by Regina Scott
Charlotte started forward. Worth caught her arm. “Don’t, Charlotte. You’ll only make matters worse.”
Lydia stepped around both of them. “Allow me.”
Charlotte frowned, but Miss Janssen patted her arm with a smile as if she had complete confidence.
So did Worth. “I would trust no one more than you, Lydia.”
Her smile was his reward. She gathered her skirts and hurried toward the group.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Of all the titled and wealthy gentlemen in London, the one Beau had never quite managed an introduction to was the prince. That fact did not deter Lydia now. Worth had said he believed in her, had extolled her virtues to some of the most important men in the Empire. Their balloon may lie gasping on the grass, but constructing it had taught her there was nothing she could not do if she set her mind to it.
“Oh, Your Highness!” she cried as she approached, making her eyes as wide as possible. “I am so thankful you are unharmed. Hundreds of pounds of silk and hot air falling toward your head, and you stood so manfully, so heroically. What an example to your adoring subjects!”
The prince put his nose in the air. “One must always try to rise above.”
She refused to smile at the pun. “No doubt our prince’s bravery is what inspired you, Mr. Bateman,” she continued, turning to Worth’s bodyguard, who was once more regarding her warily within the wall of pikes. “Only a man who has braved the boxing square and triumphed could truly appreciate what His Highness was doing. The Beast of Birmingham, saving the life of the prince.”
Bateman’s jaw hardened, but the prince eyed him. “Saving my life, eh? Yes, that’s what you were about, wasn’t it? Always thought you were a gentleman, despite what the papers said about that last fight.”
Bateman must have decided to play along, for he lowered his hands to sketch a bow. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Well?” the prince demanded, gaze spearing around to his guard. “Lower your weapons. This man is no danger to me.”
“None at all,” Lydia said blithely, making sure to hide her relief.
The prince was already embroidering the incident. “What an adventure. Staring death in the face, together with the Beast of Birmingham. Remarkable. Amazing! Never fear, sir. You shall have your reward. I promise you that. A shame we don’t have any dukedoms lying about.” He chuckled at his own wit.
One of his ministers, a tall fellow with sharply shaped sideburns, ventured closer. “Surely not a title, Your Highness. Only think how uncomfortable this fellow would feel with such a sudden and unmerited elevation.”
Now Bateman was eyeing him.
“Unmerited?” The prince drew himself up, bulk bristling. “Unmerited, sirrah? This fellow saved my life. I will see him honored.”
Lydia drew back, leaving them to argue over the appropriate manner of that honor. Charlotte, Worth, and Miss Janssen joined her.
“Thank you,” Charlotte said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I couldn’t have done half so well.”
“Jah,” Miss Janssen agreed. “Neither could I. I have heard the prince can be temperamental. You did well.”
“It’s all in the eyes,” Lydia said, fluttering her lashes.
“It is considerably more than your lovely eyes,” Worth said, and her flutter turned to a blink of surprise. “Your abilities to navigate Society with all its vagaries is an asset to this team. Forgive me for ever thinking otherwise.”
Lydia blushed, dropping her chin. Her gaze landed on the sea of scarlet, its once proud stripe now rumpled. “Oh, Worth! The envelope. Can it be saved?”
“Mr. Curtis doesn’t appear to think so,” Charlotte said. “Look.”
The arrogant scientist stood on the other side of the collapsed envelope, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“Satisfied with your effort?” Worth called across the space.
Mr. Curtis’s head jerked up, and his hair fell to one side like a curtain, revealing his reddening bald spot. “I can’t imagine what you mean. I had the highest hopes for this experiment. It was your dalliance that destroyed it.”
~~~
His dalliance. His dalliance? Worth had had enough. He started around the balloon, only vaguely aware of Lydia, Charlotte, and Miss Janssen scurrying in his wake. His indignation must have shown on his face, for Curtis retreated before him until Worth cornered him under one of the trees at the edge of the park.
