Chapter 15
By the beginning of August, Sylvie had to admit Miles was right about their complicated new trick shot.
People loved the perilous, theatrical nature of it.
A buzz had started about the show that brought a surge of new viewers every time they performed.
It was all Sylvie had hoped to achieve and more.
She’d also managed to pacify Lucy by holding Miles at bay a bit about their investigation.
She’d claimed wanting to avoid any suspicion about them being seen together at functions.
In truth, she didn’t have much interest in actually uncovering the identity of her admirer anymore, anyway.
The letters continued to arrive, and they were beautiful.
They stirred her heart and lifted her spirits.
But Sylvie found they paled in comparison to the hours spent with Miles practicing for and performing their show.
At social events, Sylvie struggled with watching Miles from a distance.
She hated seeing Lucy’s sly, false smiles and affectionate behavior with him.
But deep down, she also gloated a little because she knew the real Miles Wentworth far better than Lucy did.
Maybe Sylvie wasn’t able to claim him as her own, but she got to be his friend, and that was worth more than the superficial flirting Lucy clung to.
On this Monday, Lucy was the farthest thing from Sylvie’s mind.
The show’s popularity had brought an increased interest from reporters along with the growing audiences.
Sylvie did her best not to speak with them, terrified she would slip and reveal something that might give away her identity.
She’d asked Miles to speak to them on her behalf whenever possible, but today he had a meeting with Ohio State University officials about his recent discovery and wouldn’t be at the show.
And she hadn’t been able to find Mr. Miller beforehand to ask him to intercept them for her.
Thus, at the end of the performance—which hadn’t been as well received without Miles there to have an apple shot off his head—Sylvie was cornered by a man in a plain brown suit with a notepad and pencil at the ready. “Could I have a moment of your time? Jeremy Howell from the Cleveland Press.”
Sylvie shook her head, trying to look busy with gathering her arrows. “No, I’m afraid that’s not possible. I don’t speak to reporters.”
The man tilted his head with a shrewd narrowing of his eyes. “Your partner often does. Why don’t you, I wonder?”
Sylvie ignored the comment, certain he was looking for any way to get her talking. She slid a handful of arrows back into the quiver at her waist. Then she hoisted the target and started toward the building with it, praying he would take the action for the dismissal she intended.
Unfortunately, the reporter didn’t catch the hints that she’d rather be left alone.
Or he didn’t care. Instead, he trotted after her, undeterred.
“Does the disguise hide your real identity? Or perhaps some disfiguration? Most people would want to enjoy the type of fame you’re getting, not hide from it.
There must be something that keeps you in the shadows. ”
My, he was tenacious. But Sylvie had a knack for letting goading words roll off her thanks to years of living with her mother.
She set the target by the wall where Mr. Miller had left several others and turned to the reporter, hands on her hips.
“You will not be getting information from me. Please go on about your day and leave me to mine.”
His eyes brightened. Those words had been some kind of a mistake, though she couldn’t imagine what. “Ah, yes, the rest of your day. If I wait long enough, you’ll need to leave the resort. And then I can see where the mysterious Lady Archer spends the rest of her time.”
Panic bit at Sylvie’s stomach, causing it to clench. The one day she didn’t have someone to help deflect reporters was the day this stubborn fellow showed up. God, give me a way to escape this man.
Mr. Howell watched her with a steady gaze.
He had her cornered. And what could she do?
Even if she was free to spend her whole day at the resort without making anyone at home suspicious, he seemed committed enough to follow through and wait until she had to leave.
While there were several docks on the peninsula and she might be able to escape him in the crowd, he knew when she would be back, thanks to the show schedule.
Eventually, he would manage to follow her long enough to see her without her costume or be able to put together pieces to identify her.
As if delivered straight from the Lord, an idea flitted through her mind, one that might help both her and Miles.
Gritting her teeth, Sylvie faced him with her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m not sure why you want to pursue a story so many other reporters have already covered.
This show has been well covered in local papers in recent weeks.
