Page 68 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
“Transformative or not,” Lady Pendleton interjected, “your plan depends on Miss Playford and Mr. Ashworth actually entering the balloon together. Yet right now Mrs. Pike ismarching her niece toward Lord Windermere, and the girl looks positively ill with dread.”
Eugenia quickly scanned the growing crowd. Indeed, there was Venetia, paler than her white gown, being practically dragged by her aunt toward Windermere, who stood conversing with Mr. Barnaby near the refreshment tent.
“Fear not,” Eugenia said with more confidence than she felt. “I have contingencies in place.”
“Such as?” Lord Thornton prompted.
“Caroline Weston will distract Mrs. Pike at the crucial moment. I shall speak to her as soon as she arrives. Meanwhile, I will instruct Henry to approach from the opposite direction. Mr. Beaumont has instructions to effect the release the instant both are aboard.” She nodded decisively, watching as the aeronaut checked his pocket watch. “All perfectly timed. By four o’clock, when the afternoon air is most stable and the light most golden, they’ll be aloft.”
“And if Windermere physically prevents Henry from approaching? The man is not known for his restraint when thwarted.” Lady Pendleton’s question held genuine concern beneath the acerbic tone.
“Or if Miss Playford herself refuses to participate?” added Lord Thornton. “She appears to be under considerable duress.”
Eugenia faltered for the first time. “She wouldn’t. She couldn’t possibly prefer Windermere to Henry.”
“I am sure she does not,” Lord Thornton said gently. “But fear is a powerful motivator. And Mrs. Pike has had days to work upon her niece’s fears, whatever they may be. Remember,” he added, “Miss Playford does not have the choices afforded to her had she been an heiress.”
A cold finger of doubt trailed down Eugenia’s spine, but she squared her shoulders resolutely as she watched Mr. Beaumont signal that the envelope was nearly fully inflated, the silknow straining against its moorings in the perfect afternoon conditions. “Then we shall simply have to ensure that fear does not triumph today. Excuse me.”
Moving purposefully towards the balloon, she heard Lady Pendleton murmur to Lord Thornton, “She’s either the most brilliant strategist or the most spectacular meddler in London.”
“Perhaps both,” came his amused reply, followed by what sounded suspiciously like, “It’s rather magnificent, isn’t it?”
Eugenia wasn’t sure whether to be bolstered by the suggestion of praise, or concerned at Lady Pendleton and Thornton’s familiarity.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Henry was impressedas he wove his way through the throng of London’s elite gathered for Lady Townsend’s spectacle.
The afternoon sun reflected off the enormous blue-and-gold balloon that dominated the clearing, its silk envelope fully inflated, straining against the ropes that tethered it to earth. Temporary pavilions with fluttering pennants had been erected along the riverbank, while liveried footmen hurried through the crowd bearing silver trays of refreshments.
What a magnificent setting to put right all wrongs!
Henry spotted Venetia immediately, standing near the balloon basket in her white gown, looking as delicate as porcelain against the robust chaos of the scene.
“Ladies, let me procure you refreshment,” he said, his genial tone belying the churning in his belly. In the next few hours, he and Caroline required a great deal of luck to ensure Venetia would neither succumb to pressure nor suffer crushing disappointment if they revealed the possibility of a liberation that might not be forthcoming. Only Mr. Rothbury knew the answer to that—and he wasn’t here.
Still, Henry was not going to allow his optimism to be diluted.
“Please don’t leave me, Henry.”
Henry had been about to procure Venetia a glass of lemonade when her plaintive request made him turn to see LordWindermere advancing towards them. There was a malevolent gleam in the older man’s eye, and unconsciously, Henry balled his fists.
“Windermere,” he said, his tone barely polite. “And Barnaby,” he added, not bothering to keep the acid from his words. “What an extraordinary afternoon our hostess has laid on for us.”
“She has indeed,” Lord Windermere said, glancing about. A knot of finely dressed revelers stood just feet away—Lord Liverpool was speaking with Lady Ponsonby and Sir William Elford.
“And look who else I happened to come upon,” said Windermere with an undisguised sneer. “Why, it is the Princess Katarina von Esterházy. Otherwise known as the mysterious lady in blue.”
Dear Lord—there she was! The same young woman who’d destroyed Henry’s reputation at Lady Henderson’s ball.
For the first time, his optimism faltered. Where were his supporters? Caroline’s sister-in-law had discovered proof the young woman was an actress who’d been paid. Yet clearly, the rumors had not been sufficiently quashed.
“Henry Ashworth, where is your honor?” Barnaby taunted him. “The princess has been waiting for redress, but yet again you have let her down.” He raised his voice just loud enough for their neighbors to hear.
Several heads turned in their direction. Lady Ponsonby, never one to miss potential gossip, nudged Sir William and inclined her head towards the brewing confrontation. Lord Liverpool frowned but remained watching with ill-concealed interest.
Henry felt Venetia’s hand grip his arm. He sensed rather than saw her panic. Indeed, his own panic was rising. He sawCaroline in the distance—she had stopped in her progress across the lawn, perhaps sensing that drama was about to unfold.
