“Your servant has arrived,” he said from the doorway. Her heart underwent a series of severe palpitations before it settled down to a more regular, if rapid, rhythm.
By now she should have been accustomed to being carried about. Indeed, her arms went quite automatically to clasp around his neck and her cheek to lie against his waistcoat. But then her heart started taking silly notions again.
Fortunately, Phoebe was there to ask, “What’s the new book about, milord? We’re reading Mrs. Shelley’s now. It’s most horrendously frightening.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, cousin.” Ranfield sent Phoebe a smile that made Aurelia’s heart flop over completely. “This book isn’t a romance. This is a volume on aeronautics. I want to discuss it with Miss Amesley.”
“Oh.” Phoebe was trying to look disappointed and not being particularly successful. Wouldn’t the Earl wonder why his cousin had that gleam in her eye?
“You have decided to pursue your interest in air flight then?” Aurelia tried to ask the question without letting him hear the breathlessness that was afflicting her.
“Yes,” he said, looking down into her face. “But let us wait till we have reached the library.”
His smile did such strange things to her—made her bones all wishy-washy and set her mind to whirling. Did that mean her partiality for him was growing stronger?
Minutes later she was carefully ensconced on a comfortable divan in front of the fire. The Earl arranged pillows behind her back and under her injured limb until she felt quite pampered—and quite breathless from his proximity.
Ranfield considered his guest. She looked comfortable. So he drew up a rosewood chair and brought her the volume from a nearby table. He wanted to talk. Air flight was interesting. But most of all he wanted to be near her. “This is about the Montgolfier brothers. Do you recommend it?”
She glanced at the title. “Yes, it is quite informational.”
She was such a businesslike little thing. So straightforward. And yet so appealing, so feminine.
“Good,” he said. “Because I mean to build a balloon.”
She stared at him. “You mean to build ... ?”
“Precisely. A balloon.”
Those dark eyes widened. “But ... From a book?”
“Yes. Though actually I was hoping for some help. From you and your family.”
Hoping and praying. He watched her face closely. Surely she would give him some sign of her feelings. A tender little smile, perhaps. But her features showed only surprise.
So he went on. “I calculate your family should be arriving soon. And I want your help in persuading them to stay on for a while.”
Across the room Phoebe developed a sudden fit of coughing. Now what was the chit up to? But he had no time to puzzle over her behavior. He wanted Miss Amesley to stay.
“Will you help me?” he asked.
“They ... They will want to repair our balloon.”
Why did she offer excuses? Didn’t she want to remain? “They can do that here.”
“They will be scheduling more ascensions. You know we can go up only during warm weather.”
He countered that. “I have a capital meadow. Just right for such things.”
“They may need supplies—for repairs.”
“I shall send my men for them.”
She was silent then. Could she think of no more excuses? Did she care about him at all?
Pratt appeared in the doorway. “Visitors, milord. Mr. Arthur Amesley. Mr. Harold Amesley.”
Aurelia sighed and leaned back on her pillows. Actually, she would like to sink right into them and disappear. The events of the past few days had almost driven from her mind the fact that she had made off with the balloon. And that she had caused her uncle and cousin a great deal of trouble. Uncle Arthur had every right to be angry.
“Aurelia, my dear.” He hurried directly to her, his round face creased with worry. “Are you injured badly?”
“No, no, uncle. Really, I am not. I am so sorry for what I did. I cannot tell you why I did it. I just had to go up. I’m so dreadfully sorry to have caused you so much trouble ...”
“Yes.” Uncle Arthur frowned. “We were very worried. We scoured the countryside. But then the Earl’s message came.” He turned. “Thank you for that, milord. It greatly relieved our minds.”
Aurelia admired the ease with which his lordship handled things. “Do sit down,” he said. “You must be tired after your journey.”
Uncle Arthur sank into a chair. “It was fatiguing. But from worry more than anything else. I am relieved to see Aurelia looking so well.”
He sighed and she felt a pang of guilt. To have made him worry so ...
