Chapter 14
Sylvie had to force her jaw to unclench at the reminder that they weren’t in the little alcove to enjoy each other’s company. But she had no one to blame except herself. It had been her idea to enlist his help in finding her secret admirer.
If only she didn’t harbor so much guilt over the way her heart was stretched thin between the admirer and Miles.
Instead of wallowing in that frustration, Sylvie returned to the task Miles had mentioned, with significant reluctance.
“Would you mind speaking with Mr. Nolan to see if you can uncover any clues? I’ll try to start a conversation with Mr. Dockerty.
Mr. Kinsey is at social functions more often than they are, so I’m sure I can arrange a conversation with him later if there isn’t time tonight. ”
A bitter taste filled Sylvie’s mouth as she said the words. Finding out the identity of the letter writer didn’t seem important at all anymore. What she’d rather do was spend the rest of the evening in that secluded corner, learning all sorts of things about Miles.
But her plans depended on leaving him to Lucy. Trying to balance her desires with her dreams was becoming more complicated than Sylvie ever could have imagined. The mess of her own making grew more upsetting all the time.
Sylvie looked up to find Miles staring at her with an odd expression, his eyebrows drawn together with a slight lift of one corner of his mouth.
Almost as if he was both amused and confounded by her.
But somehow, it didn’t bother her. Maybe because he was still helping her, even if she confused him.
After a moment, he answered with a curt nod, turned on the ball of one foot, and disappeared around the corner of the cabin.
It took Sylvie a long time to follow. She stood frozen in disappointment at first, wishing she could take back the request. But she had to follow through on her investigation into the secret admirer. He might be the solution to her dilemma, the man who could be both her choice and her desire.
So she spurred herself into action and swept across the deck to a table laden with refreshments.
Platters of rectangular finger sandwiches, cold meats, and sliced tomatoes and cucumbers covered one end of the table.
Sweeter offerings of fresh berries, tarts, jelly rolls, and ice cream adorned the other.
As she nibbled a tiny cake coated in delicate white frosting with a single strawberry on top, Sylvie kept Mr. Dockerty in view from the corner of her eye.
He was handsome enough, no older than thirty, and had a solid reputation as a kind, generous, intelligent man.
Sylvie hadn’t loathed the time or two she’d had reason to converse with him. And he was a wonderful dancer.
However, it was impossible to ignore the way her heart leaped in her chest when she caught a glimpse of Miles across the deck, compared to its steady pace when observing Mr. Dockerty.
Sylvie shook off the swirl of countless feelings that threatened to keep her from her mission.
She could analyze them later. Right now, she had a task to accomplish.
Sylvie made her way closer to where Mr. Dockerty was entertaining Adelle Moreau with what sounded like a tale from his childhood.
Sylvie drew on the acting skills she’d cultivated as the lady archer to appear casual, watching everyone except him.
Adelle was an unintentional ally, exclaiming when she caught sight of Sylvie, “Oh, Sylvie, there you are. Do come join us for a bit.”
Adelle moved over to allow Sylvie to form a small circle with them, which placed the other woman all but pressed against Mr. Dockerty’s arm. And if Sylvie wasn’t mistaken, that was a fond glance he shot in her friend’s direction.
Still, she ought to give it her best effort, just in case.
The gentleman in her letters had most recently quoted Mr. Darcy’s line, “‘My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever,’” so Sylvie would start there.
“Mr. Dockerty, it’s a pleasure to have you join us tonight.
‘The distance is nothing when one has a motive,’ wouldn’t you agree? ”
Frowning, Mr. Dockerty appeared lost. “I suppose. Although it wasn’t a very long distance at all to reach the dock on the island. The boat hasn’t traveled far across the lake to where we’re anchored either.”
Thwarted by his obvious lack of knowledge about the quote from Pride and Prejudice, Sylvie put forward several more references.
Mr. Dockerty was known to tend toward obliviousness, so perhaps he’d forgotten some of the phrases penned by Miss Austen.
After twenty minutes of slipping odd quotations into the conversation, though, Sylvie had to admit it was unlikely Mr. Dockerty was her admirer.
