He was speechless, dismayed that he was very nearly tempted, despite all that he knew of her. Removing her hands from his lapels, he stepped back. Finally, he spoke, “You must go back to the ball. You are celebrating your betrothal tonight!”
“You would have me marry Lord Sutton when it is you I love?”
“You should have given your supposed devotion a thought before you became engaged,” he said. “You must leave.”
“You will think about it, though?” Her blue eyes were soft with pleading.
“My feelings for you are in the past. Now go, before someone finds you here.”
“You are so cold, Tony. It was not always thus. Can you not forgive me?”
“I do not wish to speak of this a moment longer. If you will not leave, then I will. It would be the worst thing for your reputation to be found here alone with me.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, and then she was gone, the fragrance of lilies remaining. Sitting on the edge of a planter, he put a hand to his head as he tried to absorb what had happened.
He once again relived the devastating moment he had seen the announcement of her betrothal in The Morning Post last month. He had fled to his estate in Kent. For two weeks he had exercised his mind and body to deal with the chaos of his emotions. It had been like trying to rein in a stallion at full gallop.
It was such an unthinkable action on Pamela’s part that, at first, he had blamed her parents and the pressure of the ton. But eventually he had to wonder why she hadn’t cared enough even to warn him, to say goodbye, to end things in person.
He had been mistaken in Pamela. Her actions spoke of a cold heart. During the last month, he had deconstructed their relationship in his mind, seeing how he had been misled by her frenetic good spirits, her supposed interest in bettering their world, and most of all her false affection for him. Telling himself that her present intentions might contradict his conclusion, he went over the facts again and tried to be reasonable.
No. Tony was not going to allow himself to be carried away by his feelings a second time. Into his mind came the memory of Miss Livingstone facing off against the brute who had abused Mr. Hale. Her actions were leagues from anything Pamela would ever attempt. He saw now that Pamela had never been concerned with anything that did not increase her own consequence. How had he ever thought he loved her?
And Miss Livingstone? How had he ever agreed to Beau’s entreaty? He was in the devil of a position, that was for certain.
Chapter Six
On Saturday, Viscount Strangeways’s barouche carried the Honorable George, Virginia, and Lady Ogletree to Green Park for the balloon ascension. Virginia wore a plain jade-green muslin with a single flounce and no trimmings. She was beginning to think her aunt’s unwillingness to take her to the dressmaker part of a scheme to make her unattractive to the ton.
Deciding she would not fret about her appearance, Virginia focused outside the window. After so much forced association with the Honorable George, she was very happy to be in the viscount’s company. “Oh, look how fine the weather is! We couldn’t have asked for a nicer day. There is only a slight breeze.”
Viscount Strangeways said, “It is perfect weather for our purposes. At least it is at this moment. England’s weather can change in a trice. What is the weather like where you are from?”
“Very different. It is miserably hot and humid in the summertime. And when we have storms, they are violent. But it does not rain there nearly as much as it does here.”
As they approached the park, Virginia’s heart took delight in the sight of the three enormous balloons in bright colors tethered to the ground by strong ropes.
“Which one is yours, Lord Strangeways?” she asked.
“The one with the Union Jack. The elaborate rainbow-colored one is the duke’s. Lord Freddie Saxby has the purple-and-green. They should almost be finished inflating.”
She quailed a bit at the news of Lord Freddie’s presence. No sooner had they arrived and descended from the barouche than he spotted her and raised his hat.
Just as though he had never had any evil intentions toward me!
Standing next to Lord Freddie was a well-built man she recognized as the Duke of Ruisdell, his wife on his arm.
A short distance away sat two large tables set with a display of tea urns, plates of scones, and small pots of jam. Behind them stood Miss Braithwaite, Lady Clarice, and several other ladies Virginia had not yet met. Dotted about the lawn was a collection of small round tables where well-dressed members of society took their refreshments.
