Chapter 10
A week after the literary reading, Sylvie sat in her room on Monday morning, pondering while soaking in sunlight streaming through the window by her writing desk.
She’d need to leave for Cedar Point soon if she didn’t want to be late for that day’s show.
She could use a few good shows. The previous week had missed the mark thanks to storms that lingered over the area and caused the cancellation of many outdoor amusements at the resort.
But for once, Sylvie was tempted to remain at home. And it was all due to the letter in her hand.
It had arrived the previous afternoon, but Sylvie hadn’t bothered to open it until only an hour ago, after breakfast. It was a shame, too, because she would have liked more time to stew over the contents.
Dearest Miss Bryce,
From the moment I first saw you, I was enchanted.
That sounds trite, perhaps, something any suitor might utter.
But it must be said because it is the reality of my every waking moment.
I’ve remained a distant admirer after noticing your struggle with potential suitors being pushed upon you.
I was searching for a different approach to wooing a woman who deserves so much more than whichever man who holds the greatest wealth or power.
You deserve love, passion, friendship, and camaraderie all wrapped into a marriage you’ve chosen for yourself with thoughtful wisdom.
I hope one day you might consider me a possible candidate to fill that coveted position in your life.
With such hopes in mind, I intend to use the written word to show the depth of my feelings for you.
They grow deeper each time we meet. I’m smitten, to say the least. But as Mr. Wilde wrote, “The very essence of romance is uncertainty,” and until you are certain of me, I won’t push for your affection.
When the time is right, I will reveal my identity to you.
For now, I’m ever yours,
A Secret Admirer
Of all things, a love letter. An anonymous missive filled with beautiful phrases written in neat, masculine handwriting.
Sylvie had never received a love letter.
She certainly would never have imagined one might affect her in such a way.
It seemed like a silly thing to become all aflutter over.
But her heart was fluttering. And whose wouldn’t when she read such words, sentiments hinting at a man who had peered into her soul?
There was even a quote from The Importance of Being Earnest. A man who was well-read along with charming.
It was enough to make her melt into a puddle of mush.
The clock on her mantel chimed, reminding Sylvie she didn’t have all day to dream about the man who’d written such lovely words. Or why he didn’t leave a way for her to respond. What was she supposed to do with all the feelings his words stirred up?
After finally rising, Sylvie tucked the letter deep under her mattress.
One of the maids revealing it to her mother was something she simply wasn’t ready to face.
After pulling out the satchel with her cloak hidden inside, Sylvie made her way to the steamboat dock.
But the entire way, she couldn’t stop mulling over the hidden paper and who the mysterious author might be.
She’d run off a good number of suitors over the last couple of years.
But to her knowledge, they’d all moved on easily.
They’d been drawn by her fortune and family name, not any feelings for Sylvie herself.
So far during their time away from town, she’d only been approached by Mr. Greene.
That was, if one didn’t count Mr. Wentworth—Miles.
After their discussion at the literary reading, Sylvie couldn’t imagine he’d written something so romantic.
She’d been blunt, and he’d accepted her refusal without argument.
Perhaps he’d enjoyed spending time with Lucy more than Sylvie could have expected, leaving him unbothered by Sylvie’s desire to remain single for now.
Whatever the reason, the tendril of hope that he might have written the letter made no sense given the reality of their current situation.
And Sylvie didn’t believe for a moment Mr. Greene was capable of penning such lovely words. So who might have sent it?
The ship slowed as it approached the dock on the Cedar Point peninsula.
People all around her began gathering their belongings and preparing to disembark, most of them excited for a day of revelry at the resort.
But Sylvie remained in her seat as long as possible, her mind turning in a different direction at the reminder of the conversation with Miles last week.
He didn’t know she was the lady archer, so continuing to do the shows together likely wouldn’t bother him in the least. But she knew who he was.
And she was dreading working with him again after they’d agreed to see each other as friends with no romantic hopes involved.
