The Marquess’s Masked Archer (Headliners and Heartstrings #1)

Chapter 1

Put-In-Bay, Ohio

Another summer on the island meant another round of unwanted suitors being paraded in front of her.

Sylvie Bryce straightened her shoulders and reached up to push the feather in her hair away from her face.

Mother had insisted it would be the perfect complement to Sylvie’s ivory velvet and lace ballgown, and Mother always got her way in the Bryce household.

But it was simply one annoyance among many others filling the evening.

Not the least of which was the gentleman standing in front of Sylvie.

Stout and dull in every way, Mr. Greene had been going on for some time about his business endeavors, completely unaware of how tedious the conversation was.

“So you see, it makes strong financial sense for the steel companies to own railroads, as well. We make steel cheaper than Pittsburgh, and reducing the need to pay for transporting it to other cities is the next logical step.”

Sylvie nodded, although he was unlikely to notice while so immersed in his own words. Around them, the ballroom at Hotel Victory on the shore of South Bass Island—one of a cluster of islands in Lake Erie near Sandusky—was as crowded as Sylvie had ever seen it.

The first ball of the summer season was a sight to behold.

Hundreds of ladies and gentlemen dressed in the height of fashion twirled and chatted.

What must have been thousands of flowers in garlands and bunches draped over every available surface.

A string quartet in one corner serenaded guests with impeccable music.

Even the selection of light, delicate pastries set out for refreshment was as perfect as anything one might find in New York City.

The air crackled with the excitement of new beginnings.

Sylvie probably would have enjoyed it if her mother hadn’t decided to make it into yet another opportunity to show Sylvie off to any eligible men present.

At twenty-two years of age, it wasn’t as if she was highly sought after anymore.

That didn’t deter Leticia Bryce from her single-minded focus on getting her daughter married off, though.

Every year Sylvie remained single increased the tension in their home and the worry creasing her mother’s brow.

Brushing back the irritating feather once again, Sylvie reluctantly returned her attention to Mr. Greene’s monologue. “That’s why I brought the idea up to the company vice president himself. Did I already mention I’m the youngest member of upper management they’ve ever had?”

Sylvie opened her mouth to attempt a response, but Mr. Greene’s gaze lifted past her, his shoulders straightening. “Ah, Mrs. Bryce. I hope you haven’t come to steal your daughter away from me. We’ve been having a lovely conversation.”

Had they? Sylvie greeted her mother with a smile, which wasn’t returned.

When the woman was on a mission, she was as shrewd and businesslike as any man making deals in a boardroom.

Wearing a bejeweled satin gown that emphasized her still-trim figure along with displaying the family’s wealth, Mother commanded attention amongst the glittering assemblage.

Instead of answering Mr. Greene’s comment, she offered a quick nod while grabbing Sylvie’s arm.

“Please excuse us. I need my daughter for a moment. But I see Miss Milicent Howard over by the refreshments. I heard you two hit it off splendidly at her parents’ holiday ball, so you mustn’t neglect to seek her out for a dance. ”

With that, Syvlie’s mother tugged her away from Mr. Greene, leaving him looking as if he wanted to sputter an argument but was unable to. Sylvie could sympathize. She’d long ago given up fighting her mother when such a determined expression appeared.

As Mother led Sylvie across the ballroom at a dignified but indomitable pace, the older woman leaned in close to whisper at Sylvie. “There’s a new gentleman here, and you will secure the first dance with him.”

There was no room for Sylvie’s preferences, only a statement as if her obedience was a foregone conclusion.

Despite having experienced it time and again over the years, the command still burned a bit in Sylvie’s chest. “I don’t want to fight the other ladies over some man, Mother.

Can’t you wait for a more natural meeting and see if we enjoy each other’s company before foisting me on him? ”

They’d had the same argument so many times, her mother didn’t even bother to respond.

She kept pulling Sylvie inexorably toward this new gentleman.

Her mother wasn’t the only woman intrigued by the newcomer either.

A cluster of mamas and debutantes had formed, leaving only the back of a man’s head and shoulders visible in the center.

Undeterred by the competition, Mother pushed her way right into the fray, thankfully releasing Sylvie’s arm as she did.

