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The long, thick snake of the tethering rope dangled below like a great tail. Anchored to a stake in the ground, it would hold, with Matthew monitoring the situation the whole time.
When next she glanced over at her companion, he had his eyes tightly closed behind the lenses of his spectacles. Anne shook her head and hoped he’d conquer his fear.
“If you’re interested, my balloon, or as some folks call it, the envelope, is made of silk sheets varnished with rubber that has been dissolved in turpentine. This process makes the silk airtight. It’s quite ingenious, really.”
He popped one of his eyes open and then other one followed suit. “From your own design?”
“Oh, no.” She laughed, and the sensation of her belly dropping tickled through her body as it always did when she ascended into the skies. “This was discovered at least fifty years before.” When one of his eyebrows elevated, she nodded. “Yes, people have been fascinated with flying via hot-air balloons for a while.”
“I had no idea.”
“Because you never look up, eh Worthington?” she couldn’t help teasing. When he grunted, she continued. “Hydrogen fills the envelope through a series of tubes connected to cannisters of the stuff. Matthew handles that side of it for me.”
“Where do you come by hydrogen?”
“We make it by pouring sulphuric acid—also made by us—over scrap iron. Lead pipes feed it into the balloon. Takes about an hour, but coming by enough scrap iron is an issue.”
He relaxed the hand clutching the basket by increments. “I can probably procure you some should you need it. Be certain to give me enough lead time.”
“Marvelous!” I knew letting him onto my team wasn’t a mistake. “Sunrise and sunset are the best times for flights, since the ambient air temperatures are steady and at their best. Once night falls and the air cools, the balloon sinks too much, and no amount of dropping ballast—sandbags—will keep you airborne.”
“There is certainly much to learn about the craft.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” She pointed above her head. “Matthew and I installed a venting valve to this iron rigging,” she indicated a ring that the edges of the balloon were secured to, “in order to let out some of the hydrogen, or as some people call it, lifting gas. Too much venting means the balloon will deflate too quickly and that will ensure a crash landing.”
“Is that what happened to you the morning we met?” He straightened his back as she’d talked and seemed more at ease now.
“Yes. I’d gotten too excited about the distance covered and came down too fast. By the time I went to correct the problem, there wasn’t enough hydrogen left in the envelope.”
When the basket lurched, he groaned and went back to clutching the sides as if for dear life.
“Easy, Worthington, it merely means we’ve reached the end of the tether. It’s holding firm, thanks to Matthew’s skill with knots.” She peered over the edge of the basket. They were probably seventy-five to one hundred yards off the ground. “Honestly, if you fell from this baby height, you might break a few bones, but you’d live.”
“Bloody hell.” Once more he closed his eyes. A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead and upper lip.
Poor thing. What had happened in his life to make him so fearful? She didn’t know, but she wanted to. Then, she squealed in delight, which brought his eyes popping open. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“What?”
She huffed out a breath. “The world! This is one of my favorite parts of ballooning.” With a gloved hand, she gestured around them. “Just look.” The rays of the rising summer sun gave the fields and trees, whole swathes of landscape a hearty gilding. Everywhere she peered had been touched by gold. On the horizon, that same light turned large fluffy clouds to pastel colors of pinks, purples, and blues. “If I had to describe heaven, it would look like this.”
“I’ll take your word for it, but at the moment, I’m trying hard not to cast up my accounts.”
“Well, if you retch, have a care to do it outside the basket and hang onto your spectacles. I have a feeling you can’t see without them.”
“I cannot.” A tiny smile flirted with his lips. Perhaps talking of something else would take his mind off the flight. “My father always told me that my penchant for reading by candlelight at night would ruin my eyes. Perhaps he was right, or perhaps this is merely how I was made.” He looked at her from over the tops of the rims. “I can’t see past the end of my nose.”
“Then by all means, don’t lose them, for the scenery is gorgeous.” On impulse, Anne took one of his hands and held it. When he grasped her fingers tightly, she smiled. His obvious terror tugged at her chest. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Lord Worthington.”
“Sure, because we’re tethered.”
“No, even if we weren’t. Balloon travel is a safe method of conveyance.” He was rather adorable as he tried to hide his fear, but his clenched knuckles and tight jaw gave him away.
“Benedict,” he said in a gasping sort of whisper.
“Beg your pardon?”
“Call me Benedict. We are beyond proper manners and social customs at this point.”
