Kathleen Y'Barbo (8 page)

“You will have no trouble from me on that account,” she said as she watched the moonlight filter through the lacy fretwork of a building under construction at the far end of downtown. “Actually, I would require the same promise from you.”

“Considering I have no idea of your name, telling anyone of our adventure would prove difficult, would it not?”

“Agreed.”

They drifted back toward the center of the city and then the stranger began to send the balloon into a slow descent. Any of the buildings nearby might have made a decent landing place. However, the nearest was the dreaded Peabody.

“Sir,” she said as she noticed several downtown buildings that might be his chosen landing target. “May I ask where we are stopping?”

His chuckle was low and soft. “The Peabody Hotel, of course,” he said as he set his course and maneuvered toward the expanse of roof now so very near. “I happen to know they never lock the roof access door. Do not ask how I know this.”

She hauled in a deep breath and held it. Of all the places to make a landing, he was heading for the last place she wanted to be. Possibly the most populated building in all of Memphis on this holiday night.

It was too late to say anything, however, for they were practically there. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to pray, but no words would come beyond a swift plea for safety and secrecy.

“And we are here,” he said as they hit the rooftop with a soft thud. “Go ahead and release the belt. I will tell you how.”

Millie did as he asked and then stepped forward. Turning around to face him, she watched him check his dials and gauges, ignoring her completely.

The man’s preoccupation with his gadgets gave her the opportunity to study him openly. The wind had ruffled his dark hair beneath his stylish hat, leaving him with a slightly unkempt scientist-gone-mad look not altogether unpleasant.

He caught her staring and grinned. “This is where we part.”

“Yes, right.” Millie waited for him to cinch up his restraining belt and fly away. “Well,” she said a moment later, “thank you for an interesting evening.”

“Indeed. However, I really could not leave without my coat.”

“Oh!” She quickly slipped out of the garment and handed it back. The chill that followed had her rubbing her arms for warmth.

A floor below, the orchestra had long since completed its rendition of “Auld Lang Syne” and moved on to a more sedate tune. Meanwhile, her companion shrugged into his coat and then resumed what she assumed was his postflight inspection of his floating machine.

“You are cold,” he said when he completed his work. “And I have already made you miss your kiss at midnight.”

“I have missed nothing of the sort.”

“Perhaps you have not, but I guarantee that whichever of the fellows on your dance card who had been planning on taking that honor likely thinks he has.”

Sir William would wonder where she had gone, but he was not the one she was concerned about. She thought of her father and what she
would say when he demanded an answer to her lengthy absence this evening.

The dark balloon bobbed above the stranger’s head as he looked down at her. Slowly a grin lifted the corners of his lips.

“What is so funny?” she demanded.

“Oh, nothing.” He shook his head. “I am just wondering why a woman as pretty and intelligent as you seems reluctant to go down and rejoin the ball she ran away from.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know—”

“That this was the party you had come from?” He paused to give her a sweeping glance. “I didn’t until you just admitted it, though I had my suspicions.”

“Oh!” Millie turned on her heel and headed toward the center of the roof. Surely there would be a door somewhere. Then she stopped short. What was she doing?

“Change your mind?” he called.

She fixed him with a glare but said nothing.

“Now you have got me curious. What did you do? Break a man’s heart? Or maybe you were in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel and ran off before he could fetch you back?”

Millie ignored him.

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Go get that New Year’s kiss, my society scientist,” he told her when he settled back into his harness and belt.

“And if he does not want to kiss me? Then what?”

“Then he is a fool.”

She smiled. “Actually,
I
am the fool.”

“Because you chose to go flying with me?” he asked as he reached into his coat and pulled out his notebook and a pen.

“No,” she responded, emboldened. “Because I am glad I did not get that midnight kiss.”

“Is that so?” He continued to scribble in his notebook. “Not fond of kissing, are you?”

“I like kissing just fine—” She bit back the remainder of her statement. “I have said too much. I will just let you fly away to wherever you are headed next.”

The stranger shrugged out of the shoulder straps that connected him to the pack on his back. “My flying is done for tonight,” he said as he reached
to yank the balloon down within reach. “I don’t have enough fuel to power the system after our adventure.”

“Oh, I am sorry.”

“Don’t be.” As he toyed with instruments in the pack, the balloon began to deflate. “This is where I was planning to sleep tonight.”

“At the Peabody?”

Another grin. Oh, how handsome he was when he smiled like that. “Well, yes. You do not think I chose to land here by chance, do you?”

“I guess I...” A chill wind blew across her neck and made her shiver. “I guess this is where we part ways then. I will just leave you to your...” Her gaze swept the device and then returned to his eyes. “To whatever it is you do after you fly that thing.”

He had the audacity to wink. “All right. Enjoy your evening.”

It was her turn to smile. “I did, thank you,” she said as she left him to walk toward the exit.

“Hey there,” her companion called just as she opened the door.

Slowly Millie turned to see he had paused in the process of dismantling the flying device. “Yes?”

“About that New Year’s Eve kiss?”

An odd thrill of something unfamiliar and yet quite nice jolted her. “What about it?”

“I owe you one.”

Oh, my.
His return to work told Millie no answer was expected, and that was just as well, for she had no idea what she might have said.

Instead, she fumbled her way down the dark stairwell to pause at the bottom landing. She must look a fright, but there was little remedy for it.