Over the course of the week before, she’d only seen him at one ball, a large, crowded one where it had been all too easy to avoid him and allow Lucy to monopolize his time.
He hadn’t looked miserable, which made Sylvie question why she was so unhappy with the situation.
She might have even felt a pang of regret for rebuffing him.
But she forced the notion as far as possible into the back of her mind.
Pursuing her own future, without letting her mother decide it for her, was far more important than her fleeting feelings.
They would pass, and then she’d be thankful she didn’t saddle herself to a man who could immediately move on from her and be happy with Lucy.
But now she would have to face him, and it would be a struggle, even if her costume provided some barrier between them.
Her heart craved the impending meeting more than she liked.
So Sylvie busied her mind with going over and over the beautiful words in the letter while she donned her disguise at the bathhouse, then waited in her usual private spot for the show to start.
Perhaps she needed a new hiding place, though.
She had just settled in the secluded corner when Miles himself walked up, red silk tunic stretched across his broad shoulders and mask already in place.
Did he have any idea how warm that particular shade of fabric made his brown eyes look?
They could melt a woman where she stood.
“Good afternoon, my lady Robin. I’m glad to be back to our performances, aren’t you? ”
Sylvie only nodded, not trusting herself to speak to him without revealing the roiling emotions his presence created.
She’d hoped to have Mr. Miller and the audience there to act as a buffer for the effect of his closeness when she saw Miles again.
But he’d ruined such optimistic wishes by coming to find her.
Miles looked down at her with a grin while leaning one shoulder against the stone wall of the Coliseum and crossing his arms over his chest, biceps bulging. He was so close to her. Why did he have to stand so close? “Not feeling talkative today? That’s all right. I don’t mind comfortable silence.”
And he proved it by lounging quietly at her side for the next few minutes.
But the lack of conversation to distract Sylvie allowed her senses to run wild.
She fought to keep her breathing regular instead of inhaling the lovely, masculine scent wafting off of him.
If she straightened the merest bit more, her shoulder would brush his chest. Would she be able to feel the warmth of his skin through the silk tunic if she pressed her hand to his chest?
Yanking herself out of that line of thought with a physical flinch before she did something foolish caused Sylvie’s head to bump against the stone wall behind her. “Ow.” She raised one hand to rub the sore spot.
In a heartbeat, Miles loomed over her, reaching for her hood before pausing his hand in mid-air, as if he’d intended to move the hood aside to see if she’d hurt herself but realized he shouldn’t. “Are you injured? I’m sorry if I startled you somehow.”
Physically injured? No. But Sylvie’s heart felt battered in the strangest way.
It almost hurt to be this near to him while knowing he could only be her partner for the show and a comrade in society, nothing more.
The privilege of pursuing a deeper relationship with him now belonged to Lucy.
And soon enough, the other woman might be free to explore his nearness in ways Sylvie would never be allowed.
Surely, it was for the best. Sylvie had an opportunity in her secret admirer now.
The warm, genuine sentiments in the letter hinted that she might enjoy the company of the author in the same way she cherished being with Miles.
Could this be God’s way of rewarding her years of obedience?
Was He finally giving her the kind of blessing she’d always longed for?
It was time to let go of what couldn’t be and focus on the future she’d been envisioning for so long with so little hope.
Thanks to the success of making her own choice to work at the resort, Sylvie’s confidence in herself grew every day.
If she could make this unusual choice of occupation work, she could also make a wise pick in her husband without her mother’s interference. That man just couldn’t be Miles.
Pushing away from the wall, Sylvie ignored the way Miles’s brow wrinkled as she started toward the lawn.
“I’m fine. It was a mere bump. Mr. Miller is signaling for us, but the crowd doesn’t appear to be as full as the last few shows.
You don’t think they’ve already lost interest in the new trick, do you? ”
Miles rushed to catch up with her, adjusting his mask as he examined the seating area. “The break last week might have cooled people’s interest. I’m certain it will recover soon enough now that we’re performing again.”