Virginia and her aunt headed that way, though her secret inclination was to join the men who surrounded the balloons to ask questions about the ascent. What kept the balloons aloft? They were enormous. Far bigger than she had imagined. How did they fly? How did they land?
The Honorable George strode off to meet the men, and Virginia envied him the chance to make the ascent in one of the balloons. Surely it would be marvelous to be up in the breeze, flying above London!
“Come, Virginia,” her aunt said. “Our place is behind that table. Ladies do not fly.” She sounded like she had tasted a sour pickle.
Lady Clarice gave both of them a warm welcome and set them to dispensing tea for all the people who were beginning to stream in to watch the excitement. Virginia thought the refreshments a very good idea on someone’s part. There were many people out this morning, turning the ascension into a festivity.
Her eyes did not stray long from the tall figure of the viscount. He appeared to be engaged with a barrel and a large hose connected to the balloon. A few minutes later, an extraordinarily beautiful woman in a gold-velvet pelisse approached him. His brow creased in what looked like annoyance. He turned back to his work, and eventually she went away. Virginia did not miss the fact that as soon as the beauty stepped away, the viscount’s eyes followed her.
Who was she, and what did she mean to Lord Strangeways?
The day dimmed a little, but soon Virginia saw Miss Arabella Saunders approaching and she put the scene out of her mind. Beside Miss Saunders were a man and woman she hadn’t met before.
“Oh! Miss Livingstone!” Miss Saunders exclaimed. “I am so happy to see you here. Is this not thrilling? Do you not wish you could go up in one of the balloons?” The man with her gave her a little nudge. “Oh! Pardon me, I would like so much to introduce you to my brother, Viscount Beau Wellingham, and his wife, Lady Penelope Wellingham. They have been so anxious to meet you. Beau, Penny, this is my new friend Miss Livingstone.”
“It is very nice to meet you,” said Virginia. She watched Lord Wellingham assess her with the uncommon interest of a man choosing a horse. His wife, however, sent her a warm look.
“It is lovely to meet you, Miss Livingstone,” she said.
“Would any of you like some tea? It is tuppence—to benefit Literacy for the Poor.”
“A very good cause,” said Lady Wellingham.
Virginia began to be unnerved by Lord Wellingham’s steady regard. Why was he looking at her so? There was no admiration in his glance, and his wife’s lips thinned as she noticed it.
“Oh, and you have scones as well,” Lady Wellingham said. “Beau, I should like a scone and some jam, if you please.”
Lord Wellingham came out of his reverie. “Very good, my dear. You shall have it. How much for the scones?”
“Thruppence,” said Virginia. “What would you like, Miss Saunders?”
Seemingly oblivious to her question to his sister, Arabella’s brother asked, “How are you enjoying our London Season?”
“It is very different from what I am used to,” answered Virginia. “But today will be fun, I think.”
His sister said, “I should just like a scone and some jam, please—no tea.”
“And you, Lord Wellingham?”
“Nothing for me, thank you,” he answered shortly as he continued to study her. He put several coins on the table. “Here’s for my wife and sister and a donation to the caus
e.”
“I understand you are a great reader,” said Lady Wellingham.
“I am,” said Virginia. “Hatchard’s is my idea of heaven.”
“And Gunter’s, of course,” said Miss Saunders.
“By all means, Gunter’s,” Virginia agreed with a laugh.
The little group made way for others who were waiting to be served. A few moments later, after handing a tall cadaverous man his tea, Virginia felt herself under observation. Lord Wellingham again?
No. There. Not far away, a man dressed in subdued browns was regarding her steadily. He was not in any way noteworthy. The reason he stood out was only because he was staring at her. For a reason she could not explain, he made the hair stand up on her arms and the back of her neck. Looking away, she thought him to be more than simply ill-mannered.
When she saw that he was still at it as she served the next gentleman, she began to realize that he wanted her to take notice of him, wanted her to feel uncomfortable.
“Lady Clarice, do you know the man in brown over there? The one who is staring at me?” she asked in an undertone.
