by Diana Quincy
They walked toward Anna.
“I find I would not have minded it too terribly,” he said absently.
“Minded what?”
“If the girl had been mine,” he said. “She is charming. Darling is fortunate to have her.”
Astonishment halted Mari in her tracks. Cosmo walked on ahead to join the child. Reaching her, he dropped to his knees and sat back on his heels. Taking the large shell from Anna, he put it to his ear, saying something in an animated fashion clearly designed to entertain her.
It worked. Like all females, Anna appeared entranced by Cosmo’s effortless charisma. Giggling, the child watched with wide eyes, twirling a strand of windswept honey-colored hair around a pudgy, sand-dusted finger.
Chapter Fourteen
The following day, Cosmo, Aldridge, and Darling exited the house with Anna running excitedly out in front of them. Cosmo watched with amusement as Anna screeched to a halt by the stable, turning toward him with a wide-eyed look.
“Is that for me, Uncle Cosmo?”
A dappled gray pony, whose appearance he’d arranged at Aldridge’s request, stood in the paddock with its firm musculature twitching. The animal was already saddled, and a groom held its head. “Yes. It is a gift from Uncle Lord Aldridge.”
She beamed at the marquess, who appeared quite pleased with himself. “Thank you, Lord Aldridge.”
“It is my pleasure, Anna.”
As if belatedly remembering her manners, she turned to Darling. “May I accept it, uncle?”
“It is too generous.”
“Nonsense,” Aldridge intoned, the sharp lines of his profile set in the way of a man used to having his wishes followed. “Anna is already like a grandchild to me, Darling. Do not deny me the pleasure of spoiling her.”
The child fidgeted, bouncing back and forth on both feet. “Please, uncle. Please.” She drew out the last word with a child’s urgency.
“Very well.” Darling relented with a resigned smile. “It is not as though I could stand against you, Lord Aldridge, and Cosmo all at the same time.”
With a whoop, Anna twirled around and ran out to see her pony, with Darling and Aldridge following. Cosmo glanced at the barn, where Mari worked on the smallest gondola he’d ever seen. Wondering what it could be for, he wandered over to her. “Whatever is that?”
“A boat,” she murmured, still focused on her work. She knelt by the basket in slim-fitting buff breeches and a white linen shirt, her usual work uniform, which never failed to delight his baser instincts.
“I can see that. Why is it so small?”
“I’m going to experiment with attaching a balloon to it.”
“You are going to go up in that?” Disbelief throbbed through him. “It is no bigger than a chair. You could topple right out!”
“It requires less hydrogen than a larger balloon. Maxim is a showman. He is keen to try it.” She looked up with a wry grin, a dark spiral of hair falling across one eye. “Our first showing in London must be memorable.”
“So let Maxim do it.”
“He is too heavy.”
Dread trickled down his spine at the thought of her being hurt. “As though the regular gondola is not enough of a death trap. You cannot do this.”
Brushing the errant strand of hair away from her face, she paused, the symphony of color in her eyes glinting in the sun. “I can and I shall.” The words were firm. “This is my work, Cosmo, and you have no say in it.”
An urgent desire to keep her safe pumped through him, yet he could do nothing to stop her. “You are the most obstinate woman.” He bristled at being helpless to protect her. “It is a good thing you plan to never marry. You would give any husband a heart seizure.”
“No doubt. On that, we agree.”
Anna’s delighted laughter rang out, drawing their attention. The child sat on her pony’s back while a groom led her around the paddock. “Do you buy horseflesh for all females of your acquaintance?” Mari asked.
“Aldridge secured the pony for Anna,” he answered, watching as the groom let the animal go. Obviously proficient at riding, the child urged the animal on. “He is growing very fond of her.”
“As you appear to be.”
He gazed at Anna as she posted around the paddock on her pony, warmth both filling and squeezing his chest. “She is enchanting.” When Mari paused, regarding him with her vivid gaze, he said, “Don’t look at me like that. I know what you are thinking.”
“Oh?”
“Just because I am fond of the child doesn’t mean I am her sire.”
