A Heart in Flight (12 page)

Uncle Arthur frowned. “I know, I said you could go up. But not alone.”

“But she won’t be alone.”

She had not seen the Earl come round the carriage, but there he stood. “I’m sure Miss Amesley knows everything there is to know about ballooning.”

She held her breath. She wanted this so much ... to have him beside her up there.

“Really, sir,” he went on. “Miss Amesley strikes me as a most sensible young woman. And you have surely taught her everything she needs to know.”

He smiled. How, Aurelia wondered, could the same smile have such different effects on people? Surely it didn’t make Uncle Arthur go weak in the knees or start
his
heart to palpitating.

That thought made her swallow a smile. She much doubted if anything except ballooning had ever made Uncle Arthur’s heart beat harder.

But, however different the smile’s effect, it did its work. Uncle Arthur rubbed his pate once more and said, “Well, I suppose that would be all right. Next time. After all, Aurelia’s as smart as they come.”

This unexpected compliment nearly numbed her. Imagine Uncle Arthur saying a thing like that!

The Earl extended his hand to her. His eyes were sparkling, almost as though he knew how pleased she was feeling. “May I help you down?”

Minutes later, she and Harold were standing in the gondola.

“A short flight now,” Uncle Arthur said. “There’s plenty of straw for the brazier, but I don’t want you to go flying away.”

He directed a look at Aurelia that made her want to lower her head. Instead she nodded. “I understand, Uncle. We shall be very careful.”

“Good. Then cast off.”

The lines fell away. Aurelia, sending a last look at the Earl, saw him frowning. Now what was wrong? She sighed. Any number of things could be bothering him. She could only hope that this one didn’t have to do with her—or with ballooning.

In truth, Ranfield was giving himself a good scold. The very idea of an Earl becoming enamored of a female aeronaut! He must have bats in his attic.

His father would be whirling in his grave. And Mama ... Ranfield’s frown turned into a smile. Mama would have asked about his feelings. Mama always got down to the important things.

“Oh,” said Phoebe, from her place beside him. “Flying looks so wonderful. And Aurelia ...”

He turned to his cousin. “You like Aurelia, don’t you, Phoebe?”

She stared at him. “Like her? Oh, I do indeed. I wish, I wish she were my sister. I wish the Amesleys need never ever leave here.”

“I see.” He was a little taken back by her vehemence. But then, she obviously had a
tendre
for Harold.

She was gazing at him so intently, almost as though she expected him to make a comment. Or to reassure her that the Amesleys would stay on. But he curbed his tongue. As close as Phoebe was to Aurelia, he dared not say what he was thinking.

So he turned his gaze skyward again—and immediately wished he hadn’t. The balloon was going higher and higher. He watched it become smaller and smaller. And found himself gritting his teeth.

Why did he have to feel as he did about Aurelia Amesley? Why, in all his years on the town, hadn’t he been taken by a sweet young thing, suitably blooded and educated, reared to be an Earl’s wife?

Because, said a mocking voice that sounded remarkably like his own, such a woman was dreadfully boring. Often empty-headed and, oftener still, entirely lacking in any redeeming values, except perhaps, innocence.

And if innocence were to be a criterion, Aurelia Amesley would score as high as any. The truth was that Aurelia scored high in all the qualities he found preferable in a wife. Except for her exasperating proclivity for accidents, she comported herself well. And she could learn what was necessary to get along in the city.

He smiled to himself. He suspected that with Aurelia as his spouse, life in the country would take on new enticements. And, his eyes still on the balloon, he fell to considering these.

He was still considering, when the balloon came floating back down and the men ran to grab the tether ropes. Harold leaped out, grinning widely. He pumped Ranfield’s hand. “It’s great, Ranny. Wait’ll you get up there.”

Aurelia’s cheeks were pink, and her eyes shone with a glory Ranfield wished he’d been the cause of.

“Oh,” she breathed, leaning over the gondola toward him. “It’s the most glorious thing. There are no words to describe it.”

He felt a distinct pang of jealousy. He’d seen women with that glow before. But never over a balloon.

She turned to her uncle. “Please, sir. The air currents are quite stable. Can’t the Earl go up a little?”