He turned to Ranfield. “The balloon ... What happened to the balloon?”
“There is no cause for alarm there either,” said the Earl. “It suffered a few tears. The gondola was scratched. Not badly.”
“Good. Then we’ll load it up and start back.”
Aurelia’s heart threatened to climb out of her chest. They mustn’t ... They couldn’t ...
The Earl smiled, the smile of one man to another. “You must not think of leaving so soon. Not after such a long journey.”
“But ...”
“Wait, please. I’ve something I want to discuss with you and Harold.”
“Harold? Harold!”
“Yes, Papa?”
“Come here, son. The Earl wants to talk to us.”
Harold crossed the room, reluctantly, his gaze lingering on Phoebe’s flushed face. And Phoebe ...
Aurelia caught her breath. Her new friend looked even more dazed than Harold and was staring after him as though she had seen a dream come to life before her very eyes.
Aurelia shifted her attention back to the Earl. He had to persuade Uncle Arthur to stay. With Phoebe looking at Harold that way it was more imperative than ever.
“So,” the Earl was saying. “I plan to assemble a montgolfière—a hot-air balloon. And I thought perhaps you could stay on and help me with it.
Uncle Arthur looked thoughtful. He rubbed his bald pate.
“You can repair your equipment here,” his lordship continued. “I have quite a nice meadow where we can go up.”
He looked toward her and Aurelia caught her breath.
“It would be a beneficial arrangement for both of us,” he concluded.
Aurelia put her tongue between her teeth. She wanted to overwhelm Uncle Arthur with reasons to stay in Dover. But, considering the trouble she’d caused him already, he wasn’t likely to heed her advice. So she must keep her peace. And anxiously wait.
“Well, Harold?” his lordship asked.
Harold started. “Ah, sorry, Ranny. Wasn’t listening, I’m afraid.”
The Earl smiled. “I asked what you think about staying here for a while?”
“Capital idea!”
Harold beamed. She had never seen him look so happy, except, perhaps, when the new balloon arrived.
He pulled his gaze away from Phoebe again. “That is ... I think that’s a fine arrangement.”
Ranfield smiled. “Good. I’ll ...”
Cousin Prudence chose that moment to bustle in. “Pratt says ...”
“We have some guests,” the Earl interjected. “They’ll be staying on indefinitely.”
Cousin Prudence looked the newcomers over, her eyes steely behind her spectacles. Then she fixed a blistering gaze on Uncle Arthur. “You, sir! Why ever did you let this dear child go up in that Devil’s contrivance? It’s inhuman, it is.”
Uncle Arthur looked stunned, but he rallied quickly and leaped to his feet. “Madame,” he said, the hair around his bald pate bristling. “You accuse me unjustly. First, my niece took off against my express wishes. And second, my balloon is not the Devil’s invention. It is the newest in scientific advancement.”
Cousin Prudence straightened her cap. “Scientific advancement, is it? No one will ever convince me that the good Lord intended for people to fl
y. Look,” she cried, pulling Phoebe toward her and spinning her around. “Do you see any wings growing out of this child?”
Uncle Arthur shook his head. “Of course not. But that signifies nothing.”
“Nothing!” Cousin Prudence’s voice rose sharply. “Well, I never!”
“Cousin,” said the Earl, judging it was time to put period to this discussion. “Perhaps you and Mr. Amesley can continue this disagreement later. Right now I should like to have our guests shown to their rooms.”
Cousin Prudence turned a little redder in the face, but she composed herself. “Of course, milord. This way please.”
The men followed her and Phoebe, casting another of those strange looks at Aurelia, trailed after them.
“So,” he said, crossing the room to the divan and resuming his seat. “That went well enough.”
“Yes, yes it did.”
He raised an eyebrow. Was her voice trembling? “You did not add your arguments to mine. Do you not want to stay?”
“Oh, I ... Actually, milord, I thought it best to remain silent. After taking the balloon as I did ... Well, I didn’t think having me argue the case would be much help.”