“It is also the way you look at her.”
“And how is that?”
“With an openness I’ve never seen on your face before, absent of all cynicism.” She spoke slowly, weighing her words. “It is honest and pure.”
The words pricked something in his heart. He snorted to cover the emotion. “Please. As you very well know, there is nothing pure about me, Mademoiselle Lamarre.”
“Uncle Cosmo, Uncle Cosmo!” Anna called, a bit petulant, from atop her pony. “You must watch me.”
“Coming, Anna,” he called back, quirking a smile at Mari. “Like most females, she doesn’t like to be ignored. I think Anna is a bit jealous of the attention I pay to you.”
“Hmmm, she certainly has no reason to be,” Mari said absently, returning her attention to the death-trap gondola, leaving Cosmo to wonder exactly what she meant.
Since Aldridge had demanded that no fuss be made over his birthday, only a handful of people were invited to a luncheon marking the occasion. In addition to Darling, the marquess’s physician attended with his wife, Mrs. Hodges, along with Vicar Payne and his wife, and Rosie Chalcroft. As usual, the M brothers declined to make an appearance at a formal meal, yet Cosmo felt certain Mrs. Godfrey would see to it they were well fed.
Given the fine weather, a long, elegantly arranged table had been set out on the front lawn. Daily hires from the village helped serve an abundance of Aldridge’s favorite foods, beginning with partridge soup and followed by buttered shrimp, boiled turbot, and roast beef. Vicar Payne, a man as stout as he was devout, dug into his beef, while chatting with the marquess, who, as always, maintained a polite countenance.
“His lordship appears to be enjoying the party,” Rosie said from her seat next to Cosmo. “It was good of you to arrange it. Well done.”
Relaxing against the back of his chair, Cosmo said, “I had no hand in it. Godfrey arranged everything.”
“She could not have issued the invitations.”
“The old woman told me whom to invite, a mere formality, that. Sometimes I do wonder who is master and who is servant, given that I always seem do her bidding.”
“It probably helps that she’s known you since you were in apron strings.”
“No doubt.” Sipping the sweet apricot wine, Cosmo’s gaze slid to Darling, who was engaging Mari in what appeared to be an intense conversation. Darling sat to Aldridge’s right, in a place of honor, which reflected both his rank and close personal relationship with the Dunsmore family. Mari sat on Darling’s opposite side, resplendent in a gown the color of pale sunshine. With its high, ruffled neckline, the style was both more demure and more frivolous than her usual attire. She’d topped her ensemble with a straw bonnet embellished with an enormous ribbon cockade the same shade as her gown; a concoction of yellow and blue silk flowers added additional flourish. It all struck him as rather fanciful for someone as sensible as Mari. He’d become accustomed to the simple clothing she used for work, but then again he’d never seen her at a social occasion in polite company before today.
“Lovely girl, your Mademoiselle Lamarre,” Rosie said.
“She is not my Mademoiselle Lamarre. Aldridge invited her here, not I.”
“She is most amiable.”
“Amiable?” His prickly parachutist? “Are you certain we speak of the same person?”
“Yes, she is exceedingly pleasant. She inquired about Elinor.”
&nbs
p; Hiding his surprise, he paused to take a leisurely drink of his wine. The parachutist seldom did anything without a reason. “I wonder what interest she could have in Ellie.”
“She thinks they might have had friends in common in Paris.”
He didn’t believe that for a moment. “What else have the two of you discussed?”
“Her work, my work. Her betrothed.”
His heart stumbled. “Her betrothed?” Disbelief shot through him. “What betrothed?”
“Pascal something or another.”
“Mari is betrothed?”
Rosie’s inquisitive eyes fastened on him. “Mari, is it?”
“Yes,” he said, anxious to learn more about Mari and this other man, a potential husband. “She told you she is promised to this Pascal fellow?”
Her soft brown eyes honed in on him. “You refer to Miss Lamarre by her Christian name?”
“Who is he?” Cosmo demanded. “She says she will never marry.”
