Chapter 8 #2
When her mother finally paused her judgmental comments, Sylvie took a moment to scan the crowded beach.
Many people had situated themselves on smaller boats all along the shore, ensuring the perfect vantage point to watch the race.
But others would stay on the beach, enjoying tents that had been set up all along it to provide shade.
Colorful flags and ribbons hung all around, fluttering in the warm, humidity-laced breeze.
Still next to Sylvie, Mother gasped. “Ah, as I’d hoped. The marquess is here. Sylvia, you must claim a spot near him to watch the race. With any luck, he’ll be charmed rather than put off by your unusual interest in competition.”
Sylvie managed not to roll her eyes, dropping her chin to hide any hint of her true feelings about the jab. “I’ll see what I can do, Mother. But he’s in high demand, you know.”
Mother pinched her ribs, causing Sylvie to jerk upright again. “You have an advantage. He seems to enjoy talking to you. Go do as I’ve said now.”
The irritation in her hissed words stung every bit as much as the pinch, but Sylvie forced a calm expression. The sooner she agreed, the sooner she could escape her parents. “Yes, Mother.”
Thankfully, several of Mother’s friends noticed their arrival and descended upon her in a crush of malicious gossip and overwhelming perfumes. Sylvie made a quick escape, looking for Matilda.
But instead of finding her dear friend, a rough grip pulled on Sylvie’s arm as she rounded the corner of a tent.
She winced, wrenching her arm away and glancing up at the clear, brilliant blue sky so she wouldn’t give Lucy the satisfaction of seeing tears of pain welling in her eyes.
“Hello, Lucy. Fine day for a boat race, isn’t it? ”
Without so much as a greeting, Lucy leaned close and stuck her finger in Sylvie’s face, the skirt of her pristine white dress brushing against Sylvie’s more practical navy one.
“This is your chance to protect your secret. The marquess is here, and I expect you to point his attention toward me during any conversation he may strike up with you. We still have a deal, I assume?”
Sylvie nodded, a sickening swell of regret hitting her harder than any wave on the lake might. Lucy smirked, straightened her excessively large hat, and spun around, leaving Sylvie standing in the shade without another word.
Despite her nod, Sylvie couldn’t follow through. The mere thought of lying to Mr. Wentworth by claiming Lucy would be an appropriate match for him made her gag. She would have to do all she could to avoid him. Today and at every society event for the summer.
Surely, she could manage that small feat.
Disappointment flooded Miles when the race began and he still hadn’t caught even a glimpse of Miss Bryce on the beach.
She was there somewhere. He’d found her parents under one of the tents and had a brief conversation with them during which Mrs. Bryce assured him her daughter had come along with them.
He’d even asked her friend, Miss Duboise, who mentioned her surprise over not seeing Miss Bryce yet either.
Was something wrong? Had something happened to her once she departed from her parents?
Or was she avoiding him?
Miles wracked his memories. Had she realized he knew her secret identity, leading her to cut off contact with him to protect herself? But how could she have done? He’d been so careful at the resort the other day.
No, there must be something else. And his sinking suspicion was that he’d been too excited after their successful demonstration, that he’d pushed too hard about practicing in secret.
Of course, she would balk at meeting him alone in the woods.
How ridiculous of him to even believe such an idea worth mentioning.
She might have hidden depths of strength, courage, and independence, but she was still a lady with perfect manners and a reputation that should be protected, not sullied.
He’d been a fool. Perhaps he should put more of his energy into attempting to court her through letters, after all, if he was going to fail so completely in person.
A cheer rose from some of the crowd, pulling his attention back to the current event.
Next to him, Alexander wasn’t paying the least bit of attention, instead focused on keeping his wife as comfortable as possible and making her giggle with silly antics.
Miles had noticed his friend’s tendency to spoil her and, at first, considered it a weakness.
But he was beginning to realize how certain women inspired men to such behavior, and those men might not even see it was happening.
Uninterested in the race—and anxious to escape the oversweet moment between his hosts—Miles left them to their excellent vantage point.
Crossing the sand with steps intended to keep as much out of his shoes as he could, he came across a tent housing several tables of refreshments.
It was empty of other spectators, thanks to the excitement happening on the water, so Miles was free to down three tiny glasses of punch in quick succession.
As much as he hated to admit it, Miss Bryce had managed to bother him without even being nearby.
A brush of fabric against the back of the canvas tent pulled Miles out of his dour contemplation.
He straightened and set the glass on the cloth-covered table so he could make a quick escape.
The sunlight revealed a feminine profile behind the tent, and the last thing he needed was for one of the debutantes to realize she had him all to herself.
Before he could leave, however, a violent thump and a familiar mutter came from the direction of the shadow.
With growing curiosity—and a strong dose of anticipation—Miles stepped over to sweep aside the canvas, revealing Miss Bryce in the tall grass behind the tent, tugging on her skirt while muttering with a scowl on her face.
It was tempting to stand and watch her. Frustration creased her brow, and he was relatively certain she was uttering something a bit unladylike under her breath.
Her flattering navy blue outfit brought out the color of her eyes in perfect contrast to the pink flush tinging her cheeks.
She somehow remained charming and beautiful even with a bead of sweat trailing down her forehead as she worked to free herself.
Soon enough, Miles had to take pity on her.
Moving closer, he ignored her surprised gasp and knelt to release her hem from the clinging thorns of a wild blackberry bush.
Rising again, he gave her a moment to regain her composure.
“I’d ask what has you sneaking around in the brush back here, but I can hazard a guess it might be the same thing keeping me away from the beach at the moment. ”
Smoothing her skirt, she sighed. “Other people? I’m quite through with them today, to be honest.”
He chuckled. It might not have been the response she expected, as her head jerked back so she could see his face.
Most of those present at the event would have taken offense at her comment, but Miles understood it better than she could realize.
“There isn’t anyone in this tent except me.
You’re welcome to share my hiding spot.”
Unexpectedly, Miles’s heart soared when she followed him back into the tent without hesitation.
While the front was open to view the water, the tent had long, flowing sides to protect the refreshments from blowing sand.
It was as private a hiding place as they would find at such an event.
And what a privilege to be the exception to her desire to escape people.