A Heart in Flight (7 page)

She was such a sobersides, so serious-minded. Always thinking about air flight. She was short and fair, and her features, though pleasant enough, were far from classic. She didn’t flatter him. Or coo at him. Or practice any of the feminine arts on him. In sober fact she treated him exactly as she did her cousin. Or her uncle. Why then did having her around make him feel younger, smarter, happier ...?

He muttered a curse. He’d better find out. And soon. His messenger would have reached London by now. And, unless he much missed his guess, Harold and his father would shortly be arriving at the estate.

They would load up their beloved balloon, put Aurelia and her injured ankle in a carriage, and make a rapid return to London. And he would be left behind—a most unhappy man.

He leapt to his feet and began pacing the patterned Persian rug. Obviously, the return trip to London must be delayed. He couldn’t let her go back there—not yet. Not until he had discovered ...

Discovered what? He’d only known the chit a few days. She was a merchant’s daughter, not of the
ton,
ill equipped to live in it. Even more ill equipped man Mama had been. She was not a proper wife for an earl. Not at all.

Muttering another choice expression, he kicked the fireplace fender. Damnation! What did he care about the likes and dislikes of the
ton
? About what was proper? He’d always done as he pleased. And if he ever actually contemplated getting leg-shackled, it would be to a woman he could countenance living with—and loving. What the
ton
said didn’t matter.

He turned and paced the other direction. Wasn’t he a man of some intelligence? Why then, he would find a way to keep them in Dover. At least until he had discovered whether or not Aurelia Amesley was the one.

He smiled and turned toward the door. The place to start was the balloon. He would go have a look at it.

Chapter Six

By Sunday afternoon the inhabitants of the Dover estate had each made plans for the future. Cousin Prudence had marshaled a vast array of Scripture explicitly designed to point out to Aurelia Amesley the error of her ways in regard to air flight and was waiting only for the opportune moment to launch her campaign.

The Earl, having put his mind to the task at hand, had spent the previous day supervising the cleaning and refurbishing of an old shed and sending out messengers in sundry directions.

And Aurelia and Phoebe, their quills busily scratching, had read and reread
The Dark Stranger
and were making lists and more lists.

“So,” said Phoebe as Aurelia reclined on her bed after their late nuncheon. “The Plan is ready. Now all we have to do is put it in motion.”

Aurelia nodded. Her previous anxieties had been forgotten in the furor of their preparations. Now she was committed, completely and irrevocably, to The Plan.

They spoke of it that way—with capital letters and in hoarse whispers—as though to say the words aloud would immediately bring them to Ranfield’s ears. If only they had time to consummate it.

“So, the first thing ...” Phoebe consulted her list, “is a runaway horse.”

“Yes. I do not ride, but ...”

“Don’t tell him that,” Phoebe warned. “He’ll never let you on a horse at all.”

“I know. But how shall I contrive it?” She turned to Phoebe. “Do you ride?”

“Only a little.” Phoebe laughed. “But you must convince him that you’re a better rider than I am.”

“Why?”

“Because he always gives me old Strawberry. And nothing could make that horse run away.”

Aurelia nodded. “Then I must ask for a more spirited animal. Is it difficult, riding?”

“Oh no, it’s great fun. What I should like is a real rousing gallop—on a horse like Ranfield’s mare. But he won’t let me up on her.”

A brisk knock sounded on the door they had taken to keeping closed since the inception of The Plan.

“Come in,” Aurelia called.

Cousin Prudence entered. “The Earl will be coming up shortly,” she reported. “He means to carry you to the library. Says he has acquired a new book he wants to show you.”

Aurelia and Phoebe exchanged glances. Perhaps a new romance would tell them more about how to proceed.

Cousin Prudence snorted and pushed her spectacles back up her nose. She fixed her daughter with a baleful eye. “I hope the man has not brought another of those dreadful volumes into this house. They will degrade your pure characters.”

Aurelia swallowed a laugh and kept her eyes away from Mary Shelley’s
Frankenstein
where it lay upon the table. Cousin Prudence would definitely not find the story of a man created from parts of the dead appropriate for their pure characters.

“Now, Mama,” Phoebe said, giving that worthy personage a sweet smile. “We attended chapel this morning. We cannot read Scripture all the time, you know.”

Cousin Prudence snorted again. “Perhaps not. But you could read it a great deal more than you do.” And she bustled out.

Phoebe shook her head. “Poor Mama. I think she would prefer a pasty-faced hymn-singer for a daughter rather than me.”

Aurelia laughed. “But I should not want you to be like that. I like you just the way you are.” She smoothed the gown of blue sarcenet that Phoebe had chosen for her because it set off her hair. Would Ranfield notice it? Would he ... ?

“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 fly. 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.”