Page 81 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
She staggered to a stop at the sight that greeted her. The morning had lightened just enough that she could see Harry walking around a basket that was attached to a gigantic balloon. She’d seen one before at one of the fairs where her father had displayed Harry. “What’s that doing here?” she asked, fearful that she knew the answer.
“It’s going to serve as our conveyance.”
He wrapped his hand around her arm and began propelling her forward.
“Is something wrong with your coach?” she asked.
“Not at all.”
Glancing over, she saw that he was grinning. The picnic was not the surprise, blast him. The balloon was. The place he was taking her that she’d never been? The clouds.
“Rose, look!” Harry exclaimed as she neared. In the darkness she thought Gerald appeared as pale as she was certain she was.
“Yes, dearest, it’s quite amazing, isn’t it?”
“Would you like to take a ride in it?” Avendale asked.
Harry nodded with as much enthusiasm as his limitations allowed.
Avendale turned to her. “Rose?”
“You don’t seriously expect us to climb into a wicker basket and go into the air.”
“Think of the view.”
“Think of the splatter when we fall from the sky.”
“Mr. Granger”—he nodded toward a man standing near the balloon—“is an exceptional pilot. I’ve ridden with him before. I assure you that it is an extraordinary experience.” He turned her until she faced him squarely. “Isn’t that what you wanted for Harry? He’ll see the sunrise coming over London as few have seen it. We’ll go without you if we must, but I’d rather have you there.”
“Come with us, Rose, please,” Harry pleaded.
“Yes, all right.” She’d never been able to resist granting him his wishes, and she detected the slightest disappointment in Avendale’s eyes because it was Harry’s words rather than his own that would sway her.
“Good,” Avendale said. “Now we must be away or we’re going to miss the best part.” He swept her up into his arms, lifted her over the side of the basket, and settled her inside. She grabbed a rope that held the balloon tethered to the wicker. After helping Harry climb in, he followed, with Mr. Granger finally joining them. She thought he should have been the first one in. What if the blasted thing had taken off without him?
Avendale slid his arm around her and tucked her in against him. “Here I thought you were fearless.”
“I’m pragmatic. If we were meant to fly we’d have wings.”
“If we were meant to fly, we’d figure out how to do it.”
Gerald removed the moorings. Granger did something and she heard a whoosh of air, the basket lifted slightly, swayed. She clutched Avendale’s arm, wishing she could reach out and hold Harry, but that would have required she release her stranglehold on the rope, and she was certain as long as she held it, somehow she could keep the balloon afloat.
And it did feel as though they were floating ... up, up, up. Until she was staring at the roof of Avendale’s residence.
“We’ve gone up far enough, don’t you think?” she asked.
“Relax, Rose. I’m not going to let you fall.”
She leaned back against his chest, and his other arm came around her, bringing her near. “Shouldn’t you be holding on to something?”
“I’m holding on to you.”
“Yes, but if we start to fall—”
“If we start to fall, nothing we’re holding on to is going to keep us up here.”
“Thank you for the reassurance.”