“I have never dallied with any woman,” Worth spit out as the natural philosopher he had once admired huddled against the bark. “You, on the other hand, attempted to convince my sister, my associate, and the woman I love that you were utterly devoted when you are devoted to only one thing—your ability to advance.”
Curtis drew himself up, tugging down on his coat with elaborate self-importance, as if he was well aware of the audience behind Worth. “Nonsense. If I showed interest in any of your ladies it was merely as a colleague, sharing matters of joint interest.”
“Stealing our work, you mean,” Charlotte said around Worth’s shoulder. “We are on to you, sir. I wouldn’t be surprised if you sent those threatening letters and threw that brick at Worth.”
Curtis spread his hands. “My dear Miss Worthington, I have no idea what you mean.”
“Don’t you?” Worth challenged. “You have done all you could to discredit my work, claim it as your own. Have you no ideas of your own left, man? Is that why you’ve tried to prevent me from discovering what you couldn’t?”
The red climbed in Curtis’s face. “You have no idea how hard it is to make a mark. Everything you had was given to you. And you would have squandered it without my guidance.”
Could the man be any more insulting? Charlotte took equal umbrage.
“Yet look what he accomplished without you,” she stormed. “This balloon, these advancements. And once again, you attempt to claim credit. You disgust me, sir.”
Curtis rounded on her. “And you, madam, what have you done except ride on your brother’s coattails? Yes, I sent those notes. If I wasn’t to be helped, I certainly refused to be hinder or worse, to have my accomplishments claimed as his in spite.”
“Spite,” Worth said. “Yes, you’d know something about that, wouldn’t you? Pure spite must have motivated you to seize a brick and hurl it at my head. But even then, you miscalculated.”
Curtis looked as if he wanted to say more, but he pasted on a smile as Julian strolled up with a nod that included them all.
“Gentlemen, ladies. A very interesting demonstration. His Royal Highness would like to know when the balloon can be repaired.”
“As quickly as possible,” Curtis assured him. “I’ll take charge of the matter myself.”
Not today. Worth had retreated without protest before. He hadn’t trusted his own insights. But he knew what was right now.
“There has been a misunderstanding,” Worth told Julian. “Mr. Curtis has had and will have no part in this effort. I introduced my team. We have faced adversity at every turn, but we will continue to triumph without any aid from Mr. Curtis.”
“Now, really,” Curtis started.
Charlotte stepped between Worth and him. By Curtis’s grimace, she’d also stepped on the fellow’s foot.
“Do go on, Worth,” she said sweetly.
Lydia beamed as if she knew Charlotte sounded remarkably like her.
“To answer your question,” Worth told Julian, who appeared to be trying to hide a smile, “we will need to assess the damage before we can tell whether the envelope can be salvaged, and how long that will take. I will send word as soon as possible.”
Curtis leaned around Charlotte. “I would be happy to explain the mechanisms involved to His Royal Highness.”
Julian waved a hand. “Thank you, Mr. Curtis, but I don’t think that will be necessary. In fact, it is safe to say your services are no longer required. I will convey your regrets to His Highness. And I believe I will have a word with Sir Humphry. It may be ti
me you retired from the Royal Institution.” With a bow, he strode off.
“My dear sir,” Curtis sputtered, jerking away from Charlotte to hurry after him. “You are mistaken. Allow me to explain myself.”
“An interesting turn of events,” Charlotte murmured to Worth. “You know Mr. Mayes better than I do. Can he do what he claimed, see Curtis blackballed?”
“I am one hundred percent certain of it,” Worth said with a smile after his friend. “Curtis’s days of basking in other people’s glory are over.”
Lydia wiggled her fingers in goodbye. Miss Janssen went to far as to spit after Curtis.
“Well,” Charlotte said brightly. “How lovely.”
He couldn’t argue. For the first time in a long time, he felt clean, clear, weightless, almost like his balloon.
The envelope of which was rippling in the breeze as it stretched across the grass.
