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“You stole my opportunity to speak with a potential suitor.”

His eyebrows lifted high, chin dipping. “Forgive me for standing in the way of love.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know very well I am currently looking for the man who writes those notes.”

“You believe you have found another candidate? Did he do something to indicate his interest?”

“Perhaps.” Millie started down the mostly empty aisle toward the doors, where Mr. Tomlinson stood speaking to Nell and Lord Dalmeer, the son of their hostess. She felt Wesley’s presence at her side. Was she ridiculous for wondering if each man who smiled at her was in love with her? No. Not when someone in the house was leaving her romantic notes and failing to sign their name. They wished for this to be a game, or they would have already walked up to her directly and told her how they felt.

Wouldn’t they?

“What was it about the gentleman that inspired this belief?”

Millie paused, resting her hand on the back of a wooden pew. “I cannot tell you.”

“Why not?”

“You will mock me.”

“I would never do anything of the sort. It is hurtful that you would believe me capable.”

That was true to an extent. Wesley was far too mature for anything so childish. That did not remove the feeling that he would find her reasons ridiculous, however.

“Perhaps not, but you will not be in agreement with me,” she said.

Wesley rested both hands behind his back and took a moment to consider her. “I have been nothing but supportive of your quest.”

Millie chewed on her bottom lip, considering him. Yes, he was willing to help her keep watch for her secret suitor, and yes, he had been supportive when she wished to discuss possible gentlemen. The air of judgment he possessed was not tangible. There were no examples she could present to validate her feelings. All the same, something about the way he interacted with her made Millie believe he was not supportive of this secret suitor.

“Who was the gentleman?” Wesley asked.

“Mr. Hawthorne.”

“This occurred during the service, then?”

Millie looked to ensure the vicar was still occupied before leaning slightly closer and lowering her voice. “He found Mr. Tomlinson’s behavior as humorous as I did, and we shared a look over the matter.”

Wesley nodded. “I can see why that would lead you to add him to your list. Shall we find Mr. Hawthorne and put him to the test?”

Millie narrowed her eyes. “You are far too eager to help. Are you not taking me seriously?”

“The opposite, in fact. I would like to have this mystery solved.” Wesley looked up, noting a couple from the village approaching to pass them in the aisle, and trained a bland smile on his face. “Perhaps this would be better discussed later.”

“Discussed?” Millie said, walking at his side as they made their way toward the door. “What is there to discuss?”

He shot her a knowing look. “How we intend to figure out who is writing you those letters.”

The long gallery was tall, at least two stories high, with pale peach walls covered in ornate golden frames. The paintings depicted a range of subjects, from family pets to ancestors to landscapes. Sizable windows punctuating each end of the hall and lining the outside wall were dark, making it the perfect atmosphere for drawing silhouettes.

Chairs were set at even intervals along the wall. Candles perched on small, high tables to the other side of the chairs, so when a person sat in front of the candle, their shadow would appear on the wall. The room was otherwise dim. Many people had already begun, holding papers against the wall to trace the shadow. Millie had followed Nell and Wesley into the room as others were settling in with their partner.

Lord and Lady Weymouth—a recently married couple—were already seated and working on their drawings while Oliver set up his place beside them, intending to trace the shadow of a young woman Millie did not know well, Miss Fuller. She had seen Miss Fuller about the house, but they had not yet been formally introduced. As the younger woman seemed incredibly shy, there had not been many opportunities for them to interact.

Millie admired Oliver’s dedication to the task, catching his eye and doing her best not to laugh at the uncharacteristically serious expression he wore. He shot her a look before returning his attention to Miss Fuller.

“Have you chosen your partner yet, Mr. Prescott?” a syrupy voice said just over Millie’s shoulder, one she knew quite well. She clenched her hand into a fist, hidden within the folds of her skirt. If Miss Stroud took Wesley as a partner, who would draw Millie’s silhouette? She glanced down the length of the room. Most of the gentlemen were already taken.

Millie turned quickly, hoping to snag Nell, but found her in conversation with Mr. Tinston.