Between the warm looks he kept sending Adelle’s way and his ignorance of literature, Sylvie seemed to have misfired on her first try.
Sylvie spent another ten minutes or so in conversation with the two, joined by Leila.
Any other night, she would have been content to remain with her friends.
Tonight, however, Sylvie found an opening to extricate herself from the conversation, then ducked behind another group of chatting guests to look for her next target, Mr. Kinsey.
Dusk was falling by that point, making Sylvie’s efforts to find Mr. Kinsey more difficult.
The electric lights spaced along the railing and the glowing sweep of lighthouse lamps from various points on the shore helped only a bit.
Sylvie watched guests making their way around the deck, skimming faces until she locked eyes with Miles.
He sipped at a glass of punch while listening to Mr. Nolan and another young man, the two of whom appeared embroiled in an intense discussion.
Miles raised his glass the slightest bit in her direction with the hint of a smile warming his eyes, and Sylvie could have melted into a puddle on the spot.
Not one of the other gentlemen on the boat—or any that she’d ever met at a social gathering, for that matter—made her feel much of anything.
And certainly nothing as irresponsible as believing she might be falling in love.
Sylvie darted away from the crowded deck, not caring in the least if she found Mr. Kinsey.
It didn’t matter if he was writing the letters, or if it was Mr. Nolan, or anyone else.
It wasn’t Miles, and she could no longer try to convince herself that she would accept whoever it was instead.
If it wasn’t Miles, she didn’t want the man or his letters.
An explosion and burst of crackling light in the sky signaled the start of the fireworks.
All the guests turned toward the Sandusky shore, oohs and ahhs of delight interspersed with the eruption of mortar after mortar in the dark.
Usually Sylvie adored fireworks, but at that moment, all she wanted was to go home.
The long, busy day was catching up with her.
At least, that was what she would tell anyone who asked.
Weaving in between guests, Sylvie made her way to the back of the crowd.
She claimed a spot away from everyone else and propped her hip against the deck railing.
She’d only raised her face to watch the sky for a moment when Miles’s scent filled her senses.
His lips brushed her ear, close enough she could hear his low words over the next blast. “Do you enjoy the fireworks, or are you the kind of lady who becomes agitated by the noise?”
Sylvie twisted her torso to look up and back to where he stood behind her left shoulder. He was so near that his jacket brushed the back of her dress. “I love them. There’s something so magical about the lights and colors against the dark sky.”
Silence fell, but their eyes remained locked on each other.
Several more fireworks went off, but neither bothered to look.
Sylvie hardly dared to breathe lest it break the spell of the moment.
Miles smoothed back an errant lock of hair that had blown loose from her intricate hairstyle, and it was all Sylvie could do not to shudder at the light touch.
Distant strains of music from a band on the shore reached them, cheerful and buoyant.
But the air between her and Miles hung heavy with all the things she wished could be.
None of those things were possible, though.
Sylvie’s choices had seen to that. Lucy would destroy everything Sylvie had worked so hard for if she attempted to make her errant dreams into reality.
But would it be any better to watch Miles marry Lucy?
Staring into his eyes, watching them reflect the fireworks that filled the sky, Sylvie wondered what would happen if she told her mother what she’d been up to on her own terms. If she agreed to quit doing the archery show, would Mother hold it against Sylvie and use marriage as a punishment, anyway?
Would she marry Sylvie off to any man except Miles out of spite?
It would take some mulling over to decide if she actually did have any way of getting out of this mess with her heart unscathed.
But the fact remained that she wasn’t currently free to enjoy Miles’s attention.
If she made a mistake based on emotion, Sylvie would be stuck forever longing to return to that brief moment of freedom.
Sylvie let her eyes drift shut and gave herself one more brief second to enjoy the feeling of his rough fingers skimming her cheek. Then she turned her head away, eyes still closed because she couldn’t bear to see hurt in his eyes.
“Sylvie, please, tell me why you won’t consider me as more than a friend. Why must it matter what your mother wants? What you want is all that’s important to me.”