Well, at least her understanding was good. He smiled. “Perhaps not. At any rate, I’m glad to have the pleasure of your company for a time longer.”
Did he see a little flicker of warmth in her eyes? Or was she just being polite? It was most infernally annoying, being on tenterhooks like this. With any other female he would have known exactly where he stood. But with her ...
He put on his warmest, most beguiling, smile, the one that had earned him the favors of many London ladies. “Tell me, Miss Amesley. Is there anything I can do to make your stay more pleasant?”
“Yes,” she replied, looking him directly in the eyes. “I have a great desire to go horseback riding. How soon can you arrange it?”
Chapter Seven
It was Tuesday afternoon before the Earl got around to arranging their ride. From her position in his arms, Aurelia looked over the animal that was supposed to advance The Plan.
“Are you sure you want to do this now?” the Earl inquired. “Your ankle ...”
“Milord,” she reminded him. “One rides sitting down.”
“True.”
“And I have such an inclination for a ride, a good rousing gallop.”
The Earl sighed. She could feel it along the whole lean length of him.
“It’s very kind of you to accommodate me like this,” she continued. If he backed out now, The Plan would be ruined.
“Think nothing of it.” He stood her carefully on her good foot. “Because of your injury, I shall help you mount in a different fashion.”
He put a hand on either side of her waist and lifted her quite easily onto the sidesaddle. For a moment she was busy getting her leg properly hooked, gathering up the reins, and trying to recall all that Phoebe had told her about riding.
Finally, she was settled and looked down, only to discover that a horse brought one much higher off the ground than might have been expected. But that didn’t bother her. After all, she had sailed through the heavens in a wicker basket.
She took a deep breath and adjusted the pert little shako hat that Phoebe had perched on her head. The green riding habit fit well enough. Now, if she only knew something about the actual act of riding.
The Earl swung up on his horse—a beautiful black creature, with glistening coat and tossing mane. “All set?”
She nodded. “Yes, let’s go.” She touched the horse with her heel and it went off obediently. Unfortunately, its jiggling gait threatened to bounce her right out of the saddle.
“Miss Amesley,” the Earl called after her. “Please, do not trot just yet.”
“Yes, yes,” she called back over her shoulder. She pulled on the reins and miraculously the animal slowed. Maybe riding was not so difficult after all.
The Earl’s horse moved up beside hers. “I’m most pleased with our work of the last two days,” he said as they rode down the lane toward the meadow.
“Yes, Uncle Arthur is very happy at how the repairs are going.”
The Earl smiled. He had such a pleasant smile. She wished she could be sitting some comfortable place with him, talking aeronautics. “But I still can’t see why you want to build a montgolfière. Hot air is so old-fashioned. “
He laughed. “Cousin Prudence doesn’t think so. She’s convinced we’re going straight to perdition. The whole lot of us. For daring to invade the Good Lord’s heavens.”
Aurelia laughed, too. “Yes, I know. She is continually reciting Scriptures to me. But she means well.”
For a moment they rode in silence. Then the Earl asked, “Do you think Harold means well?”
“Harold? I don’t understand.”
“Harold seems to be dangling after Phoebe. I am concerned about his intentions. After all, Phoebe is under my protection.”
So he had noticed, too. She stalled for time. “What makes you think this?”
The Earl frowned. “For one thing, they are always together.”
“Phoebe is much interested in aeronautics.”
“She is now,” he said dryly.
“Oh, no, milord. She had conceived this interest long before my family arrived. Before I arrived. She told me herself that she longs to go aloft. But her mama will never permit it.”
The Earl’s eyes gleamed with laughter. “I should say not.” He gave her what should have been a stern look if his eyes had not spoiled it. “Let us hope that the story of your escapade doesn’t give her ideas in that line.”
“Ideas? Oh dear.” Laughter bubbled from her and she clapped a hand to her mouth. And, of course, the animal she was riding chose that precise moment to leap forward and take off at a gallop.