The demonstration aborted, the drama done, most of the crowds had left. The prince was heading for his coach. His yeoman guard had surrounded someone else. Worth could just make out a flash of white among the red and black.
Bateman wandered back to join them.
“Will you be a duke, then?” Miss Janssen asked, eyeing him consideringly.
Bateman snorted. “No. Prinny is known for his enthusiasm, but his ministers will prevent him from doing anything that might embarrass them. I’ll be lucky if I see a silver plate for my trouble, much less a fancy title.”
“Still, it was very brave of you, Beast,” Charlotte said, and he colored.
“I’m prouder of what I did after,” he said, nodding to where the guard was marching for St. James’s. “I let the guards know who caused the balloon to fall on the prince.”
Miss Janssen gasped, while Lydia tilted her head this way and that as if trying to see through the phalanx of pikes.
“Is that Miss Pankhurst?” she asked.
Bateman nodded. “On her way to be questioned. Attempting to kill the monarch is high treason.”
“Oh, Beast,” Charlotte said, and there was something adoring in the way she said it.
Worth turned to Bateman, who was nearly as red as the fallen silk. “Nicely done. Can you see this bundled up and returned to the house?”
“Of course,” his bodyguard said. Then he frowned. “What will you be doing?”
“Rectifying another matter,” Worth assured him. He turned to Lydia. She was still watching the retreating guard, her eyes bright and smile winsome. His heart started beating faster.
“You’ve said little since I confronted Curtis,” he told her. “Why?”
She turned her gaze to his, the green as welcoming as the soft grass of the park. “You said Mr. Curtis attempted to convince your sister, your associate, and the woman you love. All your associates have vied for your attention. Miss Janssen says you do not love her. You clearly have no love for Miss Pankhurst.”
Worth smiled. “Your logic is flawless. There is only one woman I have ever loved. To my shame, I sent her away once, but I never stopped loving her.”
“Me?” The word came out a squeak.
“You,” Worth assured her as the park, their eager audience, and his beloved balloon faded from his mind. Amazing how one woman brought such clarity.
“I offered for you the night we were stranded in the balloon,” he said, “and you refused me. Unlike Mr. Curtis, I am not as persuasive as I should be.”
He went down on one knee as she gazed at him in wonder. “Allow me to try once more to convince you. I love you, Lydia. I adore your enthusiasm, your clever mind, your willingness to work at a goal even when things seem hopeless. You help me rise above my foibles and faults. You give me insights I never thought possible. Together, I believe we can make our lives better, the world better. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
~~~
Lydia clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling. Charlotte, Miss Janssen, and Bateman were all watching, and she thought at least one had ceased breathing, waiting for Lydia’s answer. Below her, Worth gazed up, smile tender, sweet. She wouldn’t make him wait another second, not even for a new chronometer.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, always and forever.”
Worth surged to his feet and wrapped her in his arms. In his kiss was the answer to every question she had ever had, every dream she had dared to dream. They had taken a year to come back to each other, but it was nothing compared to all the years to come, together.
“I love you,” she said when he raised his head. “I always will.”
His gaze did not leave her face, as if he could not get enough of her. “Charlotte,” he said. “I need your help.”
His sister stepped closer, smile bright and tears in her eyes. “Anything, Worth. And congratulations to you both. I couldn’t be happier.”
Bateman and Miss Janssen echoed her congratulations.
“You saw Lady Lilith’s wedding,” Worth said, arms still about Lydia. “All the furbelows and gewgaws and fuss.”
Charlotte glanced at Lydia, smile turning to dismay. “I did. I know it must have seemed ostentatious, Worth, but it was the kind of wedding most women want.”
“So I surmised,” he said. “I intend to surpass it.”
Charlotte stared at him.
Oh, the darling man. Lydia giggled. “Don’t worry, Charlotte. It doesn’t have to be elaborate. I’d be content to marry your brother in a barn.”