Her uncle hesitated and Ranfield stepped forward. If she wanted him to go up in a balloon, he would go up in a balloon. “Just a short ride, Mr. Amesley. Surely that can come to no harm. I promise you, we won’t go far.”

Amesley’s hand went to his bald pate, and he glanced at the sky. “I suppose it will be all right. Just be careful.”

Ranfield nodded and swung himself into the basket. It moved slightly under his feet—a curious sensation.

“Ready?” asked Harold from his post by the rope.

“Ready,” Aurelia replied and then looked to Ranfield. “That is ...”

“You’re the captain of this expedition,” he replied. “Just tell me what to do.”

She took him at his word. No fluttering lashes, no simpering looks. Just orders.

“A little straw on the brazier. Just a little. That’s it. All right, Harold. We’re ready.”

Slowly the balloon rose. Ranfield sucked in his breath. He had forgotten the wonder of it. Of seeing everything grow smaller and smaller and yet being able to see more and more.

Beside him, Aurelia smiled and gazed out over the countryside. “Isn’t it marvelous?”

“Marvelous,” he agreed.

The view
was
marvelous—he had never considered what his estate would look like from above. But actually he was far more interested in the glowing face and sparkling eyes of the woman beside him.

She wet a finger and raised it to test the wind. He felt a sudden constriction in his chest and restrained an urge to catch hold of some part of her person. No need to be ninnyheaded about this. She was not going to fall out of this balloon as she had fallen out of the oak. Still, one never knew. He moved a little closer.

They stood in companionable silence while the balloon rose slowly higher. He tried to keep his eyes on the countryside, but she was a far more fetching sight—flushed and excited, her bonnet perched precariously on her yellow curls.

And when she turned to ask him something and her arm brushed his, he found he could not help himself. He reached out to steady her, and the next instant he was holding her in his arms.

He was a man. And he did what any man would do. He kissed her.

Her lips were soft, pliant, and her body fit perfectly against his own. A heady sensation came over him. For one wild moment he felt he might be capable of flying without the aid of the balloon.

But he made himself put her from him. Another few seconds and he would be irretrievably lost. There were still questions to be settled. And there was such a thing as propriety.

She looked up at him, those great dark eyes full of anxiety. “Milord, I ...”

He was hard put not to kiss her again, to tell her he ...

But common sense restrained him. “Isn’t that the tradition?” he inquired, giving her his most charming smile.

She looked confused. “Tradition? What tradition?”

“That on a balloon flight a man should be kissed.”

“I ...”

The little innocent really couldn’t tell he was teasing her. He’d forgotten she wasn’t used to the
ton’s
ways. “I’m bamming you again,” he explained. “Though I think it would be a nice tradition? Don’t you?”

Aurelia, trying to contend with her pounding heart and a strange feeling of lassitude that made her want to sink into his arms, managed to smile. “Yes, milord, I suppose so. But since there aren’t many female aeronauts, it might be a little difficult to achieve.”

He shrugged. How, Aurelia wondered, did the tailor get his coat to fit so precisely? It was hardly the time to be thinking of coats and tailors. But how could she think of that kiss? Of being held in his arms?

If she let her thoughts go in that direction, she would move right back into his arms. And Lady Incognita’s heroines never behaved like that. Not before the heroes had declared themselves.

So she remained where she was and contented herself with watching him look out at the scenery while she considered whether or not Phoebe should be apprised of this new development in the progress of The Plan.

* * * *

Phoebe tossed her head. She’d been eyeing Aurelia strangely since their return from the meadow.

“Something has happened,” Phoebe exclaimed. “I can see it in your face.”

Aurelia felt herself coloring. Why must she give herself away? Why couldn’t she just appear unconcerned?

“The Plan,” Phoebe said. “You did something to advance The Plan.”

Aurelia shook her head. “I did not do anything.” Honesty—and friendship—compelled her to go on. “But ... but something did happen.”

“I knew it!” Phoebe rummaged in the desk drawer for the copy of
The Dark Stranger.
“Oh, do tell me.”

“He ... he kissed me.”

“Kissed you?” Phoebe clasped the book to her breast and twirled round the room. “Wonderful! Marvelous!” She gazed raptly at Aurelia. “It was wonderful, wasn’t it?”

Aurelia nodded. “Oh yes. I ... I cannot say how wonderful.”

