Chapter 16
The performance at the opera that evening was quite funny, and Sylvie appreciated the talent displayed by the cast. She even enjoyed Mr. Kinsey’s company. He was considerate and amusing, a polite, respectful, and interesting companion.
But thoughts of Miles tormented her during the course of the evening.
She glimpsed him in another box with the Loftons, but he never turned in her direction.
Had he seen her there? Observed her talking with Mr. Kinsey?
Would the idea of her being courted by another man upset Miles the way seeing Lucy throw herself in his direction upset Sylvie?
And that was how she realized that being friends with Miles would never work.
While the audience around her laughed at the ending of the show, tears gathered in Sylvie’s eyes.
If only she were brave enough to face her mother’s smugness for the rest of her life, thinking she’d gotten her way and married Sylvie off to the man of her choosing.
Would it be so terrible to live with that if it meant Sylvie also got to love Miles?
Sylvie couldn’t make up her mind on that in the space of one evening.
She’d fought against it for so long, she didn’t know if she could stand to let her mother get her way on the one thing Sylvie wanted to decide for herself.
All she knew for certain was that she wished it was Miles at her side, making her laugh with witty commentary on the delightful opera.
The lights brightened, and the audience began rising from their seats, greeting those they knew and making their way to the lobby.
Sylvie had no desire to participate in the typical society preening, so she excused herself to find a few moments of solitude, if any was to be had.
Not to look for Miles, though. She had no justifiable reason to do that.
But she did spend more time than necessary skimming her gaze around the fashionable lobby.
On any other day, she would have enjoyed the murals gracing the walls—mixed depictions of classic plays, biblical figures, and musical scenes.
Most of the audience had made their way out of the auditorium, as well, packing the lobby too full for comfort.
Before fleeing the crowd, Sylvie spotted a familiar face that made her breath catch.
But it wasn’t at all the one she’d been hoping for.
No, instead of Miles’s gentle smile and sculpted features, there was the reporter she’d tried so hard to get rid of earlier that day.
Sweat broke out along her back. How had he found her?
Despite her tip, had he remained at the resort all day and somehow recognized her when she arrived?
Had her disguise failed to such a spectacular degree?
Darting behind a nearby column that was wide enough to hide her, Sylvie pressed one hand to her heaving chest. She had to remain calm, or there would be a scene, and he would see her.
This was an opera house, filled with alcoves and dressing rooms. There were plenty of places to disappear for a bit.
Giving herself a moment to calm her breathing, Sylvie peeked around the column, taking great care not to stretch out too far.
He was still across the room, this time with his back to her.
Refusing to hesitate and miss her chance, Sylvie darted down the nearest hallway, one that ran along the side of the theatre, presumably to allow access to the backstage area.
Fewer people milled about there, but that made her more visible.
Sylvie checked behind her, keeping close to the wall as the hallway curved around the side of the theatre, glad for the way the architecture blocked the view to the lobby.
But she looked back a little too long because just as she turned her gaze forward again, she walked straight into a solid mass of masculinity.
Her hand flew up to cover a gasp, but her mind finally caught up with her eyes, and relief flooded her. “Oh, Miles. I’m sorry I bumped into you.”
His hands grasped her upper arms, keeping her steady while he assessed the situation. “Is something wrong? You look pale. Your companion didn’t do anything untoward, did he?” His jaw clenched. “He’ll regret it if he did.”
Sylvie blinked at Miles a few times. What unexpected intensity compared to the kind, mild-tempered man she usually saw. The rough timbre in his voice was somehow thrilling, but Sylvie couldn’t take time to figure out what that meant. “Please help me find a spot to hide. He might follow any minute.”
Miles moved instantly, grabbing her hand and retreating down the hallway with purposeful strides that Sylvie had to hop to keep up with.
He ducked through a doorway at the end of the hall that did indeed turn out to lead to the backstage area.
Opera house employees and members of the show were everywhere, all working to clean up and shut down the stage for the night.