Interest glimmered in her too-astute gaze. “You’ve discussed marriage with her.”
Ballocks. He’d managed to draw Rosie’s interest squarely, and uncomfortably, to himself.
“No need to dissemble,” she continued. “I’ve suspected for a while now that you and Miss Lamarre have become…close.”
“Why would you think that?” he responded in a bland voice before taking a gulp of the too-sweet wine.
“You did purchase horseflesh for her. A gentleman does not bestow a gift of that size without having some depth feeling.”
Mari rescued him from Rosie’s interrogation by rising to her feet with an announcement. “My lord,” she said to Aldridge. “To show our appreciation for your hospitality, my brothers and I have a gift we should like to present to you.”
Aldridge regarded her with surprised delight. “That is most kind of you, Mademoiselle Lamarre, but unnecessary.”
She smiled warmly. “But of course it is our pleasure. If you will come with me.”
The guests all rose to follow the parachutist and Marcel toward the barn, with some of the servants following behind. As they rounded the back of the structure, a striped, deep-red-and-green hot air balloon came into view. Cosmo noticed it was much smaller than the one he’d ridden in and immediately realized why; the balloon was attached to the death-trap gondola Mari had been working with yesterday, the one barely larger than a chair. He sucked in a furious breath, understanding what Mari intended before she announced it.
Excitement glowed in her radiant eyes. “My lord, in honor of your birthday, we’ve arranged this private exhibition.”
Murmurs of anticipation rippled through the small crowd, which grew in number as more servants and estate workers came to watch. Aldridge’s face brightened. “You honor me, mademoiselle.”
She stepped into the gondola and suddenly the reason she’d dressed like a bedazzled banana fell into place. Like the draped gondola and colorful balloon, her flouncy yellow gown and its matching abomination of a bonnet with all of those fripperies crowded atop it were part of the extravaganza the public demanded. As if the sight of a woman risking her life wasn’t spectacle enough.
“You cannot possibly think to go up in that.” He struggled to keep his voice even, despite the pull of anxiety in his gut. “It’s barely bigger than a picnic basket.”
“Perhaps Cosmo has the right of it, Miss Lamarre.” Aldridge frowned as he ran his gaze over the gondola. “I won’t have you exposing yourself to unnecessary danger.”
Fixing Cosmo with a quelling look, Mari turned to his father. “I assure you, I would not risk myself, and it is solely a balloon ascent, as I will not be parachuting today.”
Aldridge’s face relaxed. “If you are certain.”
“I am,” she said in a firm voice, shooting another dark look at Cosmo, as if daring him to object.
Despite his struggle to contain his fury, Cosmo forced a relaxed posture, knowing he had no right to intercede; she was neither his wife nor his betrothed. The parachutist had brothers to act as her protectors, although they did a poor job of it. And, if Rosie was to be believed, she also had a betrothed stashed somewhere who should be looking after her. Apparently, Cosmo was nothing but the latest in Mari’s string of paramours.
Standing proud in the gondola, gripping one of the cables securing the balloon to the basket, she looked like a sky warrior ready to take flight. Marcel and Maxim reached over and tossed out the sand-filled ballasts. Gradually, the basket lifted off the ground. Palpable excitement swept the spectators when the balloon lurched upward and began to take flight. Appearing strong and confident, her spine straight, Mari gave a farewell wave and continued her ascent.
Dread suffocated Cosmo as he watched her drift upward, away from him and the safe confines of earth. A breeze blew in, nudging the slight basket and balloon off course, slanting her in the direction of the trees. His nerves stretched to the snapping point when the balloon brushed against the branches before continuing its unsteady upward climb. Blue discharges, unlike anything he’d seen before, formed a partial halo around the balloon.
None of it looked right. A glance in the Ms’ direction confirmed his fears. Maxim and Marcel wore identical grave expressions. Color had leached out of Maxim’s face. His heart pounding, Cosmo shifted his gaze back to Mari. Whatever the problem, she was on her own now, just as Elinor had been when she had died alone in Paris.
