by Willa Ramsey
“You’ve brought me the beast,” Edie replied, embracing her friend and the dog in turn. “I’ve brought one, too,” she muttered, gesturing to Adam.
He approached them and bowed, trying to seem gentlemanly but disinterested. “Miss Crispin.”
“Lord Ryland.”
“He doesn’t think we can walk to the park without stumbling into scandal.”
Caro laughed—nervously, he thought. Then she glanced at him, a quick skim of his features before looking at the ground. “I suppose we can’t be too careful.”
“Humph,” Edie replied, passing Toby’s leash to him.
He took his place at the curb, walking apart from the ladies and focusing on keeping the dog out of the street.
He only needed a moment with Caro, to find out if her scheme was moving forward. He would love to have more with her, of course—more smiles, more saucy retorts, more time to plan their next outing—but he would settle for finding out if he needed to be in Hyde Park the next day, at a certain balloon test, just before dawn.
“There. That should keep him occupied awhile,” Edie said after throwing a large stick in the direction of a host of swallows, resting in an expanse of grass. Toby went thundering toward them, Adam in tow.
“Are you sure that’s all right?” Caro asked. “Does your brother even like dogs?”
Edie waved her hand. “I haven’t seen you in days, and we were never to be rid of him otherwise. The man is a parasite lately.”
Caro smiled and picked at the tips of her gloves. She’d been increasingly uncomfortable at having withheld from Edie what had happened with Strayeth and Chumsley, and that she now intended to teach them a lesson. But she couldn’t begin to explain these developments now—not when she was so close to executing her scheme. She also had to conceal her growing fondness for Adam, and the way his kindness and respectfulness had eroded some of her pessimism regarding marriage.
But only some of it.
“You should have seen the crowd at Lady Blick’s,” Edie continued once they were alone. “I swear, I might like to watch my brother squirm, chatting up all the bucks and fops about my pleasing attributes and such. But even I would’ve stayed home if I’d known we’d be stuffed into every corner, like some holiday roast.”
“That’s nice,” she answered, distracted.
“Did you hear that awful business with the wager?”
Adam and Toby were still together—thankfully—but had ventured so far off that Caro could no longer make out Adam’s expression.
“Caro? Did you hear me?” Edie continued.
“What? Sorry—no.”
“I asked if you knew about Chumsley’s wager. The one with Strayeth.”
“No,” Caro replied, turning away so Edie couldn’t see her face as she lied.
“No? Well, it’s quite the thing.” Edie told her all about the wager, which she had heard about from Lady Blick herself, and which she had discussed many times with guests at both of the parties she’d attended in recent days.
“What do you make of that?” Edie asked her.
“I think it’s tedious,” Caro told her. At least I can be honest on some points.
“It is truly low, even for them,” Edie replied. “Didn’t you say you saw Strayeth at your father’s lecture? I’m surprised he didn’t mention it.”
“He knows I have no patience for his idiocy. Chumsley’s, either.”
“Indeed,” Edie replied. “We must have made it clear long ago that we don’t stand for such nonsense.”
Caro noticed that Adam had turned in their direction, and appeared to be trying to wrangle Toby their way. Edie took her arm and turned them in the opposite direction.
“I swear, I don’t know what is wrong with him lately.”
“Edie, wait—could we sit here awhile?” she asked, pointing to a nearby bench. “I apologize; I know you want to evade your brother, but I could stand a quick rest, just the same.”
“Of course. Is everything all right?”
“It’s just my feet. These half-boots are worthless. One of these days, I’m going to follow through on my threat to get a pair of Hessians, like Mama.”
If nothing else, Adam had succeeded in tiring the dog out a little. He had no idea how a dog with relatively short legs and a barrel for a chest could have so much buoyancy and verve.
If nothing else, Adam saw why the creature was such a good match for Caro.
“Brother. Glad you made it back to us alive,” Edie called to him, amusement in her voice.
“No thanks to you,” he replied. He dropped the leash and Toby bounded to Caro, landing in her lap on the bench.
“I am sorry, Ca—Miss Crispin,” he called out, hurrying over.
She was laughing, tilting her head back while the dog swiped at her throat with his tongue.
“It’s nothing,” she replied. “Off, Toby!” she called out finally. The dog gave her one more lathe across the face before jumping down.
They stood and allowed Toby to lead them back to the pathway that would take them to the street, and then to the intersection where they would turn in opposite ways.
He needed to speak with her before they reached the edge of the Square, but they couldn’t do so with Edie there. He risked a quick glance at Caro and then slowed his step, knowing that Edie—who was holding Toby’s leash—would have to move ahead of them, to keep up with the dog’s frenetic pace.
It worked. Caro slowed too, taking the hint. They had but little time, as they were only a few dozen yards from the edge of the park.
“I invited Strayeth to the launch,” she whispered in a rush.
“And?”
“I made it sound as if there would be an opportunity for a tryst of some kind. We spoke only briefly and I ran off, hopefully without much notice.”
Adam stiffened. He didn’t enjoy asking this at all, but it was essential: “And was he…forward with you?”