But Miles didn’t stop there. Sylvie was out of breath by the time he pulled her across the stage behind the heavy velvet curtains and through a doorway in the shadows.
Another hallway, this one dimmer and more spartan than the one leading away from the lobby.
Miles peered around an open doorway, then whisked Sylvie inside before she had a chance to decide if they were allowed there or not.
They ended up in a cramped dressing room, furnished with a small vanity table and a matching chair.
Miles pressed the switch on the wall to turn on the electric sconces installed on either side of a round mirror, flooding the room with bright light.
Then he closed the door, shutting out the backstage bustle.
Sylvie caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
She was flushed all over, breathing hard, and very rumpled.
By contrast, Miles still looked dashing in his black evening suit, with not a single hair out of place.
He would look far better with a more capable, competent woman by his side, one who didn’t get into trouble this way.
Lucy Casburn would never have gotten herself into such a mess.
But he didn’t seem at all bothered by Sylvie’s appearance. Instead, he searched her face while his hands glided up and down her arms, sending shivers across her skin. “Sylvie, you must tell me what happened. What did Kinsey do?”
Sylvie shook her head. She’d forgotten to deny his assumption that Mr. Kinsey had done something to harm her.
“No, he didn’t do anything. He’s a perfect gentleman.
I’m afraid my…well…” Sylvie’s words trailed off.
How was she going to explain the situation when Miles didn’t know she was the lady archer, when he couldn’t understand her fear of being found out?
As she stood there fumbling for words, Miles’s eyes grew larger all the time. “Sylvie, you must tell me what’s happening.”
His tone was so worried, she almost told him.
The words stuck on the tip of her tongue, wanting to burst forth.
Hatred for the secret she was keeping from Miles welled up in Sylvie’s chest until it was nearly unbearable.
How much more enjoyable would performing the archery show be if no secrets stood between them?
If they could work together as friends, open and honest?
Sylvie reined in that wild desire. She couldn’t put Miles in the position of lying to people to cover up her secret.
It was enough of a burden on her. Dropping that weight on his shoulders would be unfair.
“It was a man who approached me one day. I got a terrible feeling from him, and now he’s here, and I worried for a moment that he was following me.
But I’m certain that’s silly. This is a public venue, and there are so many people who come to see performances. I’m sorry for worrying you that way.”
Miles didn’t believe her. Sylvie could see it in the way he narrowed his eyes and the set of his jaw. And she despised the parts she had to omit the minute the explanation left her lips. Why did she have to keep piling on complications to protect her freedom?
But he didn’t press the matter. “It’s wise to be careful, so I’m glad you came to me. Shall I go see if he’s gone? What did he look like?”
Sylvie instantly relaxed. Yes, if Miles could go check for the reporter while she remained hidden, that would solve the problem.
Perhaps he could even find her parents and Mr. Kinsey and tell them that she was unwell and would need a few moments.
“He was somewhat unremarkable, wearing a simple brown suit. Blonde, medium height. He might have a notepad in hand. See, it’s silly of me.
Perhaps he’s a reporter who’s here to write a story on the comedic opera performances. ”
To Sylvie’s surprise, Miles froze with one hand on the doorknob. “A reporter in a brown suit?”
He didn’t turn to look at her, but his voice was hard. Something was wrong. Had he pieced together her secret somehow? Or had Mr. Howell caught up with him earlier, after all, and it had gone badly?
With slow deliberation, Miles dropped his hand and faced her.
She’d never seen such intensity in his eyes, not even when he asked if Mr. Kinsey had hurt her.
With her mind racing to figure out what was going on, Sylvie nodded.
“Yes, he wasn’t pleasant in our exchange, so I’d rather not run into him again. ”
Icy daggers shot from Miles’s eyes, aimed right at Sylvie.
He stalked forward several steps until she was forced back against the vanity, craning her neck to look up at him.
“A remarkably similar reporter was snooping around the laboratory today, trying to get an interview with me. No one here would ever think I have a story worth telling. Did I let something slip, Sylvie? Have you ferreted out my dark past and decided the world must know?”