Sylvie refused to enter the clamoring circle.

As she watched women vying for the unknown man’s attention—albeit without compromising the good manners they’d all had instilled into them from a young age—her lifelong friend, Matilda Duboise, stepped up to her side.

It was a blessing that Matilda’s family also left Cleveland for the island every summer.

“You’re not interested in the marquess, Sylvie? ”

“A marquess? So that’s what all the fuss is about.”

Matilda tossed her head, although not a single raven hair shifted with the movement. Her berry-pink lips pursed in a smirk while her pale blue satin gown shimmered under the electric lights. “As if I would join this madness over some old English heir.”

Sylvie had to laugh. Matilda was the last one who would need to chase after a nobleman.

Her intended, a wildly rich heir in his own right, was certain to be lingering nearby, not letting his beloved fiancée out of his sight for a moment.

It was Matilda’s love story that had made Sylvie realize she didn’t have to settle for tolerating a husband the way most of the women around her did.

Since the proposal, she’d tried to use Matilda’s love match as an example of what could come of allowing a girl to choose which gentleman she was interested in, but her parents would hear none of it.

Leaning against her friend’s side, Sylvie sighed. “Mother is determined again, which means I’m going to be forced to spend as much of this evening as possible with this marquess, no matter how dull or stodgy he is.”

But as she watched her mother finally reach the man and force his attention from the others, Sylvie had to admit, those words strayed far from describing him.

His profile showed off a straight nose and strong, clean-shaven jaw.

Wide lips turned down at the corners until he offered her mother a smile, which appeared kind, if a little tense.

She couldn’t see much else of him over the bobbing feathers and elaborate hairstyles of the ladies surrounding him, but there was no chance he would be as paunchy as Mr. Greene.

In any other situation, Sylvie might have had an actual interest in spending some time with the man.

But she refused to play the games her mother insisted on contriving, so enjoying his company was regrettably not an option.

While she believed her parents wanted the best for her, Mother’s overbearing methods only served to drive a wedge between them.

Sylvie might not have as much experience and wisdom as her parents, but why couldn’t Mother see that Sylvie might not want what she was trying to arrange?

Wrapping her arm around Matilda’s, Sylvie leaned close to her friend. “Do you think we can escape before Mother manages to extricate him from the crowd and throws me at him?”

Matilda’s pitying smile didn’t do anything to lift Sylvie’s spirits. “I think it’s already too late. Here they come.”

Sure enough, she looked up to find Mother dragging the marquess along. “There you are, my dear. Sylvia, this is Mr. Miles Wentworth, Marquess of Rockingham. Mr. Wentworth, my daughter, Miss Sylvia Bryce. Since you’re new to our ranks, we intend to ensure you feel most welcome. Don’t we, Sylvia?”

The marquess looked down at her from an impressive height, confirming Sylvie’s assumption that he would be a much more attractive option than Mr. Greene.

Mr. Wentworth had broad shoulders and a muscular build evident through the snug fit of his evening clothes.

He didn’t sit behind a desk or smoke at the club all day like most of the men in the room.

There was clear interest in his brown eyes, but they also shifted back and forth, giving him the look of a powerful animal cooped up in a cage.

Maybe she should give this one a chance.

It would be unkind of her to respond with the disinterest she usually had to let slip in order to get away from the men her mother picked when this man had done nothing to offend her.

Sylvie decided on a genuine smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wentworth. I do hope you’re enjoying your evening. Our little social events couldn’t compare to what you’re used to in England, I’d imagine. You must have attended so many stunning balls.”

Instantly, his expression transformed. Fascinating how easy it was to read.

One minute, he looked at her with admiration that mirrored her own, and the next, he’d completely closed off.

“What I experienced in England certainly wouldn’t compare to this, but not in the way you’re thinking at all. Please excuse me, ladies.”

Sylvie stared at his retreating back in shock.

His crisp, elegant accent would have been lovely to listen to if his tone hadn’t been so harsh.

Usually, she was the one dismissing someone.

Had she done so on purpose so many times that she’d forgotten how to be friendly? “What did I say wrong this time?”