He shoved the thought from his mind and focused on Mari. At least the balloon cleared the trees. It disappeared behind a cloud and reappeared a moment later, this time with a red-gold halo around it instead of the blue. At first he thought it was an effect of the sun, but then the halo flickered and smoked. It took his mind a moment to comprehend what his eyes saw.
Up among the clouds, Mari’s balloon was on fire.
Chapter Fifteen
“Fireworks!” The vicar’s wife clapped her hands with delight, obviously thinking the flames were part of the entertainment.
Mari’s balloon began a rapid descent, spiraling downward like a bird hit by a hunter. Cosmo’s heart contracted. The one time he’d have welcomed her detaching from a hot air balloon, she didn’t have a parachute with her.
A hush fell over the spectators, who’d begun to grasp that the fire was not a part of the spectacle.
Aldridge gazed skyward, ashen faced. “Lord, help her.”
Cosmo sprinted to Marcel and grabbed him hard by the arm, spinning him around. “Can’t you do something? She’s going to crash!”
His eyes locked on the balloon, Marcel shrugged Cosmo’s hand off. “She retains sufficient lift to prevent that.”
“What can we do?” Cosmo asked urgently.
Maxim’s calm voice penetrated Cosmo’s panic. “There is nothing we can do. The fate of the flight is in Mari’s hands now.”
“She is an excellent balloonist.” Fists on his hips, Marcel stared upward at the blazing, plummeting balloon. “Mari can land it before she runs out of hydrogen.”
Cosmo didn’t see how. First Elinor and now Mari. Horror iced his blood at the thought of losing another woman he loved.
Love?
His mind stuttered over the realization. He loved Mari. Desperately. Despite everything—her spying, her lying, her determination to ruin his father. Yet, just as with Elinor, he could do nothing to save her.
Fortunately, she seemed intent on rescuing herself. Mari threw ballasts out of the gondola, lightening her load to slow her descent. She moved quickly and with purpose, displaying no signs of panic. Despite his encroaching anguish, pride throbbed through Cosmo at her cool composure, her admirable display of courage even as she hurtled toward probable disaster.
Another gust of wind swept the flaming, plunging balloon away from the horrified crowd and toward the barn, leaving a trail of billowing, black and gray smoke.
His heart beating hard against his ribs, Cosmo sprinted toward where he thought she would come down. Marcel and Maxim followed as she came to a slamming stop somewhere atop
the barn, a crash landing that Cosmo heard but couldn’t see.
“Mari! Mari!” he bellowed, running toward the barn. As he rounded the corner, something tumbled off the roof and hit the ground with a sickening thud. His heart stopped. Then he saw it was the gondola. “Mari! Where are you?”
“Must you be so loud?” Her perfectly alive voice reverberated through him.
“Are you well?” he called up to the roof.
“I am uninjured, but a bit tied up, I’m afraid.”
Marcel appeared beside Cosmo, breathing heavily. “What do you mean?”
“I am trapped in the balloon netting.”
Cosmo dashed inside the barn and scrambled up the ladder to the loft. From the window, he hoisted himself up onto the roof. She was trapped in the black netting and cables, the skirt of her yellow gown twisted up around her thighs, baring a tempting expanse of smooth, contoured limbs. Her dark hair was loose and streaming about her shoulders. Relief swamped him, leaving his limbs weak and shaky.
She frowned. “What are you doing just standing there?”
He smiled. “Enjoying the view.”
“Well, stop that,” she snapped, the greens and ambers in her mercurial eyes flashing as she struggled to untangle herself.
“If you insist.” He started toward her.
“Halt,” she cried, alarm filling her voice.
He froze. “What is it?”
“Get off the roof. The last thing I need to concern myself with is you falling. Marcel and Maxim can assist me.”
“You’re worried about me? Did you bump your head when you crashed into the barn? You are the one in danger of falling.”
“I am not the one who is afraid of heights.”
He started inching toward her again. “Don’t be absurd. I do not have a fear of heights.”
She cast a narrow-eyed, sidelong glance at him. “What? You said you did.”