They were but yards from the street now, where Edie stood, using all her might to prevent Toby from showering his affection on a servant passing by with a small child. Caro slowed nearly to a stop, and whispered, “Strayeth asked me to slip away from Rotten Row, and when I refused, to let him escort me to my next appointment. When I offered to meet him at the launch instead, he seemed content.”
He inhaled sharply, his jaw muted and grinding. “And Chumsley?”
Edie was looking back at them now, so Caro picked up her pace and headed toward her. “You’re not going to like it.”
He looked at her. “What did the bloody idiot say?”
She sighed.
He stopped walking and put his hand on her elbow—just the slightest touch, gone in an instant. She stopped and backed up a half-step, so they were standing together. “I don’t mean to alarm you, Adam—I can handle all of this just fine.” She glanced up to check that Edie and Toby were still standing with the servant. “But when he asked if I would go for a ride in his phaeton and I gave him my excuse, he told me that he knew which window was mine, at the house.”
Adam bit his lip and looked around, holding back a myriad of vivid oaths.
“But it was nothing, Adam,” she said, starting to reach for him but stopping herself. “He would never be so bold as to enter my home uninvited. Besides, I intend to keep a lock on the window, Toby on my bed, and a hairpin under my pillow.”
The dog had pulled Edie back to them, and they were no longer alone.
“Ah! Once again, our outing has been too brief,” Caro said as she took the leash from Edie and embraced her. “Edie, Adam. I will see you again very soon, I hope.”
She turned and headed off. He tried to sort through his jumbled thoughts, wondering if he should call out and attempt to stop her, to better understand her state of mind.
To convince her to let him stand watch by her window.
But he stayed silent. And as they watched her go, Edie turned to him and asked, “Since when does Caro call you Adam?”
Dear Miss Crispin,
>
Please advise me as to the status of our project. I should not like to move forward if you are not entirely ready. If something has occurred that gives you pause, or if you have reconsidered the wisdom of our plans, please inform me at once.
Regards,
Lord Ryland
Dear Lord Ryland,
How unsteady you must think us! Of course we are ready to proceed as planned. We are undeterred, and shall pretend you never doubted us.
Regards,
Miss Crispin
Dear Miss Crispin,
I could never call you unsteady. Hurricanes, perhaps. But never you.
I will move forward, then.
Regards,
Lord Ryland
Chapter Fifteen
“This way, Lord Strayeth! The balloon is this way, my lord.”
Lud, this gentleman has the focus of a gnat. She put her hand through the crook of his arm, trying to guide him. He barely moved.
“Who are all these people, Miss Crispin?” he asked, wide-eyed in spite of the dark, early-morning hour. He looked around in wonder.
“They are called workers, my lord.”
“And is that Ryland over there, by those carts? What is he doing here?”
“Is it?” she replied, still tugging him along. “I’m sure I couldn’t say. He is a new patron of ours, so perhaps my parents invited him.”
“Your parents?”
Lawks. Was it truly so hard to imagine? “Yes, my lord. I have a mother, you see, and she does things. Now please, come this way. As you can see, the balloon has already been filled with gas, and is ready to go aloft.”
He reluctantly trudged along. “Really, Miss Crispin. You are the strangest girl!”
She pulled him to where Mama and Papa were monitoring the final checks to the balloon. A large net held the envelope in place over the wicker car, with ropes tied to iron stakes driven deep into the ground. Two additional ropes—several leagues in length—had been tied to the inside of the car, and would keep the entire apparatus tethered to the earth once the balloon went aloft.
As she’d predicted, Mama and Papa were too distracted with the launch to care that she had gone ahead and invited a couple of aristos.
Strayeth pulled his arm to his side, yanking her close. “I thought we were here to linger in the wood, chère amie,” he whispered. He slowed his pace and pulled her back.
“But sir! I could not manage it myself.”
“Manage what, my dear?”
“Flying, of course. It’s too frightening!” She did her best impression of a maiden in distress, her hands on her cheeks and everything.
“Flying? You are going to…fly?” The whites of his eyes doubled in size.
“No, we are going to fly. But we’ll be tethered, of course. What did you think we were going to do?”
He stared at her.
“We’ll be alone up there,” she whispered, looking at the sky, which was just beginning to lighten into day. “No one will be able to see us, my lord. I thought you might like that.”
“Yes, but…”
“Perhaps I should send for Lord Chumsley.”
“No! No. I am right behind you, chère amie. Do…do lead on.”
She seethed, but continued along anyway. Does he think I don’t know what he means? I am not your “chère amie,” you dandified windsucker. I am not your lover, and I never will be.
Adam checked a third hitch, then a fourth. He was no stranger to horse-drawn carts; he used them all the time at Ardythe, for his dabbles in earth-moving and landscape-shaping. But as comfortable as he was moving dirt, he wasn’t quite sure how to move people in one with any comfort.
He finally found the sturdiest-looking of the bunch and tied three leather straps to a wooden plank on the inside, each one forming a large loop. He hoped it would give his passengers something to hang onto, as it was sure to be a bumpy ride.
He led the mare through the equipment area and past a small huddle of workers who were smoking and chatting, their work filling the balloon now done. They stared at him, perhaps wondering why he would bring an animal and a cart so close to the mysterious balloon and the commotion that surrounded it.
