Page 50 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
“Good night, Miss Parnell,” he said softly.
She imagined she heard a wistfulness in his tone that couldn’t possibly exist. She didn’t bother to admonish herself. She’d take joy wherever she could find it.
Chapter Ten
Andrew looked out over London as they ascended higher. As Sadler had warned him, the air was much colder up here, and growing more frigid by the moment. He’d donned a greatcoat and his thickest gloves at Sadler’s recommendation.
The takeoff had been nothing short of breathtaking. The crowd at Burlington House had been massive—so large, in fact, that he hadn’t seen any of his closest friends.
Close friends? He couldn’t think of them that way. He’d taken the opportunity of Miss Parnell’s hiatus to take his own break from visiting the usual hells. Instead, he’d gone off on his own and spent the last few evenings taking in boxing matches at the Bucket of Blood. He’d watched a particularly entertaining bout last night with a viscount named Sevrin who knew far more about pugilism than anyone Andrew had ever met. He’d decided to add it to his list of things to try.
For now, he was content to soar high above the earth. His heart swelled as he thought of Bertie and how much his brother would’ve loved this. He half expected to suffer an attack and was worried what might happen in their current position amidst the lowest clouds, but so far he’d felt surprisingly peaceful.
“How are your ears?” Sadler asked.
He’d warned Andrew that the change in altitude would likely cause pain and encouraged him to swallow and work his jaw to ease the ache. “Fine, thank you. How fast are we going?”
“Not terribly. The wind is pretty calm, but I think it’s going to pick up as we move east. Our speed should increase a bit.”
A sharp pain jabbed through Andrew’s ear and shot down the side of his neck. He brought his hand up and held the side of his head.
“Your ear?” Sadler asked. “Just do what I told you.”
Andrew nodded and moved his jaw.
The pain lessened but didn’t disappear entirely. Bertie wouldn’t have liked the earache, but he would’ve endured it for this. Without warning, the familiar helplessness washed over him, and the world blurred beneath him.
He couldn’t think about Bertie anymore. Miss Parnell immediately came into his head instead. He saw her as he wanted to—as a woman, with her dark hair swept into that feminine style at the ball, her body draped in raspberry silk, the creamy column of her neck graced with pearls.
Had she been wearing pearls that night? He didn’t think so. She likely didn’t have any jewelry, or if she had, she’d sold it. He hated how she’d sounded the other night. Angry and frustrated, then defeated. But only for a moment. She’d rebounded because that was the kind of woman she was. She was forthright and witty and absolutely fearless.
She’d love this, and he suddenly wished he’d brought her along—as Smitty, of course. He’d tell her all about it. He’d explain the floating sensation, the icy temperature, the gut-twisting view, even the earache. She’d thrill to his every description.
What was he doing? He shouldn’t be thinking of her like this. He’d been so relieved when she hadn’t accepted his overture in the close the other night. At least one of them had retained their wits. More and more, he found himself helplessly drawn to her, and that was bad.
He needed distance.
And he’d have it. He was already devising a way to ensure she had all the money she needed. He’d goad Greene into another race—it wouldn’t be difficult—only this time, she wouldn’t go with him so that she could wager. He’d tell her to bet on Greene, and Andrew would lose. Yes, it was cheating, but it was for an excellent cause. If he thought she’d just accept money from him, he’d have given it to her days ago.
As predicted, the wind picked up, and the balloon moved faster. The buildings of London grew more sparse, giving way to greener spaces and tall church spires.
Andrew turned to Sadler. “When can I parachute?” They’d corresponded about this possibility.
Sadler chuckled. “You like this.”
“Very much.” But it was more than that. It was for Bertie. This was the first step, but parachuting was as close to flying as he could get, and he’d do it for his brother.
“I’m doing another ascent in two weeks. You could jump then.”
“Perfect.” He saw Darent Hall. It wasn’t exceptionally large as far as country houses went, but it was beautiful. Designed by Henry Flitcroft seventy years ago, it was situated on a hundred acres of spectacular parkland. Andrew didn’t spend as much time here as he ought because there were too many memories.
The wind increased, jostling them as Sadler guided them to descend. “Hold on, Dartford, this is going to be a bumpy landing. Never fear, I’ve had dozens of them and walked away from each. Maybe with a little help.” He winked at Andrew.
Andrew wasn’t afraid, but then he never was. He didn’t fear death, not when it would reunite him with the people he loved most. He began to shiver and chose to blame the cold air.
The pain in his ears intensified. He winced as they dropped closer to earth.
It started to rain lightly. He squinted at the lawn beneath them and saw specks. They were people, he realized. Who was down there waiting for him? The staff? They knew he was descending today. Perhaps they’d come outside to watch.