Unfortunately, a good run was not nearly as pleasant as Phoebe had described it. To be bouncing up and down and sideways was most disconcerting. The horse paid no heed to her efforts to slow it down. It just ran, faster and faster.
“Aurelia!” the Earl called after her. “Miss Amesley, stop?”
“I cannot! Help!”
Sawing at the reins, she perceived that she was telling the awful truth. The horse had the bit between its teeth and was running for dear life.
Woodland and meadow passed in a whirlwind of confused images—a hassock of turf that almost unseated her, a low hanging branch she ducked to avoid, and, in the distance, a winding ribbon of stream.
The pounding of her horse’s hooves almost drowned out her own labored breathing. She could not turn her head to see if he were coming. She could barely keep her seat.
The stream was getting closer—and wider. Surely it would stop the horse. But then, just as she expected the horse to slow, she felt it gather itself to jump.
“No-o-o-o-o!”
There was one long timeless moment when her body left the saddle. And then she was lying in the stream, making curious noises while she fought to pull air into her lungs.
The shako hat, which had fallen over her eyes, obscured her vision, but as her labored breathing slowed, she could hear the pounding of coming hooves.
She pushed herself to a sitting position and tugged off the offending hat. Her hair came down, spilling over her shoulders and dripping down her face. She pushed at it impatiently.
Cold water was running over her lap and she couldn’t even get up to escape it. Her ankle was still too weak for tramping about the rocky bottoms of streams. She shifted. And this bottom was very rocky.
Ranfield pulled his mare to a halt. She appeared uninjured. Thank God! Sitting there in the middle of the stream, she made quite a sight. He felt the laughter rising in him, but he shoved it back down. A gentleman should not laugh at a lady in distress.
He dismounted. “Miss Amesley, are you hurt?”
“I think not.” She threw a strand of wet hair out of her eyes. “But I cannot stand. I’m most dreadfully sorry, milord. But I fear I cannot get up without help.”
She looked so contrite, sitting there. So innocent. And, strangely enough, sodden and rumpled, she looked beautiful. But where on earth had she learned to ride in that atrocious fashion?
He spared one regretful glance for his shining Wellingtons and then he stepped into the water. “I’ll have you out in a minute.” Wet as she was, he managed to lift her. But her habit was waterlogged and the stream bottom uneven. Halfway to shore his boot heel turned on a pebble. There was a brief moment of panic. And there he was—sitting in the stream with a sodden Miss Amesley in his lap.
A giggle escaped her. She buried her face in his waistcoat. Trying to contain it, no doubt. And he fumed his jaw.
But it was no use. Laughter overcame them both. And they sat there, in the middle of the stream, clutching each other, and laughed till they cried.
“I’m sorry,” she said, finally, when she could speak again. “But the expression on your face ...”
“No apologies are necessary.” He was loathe to get up. He liked having her there in his lap, water and all. But he had to be sensible. And he certainly didn’t want her to take a chill.
Gently he set her aside and heaved himself to his feet. His coat hung about him, a sodden mass. Water ran from his breeches in rivulets, and inside his boots it squelched between his toes.
He offered her his hand. “No apologies,” he repeated. “But perhaps you had better walk out. Lean on me.”
“Yes. Of course.”
She bit her lip as though about to burst into laughter again. He must look quite a sight. What a rare woman she was. Scatterbrained, surely the most horrible horsewoman in all of England. But also the most entertaining.
He smiled to himself. He knew no woman of the ton who would laugh in such a situation. Any of them would have cursed the horse and him—indiscriminately.
They made the bank safely, though not without a few giggles and coughs. She smiled up at him, those great dark eyes still gleaming with laughter.
“Thank you, milord. You’re most kind.” She looked down at his feet. “I’m dreadfully afraid I’ve ruined your boots and ...” A shiver overtook her.
He wanted to wrap her in his arms to warm her. Instead he led her to the horses. “Let me help you mount. We must get you home and out of these wet things.”
A Heart in Flight Page 6