“Nonsense,” Worth said. “I want all of London to know how happy I am with my bride. Book Westminster. Ask the prince to loan us his chef. Buy every flower from the sellers in Covent Garden. Invite everyone.”
Now Charlotte was laughing along with Lydia. “I’ll do my best. It might take a few months.”
“A fortnight,” Worth declared. “I’ll wait no longer.”
A fortnight? Well, she didn’t want to wait longer either. What would Beau say when he returned from his honeymoon and discovered she was Lady Worthington?
Lady Worthington. She would never have thought it possible.
Charlotte shook her head. “And I suspect I must make arrangements for a honeymoon trip as well.”
“No,” Lydia answered before Worth could. “That I will plan. I think we’ll travel in the Alps.”
Worth stuck out his lower lip thoughtfully.
“In our balloon,” Lydia concluded. “You’ll need to know whether it can survive colder temperatures, greater heights.”
He threw back his head and laughed.
Lydia hugged him close. Truly, it didn’t matter where or when they married or took their wedding trip. She had vied for a viscount and given him her heart a year ago, and now she knew she held his heart as well. The future would be as bright and expansive as a scarlet balloon. And she would make sure it never deflated.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A fortnight later, Meredith stood in Hyde Park among a crowd of people. It seemed everyone in London had turned out for the wedding of Viscount Worthington and Lydia Villers. The bride’s brother Beau and his wife had even returned from their honeymoon early to attend. Most of the guests had accompanied them here, where their balloon waited, approved and lauded by the prince. The only person who looked the least uncomfortable was Mr. Bateman, and Meredith could only suppose the slumped shoulders came from humility. It had been in all the papers that he was to be knighted by the prince for his valor.
Now Lydia blew kisses to friends and family, while Worth looked so pleased he might have lifted the balloon from sheer joy alone. Men threw top hats in the air and ladies waved lace-edged handkerchiefs as the jaunty scarlet balloon, now boasting both a blue and a white stripe, rose into the sky. The pair planned to land near Ipswich before boarding a ship for Belgium.
Below the basket, playing out the rope with Mr. Bateman, Julian kept his gaze on the balloon. He had stood up with Lord Worthington as best man and had taken his duties so seriously he hadn’t done more than shoot a smile in Meredith’s direction. Much as she delighted in his
smiles, she could not help wishing for more.
Meredith sighed as she turned away. Her arms always felt empty without Fortune in them. She hadn’t dared bring the cat to the park for fear of losing her. Meredith rather thought her house would feel empty without Lydia’s smiling presence.
“Miss Thorn.”
Meredith glanced back to see who had called. Charlotte Worthington strolled up, carriage serene, grey silk skirts brushing the gravel of the path.
“Miss Worthington,” Meredith acknowledged. “Congratulations. I understand from Lydia that you made most of the wedding arrangements. Well done.”
“I was happy to help,” Charlotte assured her, tucking a stray auburn hair back under her feathered hat. “And I’m glad you could attend. May I beg a moment of your time to discuss business?”
Interesting. Lydia had said Lord Worthington intended to continue his studies on their return. Perhaps his sister wished to locate another lady to assist.
“It would be my pleasure,” Meredith said.
Charlotte nodded toward the path, and the two commenced strolling toward the Serpentine.
“I cannot forget how you brought Lydia to us,” the viscount’s sister murmured, gaze on the greenery they passed. “You are an excellent advocate for your clients. How would a lady go about becoming one?”
Meredith faltered, but she made herself keep walking, mind busy. She had once considered approaching Charlotte about helping her find her future. But Charlotte was not her usual sort of client. She had no need to work for a living, and she’d seemed more than content lately with her role in her brother’s work.
“I generally choose my clients based on an interview,” she allowed. “I then place them according to needs I become aware of from time to time. I take it you know someone who’d like a position.”
“Yes,” Charlotte said. She drew in a breath. “Me.”
“Indeed.” Meredith paused as they drew near the water, trying to gather her thoughts. “May I ask why?”