The man turned his back and walked away before her friend could recognize him.
“Never mind,” Virginia said. “He is going.”
She watched the man make his way to the park gates, away from the frivolity. A patron asked for tea, and Virginia put the rude man out of her mind. After all, he couldn’t do her harm when she was surrounded by this great crowd.
The duchess approached her, dressed in a midnight-blue velvet ensemble that resembled a riding habit.
“Good morning, Your Grace!”
“Oh, good morning, Miss Livingstone. It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Do you go up in the balloon?” Virginia asked the duchess.
“Of course! It is the most exhilarating thing. You cannot imagine.”
“I should like to try myself,” Virginia said wistfully.
“You would? Really?” asked the duchess.
“Yes. I must confess I like a thrill now and then!”
“You do not mind that there is a bit of danger involved?”
Virginia felt a shiver of anticipation run through her. Leaning toward the duchess, she said, “I find physical danger most stimulating, though I suppose here in England, a lady must never admit that.”
The duchess’s eyes twinkled. “You are right. But your secret is safe with me.”
Her husband had finished a conversation and wandered over to his wife and Virginia. “Miss Livingstone! You have come to watch our balloon race?”
“Is it a race, then?”
“Decidedly,” he said, his eyes sparkling with good humor.
“Can you tell me how the balloons work? What keeps them aloft? How do you get down?” Virginia asked.
“It’s hydrogen that makes them rise. Lighter than air, you see.” He indicated the steel drums she had noticed. “We make the gas by pouring sulfuric acid over iron filings in those drums, and then it is piped into the balloons with those hoses. When we loosen the ropes, we rise. When we open a valve on the balloon, the hydrogen leaks out, and we descend. That is the simplified explanation.”
“Miss Livingstone is finding London a trifle dull, I think,” the duchess told him. “Have we room for another passenger?”
“Miss Sukey has just secured our last place. This is one of my smaller balloons. I dare not take more than three people,” said the duke, “but let me see if one of the others has room.”
He made his way over to Viscount Strangeways. Virginia could not hear their discussion, but she saw the duke move away toward another group.
The viscount strode over to her, smiling his crooked smile. “Miss Livingstone, you have decided you wish to fly today?”
“It is not every day one has such an opportunity,” she said, her face as straight as though he had asked her if she liked the weather.
Laughing, he said, “I am sorry I cannot take you up with me. With the addition of young Tisdale, my gondola is full. My brother, Howie, flies with me as well.”
Just then Lord Freddie joined them. “I have room for one more, Miss Livingstone, if you would care to come with me. I would be honored.”
Knowing he had wished her ill at the ball should have kept her from accepting his invitation. However, her desire for this new experience was so strong, she was willing to put his past behavior behind her and accept. Besides, they wouldn’t be alone.
“It is bound to be cold once we are aloft. Have you a cloak?” he asked.
Lady Clarice, who had followed the conversation, said, “You will swim in it, my dear, but I have one you may borrow. It was a bit nippy when I got here earlier.” She handed her a serviceable black wool with a fur collar. “I envy you, Miss Livingstone. I wish I had the courage.”
“Thank you so much,” Virginia said. “I will take the best care of your cloak.”
Lord Freddie was a large man with florid features and a heavy bonhomie. He put her arm through his and walked her over to his balloon. The silk towered above them in a cloud of purple, green, and white swaying in the breeze.
“How far will we fly? How will we get back?” she asked Lord Freddie.
“The prevailing southeasterly winds usually take us down to Kent—about thirty miles or so. Carriages will follow as closely as they can, though they have to take land routes. It may take them a while to catch up. Sometimes we can find a friendly farmer with a cart to spare.”
“It sounds very hit-or-miss,” she said, doubting her intention for the first time.
“You do not need to worry, my dear. I have never had a single misadventure.”
He spent the next few minutes on a final inspection and then helped her through the little door into the gondola that was to hold them. Exhilaration and a tiny bit of fear mingled in her breast. “Who goes with us?” she asked.
