter 11
Sylvie craned her neck, watching the doors of the Masonic Temple through the branches of a fragrant boxwood bush. For the hundredth time since leaving the house, she wondered if this was an insane scheme or if the arguments that had sounded so logical in her room earlier still made sense.
Another letter from her admirer had arrived with the morning mail, and she’d spent half the day all but committing it to memory.
This one was as charming as the last, filled with even more sweet sentiments proving the author’s feelings for her.
And even more importantly, his understanding of her.
He’d even quoted one of her favorite lines from Great Expectations—“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.” Sylvie could hardly believe a man existed who would refer to her with such ardent devotion.
It was all so very flattering. Not enough to entirely distract her from dratted Miles Wentworth and his broad shoulders, warm eyes, and easy smile.
But enough to stir her curiosity until she was prepared to do whatever was necessary to discover the identity of the author.
Even if it entailed something Mother would call rash and irresponsible.
If Sylvie wanted to uncover the truth, she might have to take a few risks to do some detective work.
It had only taken a brief conversation with one of the local footmen Mother had hired on for the summer to learn everything Sylvie wanted to know about the club her admirer had listed as a return address.
She had a list of which influential men held a membership there, the types of events they liked to organize, and that the footman’s sister worked in the kitchen.
He’d even told her this evening was likely to be a busy one there, which inspired Sylvie’s current situation.
While gathering information had been easy, getting out of the house unnoticed had been a larger challenge.
Before starting work at Cedar Point, Sylvie had spent weeks laying the groundwork so she wouldn’t have to lie to anyone about her activities.
But going out alone at night without the benefit of any scheduled social events to use as an excuse was a different matter altogether.
In the end, Sylvie had dressed in her darkest clothing—a heavy black skirt and jacket, despite the warm evening—and waited until it was late.
Then she snuck through the house, reaching the back door after half an hour of tiptoeing and freezing at the slightest sound.
She’d made her way by steamship to Sandusky and clung to the shadows cast by the setting sun until she reached a church across the street from the building where the Sunyendeand Club met.
It was likely a shot in the dark—literally, as the evening was growing late.
There would be many men at the club, and simply seeing them there wouldn’t necessarily give her anything of substance to go on.
But it might help her narrow down the possible suspects.
Any small nudge in the right direction could only help.
The longer the time went without anyone coming or going from the building, though, the more Sylvie squirmed in doubt.
What would Mother say if she knew about this situation?
Sylvie had left the house alone at night and was now waiting in the dark for a man she didn’t even know.
If anyone discovered her reckless actions, the scandal would be enough to ruin her future, no matter what good intentions she might have had in coming.
After scrambling to hide from several men walking too close to the church, she’d nearly decided to go home before things got worse.
But then the door across the street finally opened, and a masculine figure emerged.
She watched him close the door behind him, then turn and face her exact direction, his eyes appearing to seek her out amidst the foliage at the corner of the church.
But that was silly. He couldn’t see her there.
It wasn’t until he looked both ways and stepped into the light of a streetlamp to cross the street that Sylvie realized she’d made the most dreadful mistake.
The man was Miles, and he was coming straight towards her.
How he’d done it, she didn’t know, but he’d discovered her hiding place, and he was coming over to confront her.
Heedless of the noise, Sylvie squeezed behind the row of bushes running along the side of the church.
She tucked herself down into a corner and held herself as still as possible, hoping he’d think she had gone farther back.
But brilliant scientist that he was, Miles wasn’t so easily deceived. “Hello? Who’s there? Do you need help?”
Rather than being accusatory, his voice was gentle and kind, and he didn’t use her name.
Did he think she was a woman hiding from something nefarious?
Sylvie’s heart softened. She hated to let him worry about a fictional situation.
But if she revealed herself, would he press her for answers as to why she was spying on a men’s club late at night?
The truth might suffice to keep him from jumping to any untoward conclusions, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell anyone about her admirer.
Especially Miles. What if he scoffed at her silly, romantic inclinations?
Even worse, what if he was happy for her?
Unfortunately, she wasn’t given much of a choice.
The branches in front of her parted to reveal him bending to peer through the foliage, confused and concerned all at the same time.
The moment he realized who was hiding there, his eyes widened.
“Sylvie? What on earth are you doing? Is something wrong?”
Dropping her head, Sylvie sighed. Now she was going to have to explain herself. Did she lie to protect any image he might have of her as a strong, independent woman, or did she tell the embarrassing truth?
Sylvie tried to extricate herself from the clinging branches while she decided.
Miles held out a hand, and she took it, using his support to keep herself upright while she freed her skirt from the bush in a moment that felt all too familiar.
Why did he always seem to catch her skulking in vegetation?
When she was finally clear of it, she gathered her courage and looked up into his confused and somewhat concerned face.
“Nothing is wrong. I’m looking for someone. ”
His brow furrowed. “Alone at night? You are aware there’s a men’s club meeting in that building?” His eyes widened. “Are you looking for a man in there? Sylvie, you cannot go around following men at night.”
Clearly, Miles’s imagination was running farther away with him by the minute. She would have to tell the truth, if only to keep him from thinking the worst of her. “I’m not following a man. At least, not a specific man. I don’t know who I’m looking for.”
When he rubbed one hand over his forehead, the urge to stamp her foot almost overtook Sylvie.
She wasn’t explaining herself in any kind of coherent way, and it was obvious Miles was growing more perplexed with each word she said.
“Let me start from the beginning. I’ve been receiving letters from an anonymous admirer. ”
Miles’s lips parted, and Sylvie held up a hand, stopping him before he could judge her as being foolish.
“Now, I know it sounds ridiculous to take something like that seriously. But Miles, this could be my chance to find love on my own terms, with someone I care about for who he is, not how much money he has or how much my mother approves. Judging from all he knows about me, he must be part of the same social circles I am, so I don’t feel there’s any danger in attempting to investigate his identity. ”
A long silence stretched out, filled with night sounds Sylvie recognized but couldn’t identify.
Miles probably could, with his knowledge of bugs.
If this were any other situation, she might have asked.
Instead, she snuck a glance to see if he was still scowling in concern, or laughing at her fanciful reasoning.
Instead, Miles rubbed his chin with one hand while he regarded her, appearing to think through her declaration.
It was one of Sylvie’s favorite things about a conversation with him.
Even if she said something anyone else would immediately dismiss, Miles considered her point of view and took her thoughts seriously.
Would her secret admirer do the same?
Finally nodding, Miles crossed his arms over his chest, which pulled his jacket tight and emphasized impressive muscles Sylvie usually only caught glimpses of when he was in his Will Scarlet costume.
“You can’t go sneaking around alone at night.
Promise me you’ll stick to social events, since you believe he’s part of that set. ”
Another sudden inspiration hit Sylvie. As a man, Miles would have so much more insight than Sylvie into which gentlemen might be capable of concocting a secret admirer plan or of writing such lovely letters. “Will you help me investigate?”
The words slipped out before Sylvie was ready, and the way Miles’s jaw dropped open was proof she might have done better to consider the idea first. But it was out there, and she should make the most of it.
She couldn’t very well continue sneaking around at night, watching for any sign that one of the men she ran across was the right one.