Chapter 13
The way Miles’s gaze locked on Sylvie’s lips proved exhilarating in a way she’d never experienced before. She was at once both frightened by it and more intrigued than any other time in her life. What an interesting puzzle it would be to decipher the meaning behind that intense expression.
But despite the heightened emotions rolling through her, she was wholly unprepared for the reality of his head tipping forward and his lips brushing over hers.
Sylvie’s heart exploded into a rapid thumping that resembled running up and down the grand staircase in their house back in Cleveland about twenty times in a row.
Sweat beaded across the back of her neck that had nothing to do with the hot, humid day.
A strange swirling took over her stomach.
None of it was unpleasant, though. In fact, she longed for it to go on and on.
But almost as soon as it started, Miles turned his head, removing the delicious sensation of his warm lips. He pushed himself up off the ground and rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to meet her gaze. “I apologize, Miss Robin. That was unprofessional, to say the least.”
Her racing heart turned to solid rock in an instant, feeling heavy enough to drop clear into her stomach.
She also rose, marching over to get her bow, which she’d all but flung to the ground in her rush to make certain he wasn’t hurt.
“Think nothing of it. We’ll pretend it didn’t happen.
But I do think we should stop for today.
I’ll be missed if I don’t return home soon. ”
Following his lead and avoiding looking in his direction, Sylvie grabbed her bag, stuffed the pillow inside, and rushed out of the clearing.
He might have called for her to wait, but she didn’t allow herself to turn back around.
She would stop later and put her cloak and bow away.
For now, she needed to get away from Miles before he noticed the tears welling in her eyes.
Why was she so upset? Why should she care if the man who had given her the most fleeting first kiss in history immediately regretted it? It didn’t deserve her tears—that was for certain.
But as she made her way to the dock, stopping to stash her cloak before anyone saw her in it, the tears decided on their own to fall.
She kept her head down, walking with a purposeful stride that would hopefully keep anyone from noticing or questioning her.
She could let the tears flow once she was home in her room.
The steamer ride back to the dock at Put-In-Bay took far too long.
The holiday had many more people than usual out and about, causing delays in loading the boat.
The long wait wasn’t helped by the realization she had after squeezing into a cramped spot on one of the wooden benches lining the deck.
Miles didn’t know he’d kissed Sylvie Bryce.
Perhaps he had agreed to be Sylvie’s friend for the summer because his heart was leaning toward someone he believed was another woman.
Was he falling in love with the archer in disguise?
The notion churned up Sylvie’s emotions even further.
At least that would mean he wasn’t interested in pursuing Lucy, as Sylvie had feared.
It was a bit flattering to think he appreciated the character she played at the resort so much that he could fancy himself besotted with her.
And she still had good reasons not to let herself fall for him.
But that didn’t remove the ridiculous impulse to cry over him kissing the archer, not her.
Sylvie cradled her head in her hands for most of the journey.
She had made such a mess of things, but there seemed to be no way out beyond exposing secrets she wasn’t ready to reveal yet.
Sylvie made the walk from the dock to their summer cottage with slow, plodding steps, as if the extra time would reveal a perfect solution to her convoluted problems. It did not, however, and all she wanted by the time she reached the house was to retire to her room and lose herself in a book that had nothing to do with the chaos she’d created.
Unfortunately, Mother intercepted her as soon as she entered the house. “Sylvia, where have you been? There are so many preparations to attend to.”
Blinking in confusion, Sylvie tried to catch up with her mother’s words. “Preparations for what?”
Mother patted her already perfect coiffure.
“I invited a select group to join us on the yacht tonight. We’ll go out and watch the fireworks show from the water with refreshments and music.
It will be lovely. But you need to get dressed.
” Mother leaned closer and picked at a piece of grass stuck to Sylvie’s sleeve.
“And cleaned up. How did you get to be such a mess helping at the church?”
Yanking her arm away, Sylvie headed toward the stairs. “I went out back and practiced my archery for a bit before coming inside. I got a bit rumpled while retrieving arrows. I’ll take care of that and dress for the evening.”