“Sir Bertie. He is late, however.”
“Don’t you need another man to help you?” she asked with a qualm.
“That would be the ideal, but we cannot wait for him if he does not show up on time. This is a race.”
“I would think safety would be your first priority,” Virginia objected.
“Never mind. There he is,” he assured her. “What ho! Bertie.” He waved. “Miss Livingstone has joined us!”
A tall, fashionable man dressed all in black, excepting his white shirt and stock, climbed up into the gondola. “Sorry I was late,” he said. “Miss Livingstone, is it? Friend of Tony Strangeways. Have been wanting to meet you. Sir Herbert Backman, at your service. Everyone calls me Bertie.” He gave her a short bow. “Must say, you are very brave!”
She gave him her hand, smiling at him. “Women can be brave, as well as men,” she said. He had the same air of capable gentility that she felt with Lord Strangeways, and Virginia began to feel comfortable again.
“Now we just wait for the gunshot to signal the beginning of the race,” said Lord Freddie. “Then we’ll cast off.”
The gunshot a few moments later made Virginia jump. She watched as three unfamiliar men untied the ropes that were holding down the fully inflated balloon. Slowly, the whole contrivance ascended.
Virginia looked over the edge of the gondola as they climbed, feeling a teasing flame of fear as the familiar ground fell away. She mastered it with a gulp as they soared higher, above the trees. The landscape began to look like a map with toy figures and buildings.
She, Virginia Livingstone, was flying above the earth! It was akin to, but much more thrilling than, the first time she had ridden a horse. Exhilaration overtook her, and she began to laugh. “This is magnificent! How I wish my father could be with me today!”
As they sailed over London, she watched the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral and the River Thames recede from view. They left London behind and were soon flying over fields dotted with sheep.
This was the most wonderful thing to happen to her since before fire had destroyed her life in America. She had heard vaguely of
balloon voyages but had dismissed them as fantastic. This was far more exhilarating than a steeple chase! Was there ever such a feeling?
She spoke to Sir Herbert. “Have you been up often?”
“Only my second time,” the man said. “Enjoy the different perspective it gives one.”
“Yes,” she said. “There are hundreds of people down there, going about lives we haven’t any idea of. It is humbling but also empowering, if that makes any sense. Do you suppose the balloon will ever replace the horse as a means of travel?”
“Perhaps someday,” said Sir Bertie. “But a way must be found to make it more dependable in direction and landing.”
Lord Freddie put an arm around her waist. Annoyed, Virginia tried to move away, but there was nowhere to step in the small basketlike gondola. Turning away from him, she asked Sir Bertie the first thing that crossed her mind.
“Have you been friends with Viscount Strangeways for a long time?”
“Since Eton,” he replied. “Shared digs. Man is a dashed fine cricketer.”
“I know nothing about cricket,” she said.
Sir Herbert and Lord Freddie tried to explain the game to her without success. After what must have been half an hour, a sudden gust of wind tossed the balloon forward, and the gondola swung in the air. Virginia could only clutch at the edge of the structure.
“Where are we?” she asked.
Sir Bertie looked with some concern at the horizon behind them. “I believe we are still over Kent. But there is a cloudburst chasing us.”
“Oh!” Virginia looked over her shoulder. A cloud that would not have concerned her on the ground was now riding the wind current that carried them.
“Can we not avoid it somehow?” she asked Lord Freddie as the strong wind tore at her bonnet.
He grinned at her. “Part of the fun! There is no way to steer the balloon. We take what comes along.”
“I say, Freddie,” said Lord Herbert. “We can’t afford to get caught in lightning. The hydrogen will explode. Better put her down.”
Virginia felt her well-being slip away just as thunder cracked in the middle distance. She bit her bottom lip. Lord Freddie tightened the arm about her waist. “We shall not be struck, I promise.”
His Mysterious Lady, A Regency Romance (Three Gentlemen of London Book 2) Page 6