Phoebe pulled out the desk chair and opened the ink bottle. “At last something to record!”

“Phoebe ...”

“Oh, do not look at me like that. I’m using a code. See . . .
E
equals embrace.
K
equals kiss.” She turned a smiling face to her friend. “And
M
equals matrimony.”

Aurelia tried to be sensible. “We must not hope too much.” She said the sobering words, but she could not feel them. Her heart wanted to sing and her lips to smile. There was only the rather abrupt way he had put her from him to mar the joy of the afternoon. That, and the fact that there had been just the one kiss.

Patience, she counseled herself and turned to Phoebe. “Shall we ...”

But Phoebe was obviously off in a daydream. Her eyes were cloudy with emotion and her lips pursed in a strange smile. Suddenly she threw down the quill. “Aurelia, we must
do
something.”

Startled, Aurelia replied, “Do something? About what?”

“About me. And your cousin.”

Phoebe jumped up from the desk and began to pace the carpet.

“I thought things were going well with you,” Aurelia said. “You did not come to words today?”

Phoebe laughed, a trifle shrilly. “Words? With Harold? Of course not.” She stopped her pacing for a moment. “It’s just that he’s so abominably slow.”

Aurelia smiled. “I’m afraid he would not appreciate being called slow.”

“Oh, not about most things.” Phoebe glanced down at Lady Incognita’s book, then up at her friend. “Only about me.”

“But in such a short time ...”

“I know, I know.”

If Phoebe hadn’t looked so desperate, Aurelia might have laughed. As it was, she understood her friend’s distress. “Please,” she said. “Give Harold some more time. He
is
very shy.”

Phoebe’s eyes lit on the book. “That’s it!” she cried. “I need A Plan.”

“But Phoebe, I’m not even sure The Plan is working.”

“He kissed you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but ...”

“Well, then it’s working. Now, how can I be rescued? You said Harold doesn’t ride, so horses are definitely out.
I
can’t climb trees, so sliding into his arms is out.”

She plopped onto the velvet chaise and stared at the ceiling. “A villain, a villain. My kingdom for a villain.”

Aurelia burst into laughter. “Oh, Phoebe, I am sorry. But you are so ... so dramatic. And surely Mr. Shakespeare would not appreciate your taking such liberties with his words.”

Phoebe smiled. “He would understand, I’m sure. But where can I uncover a villain?”

“My dear, please be reasonable. This is 1819. We are no longer at war. We have no French spies. No smugglers. No pirates.”

“No pirates,” Phoebe repeated, looking thoughtful. “No pirates.” She sat up. “That’s it! The Pirates’ Cave.”

“What about it?”

“Harold shall rescue me.”

Aurelia frowned. All the excitement—or perhaps Ranfield’s kiss—had dulled her wits. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. How can you need to be rescued from the cave?”

“Because I shall be trapped there. By the rising tide.” Phoebe got to her feet and began to prance around the room. “It will work. I know it will work. I shall be Mrs. Harold Amesley.”

“The cave is dreadfully damp,” Aurelia pointed out.

Phoebe shrugged. “I shan’t be there long. Only long enough to be rescued. It’s delightfully scary, you know. So I shall be suitably frightened. And cast myself into his

arms.”

“Yes.” said Aurelia thoughtfully. With Phoebe in his arms, Harold might well be brought to the question.

“But how shall we arrange it?”

Chapter Twelve

It took a full week. Work on the balloons was going on apace, and it was difficult to get away. But late the next Wednesday, the young women left for a walk.

They reached the seashore in good time and made their way down to the cave. Phoebe squinted at the sun. “We shall wait until the tide comes in more. Then you can start back.”

“We should wait longer,” Aurelia pointed out. “Till you are really trapped. Otherwise Ranfield might find us out.”

Phoebe nodded. “You’re right, of course. Well, while we are waiting, let us enjoy the sea.”

They took off their half boots and stockings and frolicked at the water’s edge. Then, tired from the long walk and unexpected play, they sank down on the sand. It was soft and warm. Aurelia’s eyes drifted shut.

She was awakened by someone shaking her. “Hurry,” Phoebe urged. “We fell asleep.”

Still half-groggy, Aurelia struggled to her feet and splashed after Phoebe into the cave’s mouth.