The wind had wreaked havoc on her hair, so she made an attempt at returning the pins to their proper places. Then, despairing of the project, she shrugged out of her coat, intending to fetch it back later, and turned the doorknob to emerge into the hall. A moment later, she steeled her spine and walked into the ballroom as if she had never left.

“There you are.”

Oh, no.
Millie pasted on a smile and then slowly turned toward the sound of his voice. “Hello, Father.”

Though no longer a young man, Silas Cope, when dressed in his best
formal attire, was still a handsome man. At least society ladies thought so, as witnessed by the attentive Mrs. Ward-Wiggins, who smiled up at him and kept a tight grip on his arm. Her Parisian gown and the sapphires at her ears and neck had definitely caught Father’s eye.

“Did you and Trueck enjoy your stroll?” he asked as his fingers absently stroked the young widow’s gloved hand.

“Actually—”

“We had a wonderful stroll, did we not, darling?” Sir William edged up beside her looking far too handsome for his own good. As their gazes met, he had the audacity to wink.

From the cut of his coat to the shine on his shoes and the crest on his gold ring, there was no doubt the Englishman was of the nobility, a fact that never failed to remind Millie she was not.

But she would not lie, even if her fiancé allowed for it. Nor would she continue the conversation unless forced to. Silence, her faithful friend, served her well. She met her father’s gaze and simply smiled.

Father muttered something likely meant to serve as parting words before ushering his companion away. Millie watched her father disappear into the crowd with a mixture of relief and disappointment.

Being invisible to her father had its advantages, especially on a night when she had escaped the ball to fly away—literally. She suppressed a sigh. She must learn to be more careful.

Sir William pressed his palm to her back and gently urged her forward. “We should dance, Mildred,” he said, his breath warm against her ear, “lest anyone suspect we have not been together this past hour.”

“Wouldn’t it be best if we were not suspected of such a thing, Sir William?”

He whirled her around to assume the correct position for dancing the waltz and then fitted them into the already crowded swirl of dancers.

“I think a couple on the verge of marriage might find it difficult to cause more than an uplifted eyebrow or two should they seek a bit of privacy.” He paused to sweep the length of her with his warm gaze. “Or are things different here in Memphis?”

“Maybe they are. Would you be gossiped about back in England for that kind of behavior?”

Her fiancé smiled. “Back in England I would be envied.” He paused to twirl her around and then his smile faded. “Where were you, Mildred?”

The swift change of response stunned her. Thankfully, the press of dancers around them prevented intimate conversation.

When William maneuvered them past the crowd and onto a less populated section of the dance floor, Millie knew she must say something.

“I went out for some air.” The truth, and much nicer than admitting that the thought of their engagement announcement had nearly stifled her.

“I see.” Again he deftly whirled her about. “Who is he?”

His question stunned her as much for his accuracy in guessing that she had not been alone as for the icy tone he had so swiftly and easily adapted.

“There is no ‘he,’” she said evenly. “I went out for air.”

Millie met his stare and tried to decide if he had seen her on the roof. No, she deduced. The Englishman had no idea she had been flying around Memphis just moments ago.

“As you can imagine,” she continued. “I am about to embark on an undertaking that will require many changes. I confess to feeling a bit overwhelmed with it all.”

“So I am an undertaking, am I?” Sir William’s tone was light again, almost teasing. “Yes, I suppose my mother would agree. If she were alive she would have adored you, though she might wonder why you would agree to take me on.” He glanced around the room and returned his attention to the woman in his arms. “Likely many of your friends here would feel the same.”

“So the announcement was made?”

“Your father hinted at an upcoming announcement during his remarks prior to the midnight hour, though he did not specify what that might be.”

“I see.” When the music ended, Millie allowed him to escort her away from the dance floor. “Why don’t I fetch you something to drink?”

“Yes, please,” she said as she spied Father chatting with his lady friend near the windows.

Perhaps now was the time for a discussion. She made her way in that direction and then stopped short when she saw her aviator friend watching her from the door.

Kyle could not help himself. He had to peek in on the beautiful society scientist and her ball before returning to his room for the night. But now he was good and caught.

Acting as if he had intended for her to see him, he shed his coat and hat and made his way across the room to offer a curt bow. “May I have this dance?”

With an almost desperate glance at an older couple too deep in conversation to notice anyone else in the room, she nodded. Her expression evened out and the beginning of a smile dawned, likely meant for anyone watching and not actually for him.

“What
are
you doing here?” she muttered as she allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.

The band was doing a passable job of playing one of Chopin’s lesser-known waltzes, so a quick spin around the floor seemed completely harmless. But with one look into those beautiful brown eyes, Kyle knew there was nothing harmless about this woman. What had not been revealed in the starlight was absolutely plain under the chandeliers in the ballroom. The society scientist with the adventurous streak was stunning.

And quite a dancer.

“Just passing by, actually,” he said. True enough. “I thought I would see what was so awful about this party that caused you to flee.”

“I did not
flee
.” Her desperate glance around the room told him she had something to fear. Or someone. His Pinkerton training had him looking around the ballroom for the source of her angst.

A fair-haired fellow carrying two glasses of punch stopped short to stare openly. Something about him looked familiar, but before Kyle could figure where he had seen the man before, he disappeared into the crowd.

No one else paid her any attention. Though she seemed uncomfortable, Kyle could see no discernable threat.

The song ended before he realized his flying companion had danced him almost to the exit. While the others applauded the
orchestra, the lovely lady yanked him out the door and into the passageway.