However, I happen to know of an interesting story that might be worth your time. ”
His lips twisted in a sarcastic smile, but Sylvie caught an intrigued gleam hiding in his eyes. “Well played, Miss Archer. I’ll take the bait. What might this story be?”
“There’s a university research facility at Biemiller’s Cove, south of the resort.
One of their researchers recently made a fascinating discovery about the way dysentery spreads through insects.
A potential breakthrough in stemming the tide of a disease would surely be of more interest to your readers than old news about an archery demonstration. ”
The reporter scribbled some notes, and Sylvie gave him more specific directions to the research laboratory.
As he walked away, relief mingled with something heavier in her chest. Had she been right to send him to Miles without any warning?
The reporter didn’t seem to be the most scrupulous man.
Would he write an accurate article about Miles’s work that would help him gain visibility, or would it turn out to be a mistake?
Sylvie had far too much time the rest of that day to ponder those questions and a myriad more.
Mother intercepted her the moment she stepped through the door at home, demanding that Sylvie sit through visiting hours with her that afternoon.
So, after cleaning up and dressing to receive guests, Sylvie settled on the most comfortable settee in the parlor and braced herself for inane socializing.
Silence filled the room while they waited.
Mother passed the time with some handiwork.
Sylvie’s hands had grown so rough from handling her bow more than usual that she feared she’d snag more thread than she was able to stitch.
So she sat and waited, questions swirling in her mind while the clock ticked away.
Finally, their butler appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Kinsey and Mr. Greene, my lady.”
The two gentlemen entered the room as soon as the butler stepped back.
Sylvie slid her best graceful smile into place.
Mr. Greene’s presence was always a trial, but Mr. Kinsey seemed a nice enough fellow.
And she hadn’t succeeded in testing whether or not he could be her secret admirer yet.
Perhaps she could get herself into a conversation with him while Mother entertained Mr. Greene.
Discovering the author wasn’t all that important to her anymore, but it would give her something to do.
Unfortunately, Mr. Greene made a beeline to claim the seat next to Sylvie on the settee. “Good afternoon, Miss Bryce. I trust you’re having a nice day.”
Years of practice in social niceties took over control of Sylvie’s body and mouth. Instead of rolling her eyes at the pandering sentiment, she inclined her head toward him. “Most certainly. And you?”
Mr. Greene’s lips stretched into a broad grin. “Oh, it was lovely. I spent the morning at the Cedar Point resort. Have you been? There were so many fascinating sights to behold.”
A chilly grip strangled Sylvie’s heart. Had he been anywhere near the archery demonstration? She’d been so distracted by the pushy reporter that she might have slipped in a way someone who knew her would notice.
Refusing to panic, Sylvie forced another nod and kept her tone even. “I have. I went with Miss Duboise and the Moreau sisters last month. It’s quite the spectacle, to be sure.”
Mr. Greene nodded with far too much enthusiasm. “Yes, yes, indeed. What was your favorite attraction?”
Usually, this gentleman prattled on about himself.
Why did he choose now—with her mother right across from them, most assuredly eavesdropping even in the midst of her small talk with Mr. Kinsey—to pursue a topic that hit so close to Sylvie’s secret?
“Ah, I don’t believe I could choose a favorite.
What attractions did you have the opportunity to enjoy? ”
There, turning the conversation back to him might fix the problem.
Sylvie only half listened as he talked about walking the boardwalk, riding a boat through the lagoons, and eating at a lunch counter.
But her brooding halted when he finally made a definitive statement.
“My favorite would have to be the archery demonstration, if I must choose. Did you know they have a female archer there who dresses as Robin Hood and performs the most marvelous trick shots? I’ve heard that when she has a partner, the show is an absolute spectacle, but Will Scarlet wasn’t there today.
I intend to return and see if I can catch a show with him involved. ”
Oh, wonderful. She’d wanted word to spread about the show, believing it would be the best possible result.
But she hadn’t considered the way she would be put on the spot when the members of Cleveland’s high society got wind of it.
Sylvie would need to be ever so much more careful to protect herself.