Sylvie made it to her room without further holdups and sank onto her bed. The last thing she wanted to do now was force smiles and lighthearted small talk at a social event. Would Mother believe it if she sent word downstairs that she was ill?
A quiet knock at the door preceded Delia breezing in. “Good afternoon, miss. Your mother sent me to help you dress. Do you have a gown in mind?”
The maid finally took a good look at Sylvie, who must have been completely rumpled and tear stained. “Miss Sylvie, you don’t look well. Has something happened? Your activities today didn’t include any harm, I hope?”
Sylvie attempted to shake her head but instead burst into sobs. Delia rushed to wrap her arms around Sylvie’s shoulders and let her cry until she was out of tears. Then the maid handed Sylvie a handkerchief with a determined look. “Now, tell me what happened. Did the show go badly today?”
Able to shake her head this time, Sylvie finished wiping her face and returned the cloth. “No, we didn’t have a show today. I went to practice in private with Miles.”
Delia’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes growing huge. “Miss Sylvie, no. You can’t go around meeting with men in secret.”
The shock in her tone brought up Sylvie’s defenses. She rose and paced the length of the room. “Nothing untoward happened. It was one small brush of the lips—that’s it.”
A resounding gasp from Delia reminded Sylvie that detail might have been better kept to herself. “A kiss, as well! Miss Sylvie, that’s mighty dangerous.”
Sylvie threw up her hands. “It isn’t as if he has romantic inclinations toward me, Delia.
He agreed that we should be friends who help each other at social events.
He hasn’t seemed bothered by that in the least since we spoke of it.
And he doesn’t know who the archer is, anyway.
I’ve been very careful with my identity, especially since Miss Casburn discovered it. ”
It was Delia’s turn to shake her head. “I don’t believe he wouldn’t’ve realized it was you, Miss Sylvie, or that he doesn’t have romantic inclinations toward you anymore.
You might consider the likelihood he knows more than he’s letting on.
He doesn’t seem like the sort of gentleman to go around kissing a lady without knowing for certain who she is. ”
Sylvie had to agree that he wasn’t. But he’d also been obviously regretful of the action as soon as he did it. So it wasn’t as if he’d planned to kiss her or even considered it beforehand. No, it had been an accident and one that Sylvie was confident wouldn’t be repeated.
Marching to her wardrobe, Sylvie shuffled through her clothing, eventually dragging out a lightweight gown made of blue crepe with white silk and lace underneath. “This will do. It won’t be as stifling as some of my other gowns might.”
Delia took the hint in her subject change and didn’t speak of Miles again while she helped Sylvie dress and then arranged her hair in intricate loops held with jeweled pins.
But she paused before pulling the door open and turned back to spear Sylvie with an intent gaze.
“Miss, I’m going to speak my mind plainly.
I’ve seen you strive to do what everyone wants you to, without taking much for yourself.
That’s why I helped you with this scheme.
But I worry you’re missing the blessings the good Lord is putting right in front of you because you’re so all-fire set on doing things your way.
Now you have a good time tonight, miss.”
Sylvie had to swallow hard before croaking out a thanks as Delia disappeared into the hall.
Her thoughts spun. Was Delia implying Miles was a blessing God was trying to give Sylvie?
Or perhaps if Delia knew about the secret admirer, she would realize he might be Sylvie’s true blessing.
Yes, that was more likely to be God’s plan for her.
Realizing she’d be late if she sat trying to reason it out any longer, Sylvie glanced over her reflection in the mirror, then returned downstairs to meet her parents.
They arrived at the island dock well before their guests would so they could board the yacht and be ready to greet everyone as if they were receiving them at home.
Sylvie stood by her parents while Mother fussed at Father over the condition of the boat, but she didn’t pay much attention until Mother turned in her direction.
“Now Sylvia, with this being a small event that will not include Lucy Casburn, I expect you to make every effort to catch the marquess’s attention.
It shouldn’t be difficult. He’s obviously partial to you. ”
Sylvie turned to her mother with panic building in her chest. “You invited Mil—Mr. Wentworth? Mother, why would you do such a thing?”