“Can we help ye, my lord?” an elderly man asked.
“No, I’m quite fine.” They went quiet, watching him take a horse that wasn’t his, leading a cart that wasn’t his, toward a scene that was tense and crowded with people.
What a privilege it is to be an earl.
He stopped about twenty feet outside the circle of iron rings that held the balloon in place and stroked the horse’s forelock and muzzle. He watched as Mrs. Crispin turned and saw him, doing a double-take and then staring at him.
He tipped his hat and smiled at her.
She cocked her head at him as if puzzled by something (there was a great deal worth puzzling over), but after several seconds she turned back to the work at hand. They needed to check the barometer, Caro had told him, and the bags of sand tied to the side of the car. But Mrs. Crispin also kept looking aside at something, and he followed her gaze to the far side of the circle, where a green windsock fluttered but gently against its wooden post.
There was only the slightest of breezes, just as Caro had hoped.
He then watched as Strayeth entered the circle, leading Caro by the hand. His heart jumped in his chest and banged at his throat as if to get out. The mare tossed her head and pawed at the dirt.
He patted her on the withers and whispered in her ear, trying to calm himself, too. He couldn’t hear them, but he kept his eye on Mr. and Mrs. Crispin, the former of whom wrung his hands as they conversed with Strayeth and Caro.
They will not say no to him. They cannot say no to a lord, even an impetuous one, demanding to go up in their balloon.
Thankfully, they also trust their daughter.
Sure enough, they moved aside and Caro opened the door to the car. She and Strayeth stepped inside while her parents continued speaking to her rather intently, perhaps giving her some final instructions. Then they stepped back and signaled for the men at the iron rings to untie their respective ropes.
The balloon lifted from the ground at once.
“The funny thing about balloons is that they ascend rather quickly,” Caro said cheerfully as the envelope surged skyward, yanking the car from the ground, sending Strayeth to his buttocks on the floor beside her.
She held onto a rope and stayed on her feet.
“Are you all right, sir?”
Strayeth looked up at her, his face pale and moist. “Have you done this before? How high will we go?”
“The tethers will allow us only to the height of St. Paul’s Cathedral. And yes, I have done this before.”
He nodded briskly, still on the floor. “Good.”
As if on cue, the tethers reached their limit and the car lurched violently before stopping its ascent. The breeze pulled them sideways a bit, swaying them gently, to and fro.
Their new stability seemed to embolden Strayeth, and he dug his fingers into the wicker and pulled himself up. She waited until he was standing flush against the wall, peering over the side in childlike wonder, before she reached under her skirt and pulled out the butcher’s knife she had strapped to her right calf.
“Let’s make this interesting, shall we?” she asked as she brought the blade down on the first tether, then the second.
And just like that, they were free.
When the first rope came tumbling to the ground, Mr. and Mrs. Crispin scratched their heads. When the second one fell, they grabbed a hold of one another as the rest of crowd—workers, pupils, horses, and earl—froze as one. The balloon was loose.
Within seconds, everyone but Adam and the Crispins turned, shouted, or ran amok—not knowing what to do, not knowing what to say. Chaos ensued.
“Easy, old girl,” he whispered to the mare, shaking off his fear and beginning his task. “It’s all part of the plan.” Then he led her through the crowd, reassuring her in his most soothing
tones.
“I need you to come with me,” he told the Crispins when he reached them.
Still clutching one another, they turned and stared at him, the worst kind of fear on their faces.
“Miss Crispin is fine, I assure you. Now please—get in.” He pulled Mrs. Crispin by the hand and led her away from her husband, to the back of the cart. The poor woman seemed in shock. Mr. Crispin was a little better, but Adam had to take his hand, too, and lead him into the cart behind his still-stunned wife.
“Hold on to one of the straps. There you go. Tightly, now.”
Then he climbed onto the seat, took the reins, and urged the mare on.
“Your daughter is fine,” he repeated, turning his head to check on his passengers, who were now bouncing behind him and likely in great discomfort. He’d never realized how uneven the ground was in that part of the park. “I’ll try to find the smoothest path.”
Mr. Crispin seemed to have regained some of his composure. “What’s this about, Lord Ryland? How do you know what is happening?”
“I’ve been getting to know your daughter, Mr. Crispin. And I am confident that she will be fine. She has flown in your balloon many times, has she not?”
“Yes, but we’ve never had a tether break before…”
It didn’t break. She cut it. Both of them. “But she has handled other unexpected events with courage and competence, has she not?”
“I suppose,” Mr. Crispin replied. “I suppose you are right.”
Now Mrs. Crispin spoke up. “Is this as fast as you can go, Lord Ryland?”
“No, Mrs. Crispin. Is this as fast as you can go?”
She shook her head.
He turned forward again and saw that the balloon had grown smaller in the sky—it was now half the size it was just a moment ago.
He urged the mare into a trot, and she quickly complied.
“Miss Crispin! What in blazes have you done?” Strayeth shouted. He had sunk to the floor again and was gripping the wicker behind him as if his life depended on it.