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At one end of the clearing, Mr. Davies held court with a small crowd gathered. His red envelope seemed garish in the soft morning light, but then she dismissed him from her mind, for the whole of her attention rested on a magnificent peridot-hued balloon, nearly inflated. Matthew tinkered with the pipes where the hydrogen passed while she walked toward it. The color was marvelous, and her heart gave a mighty thump when she realized it matched the gown she’d worn to the viscount’s fete six weeks ago.
The closer she came, the more details were revealed. Her breath caught when she saw the golden thread that had been woven through the rope netting that held the silk envelope. Gold paint highlighted the decorative edges of the gondola; everything sparkled and shimmered in the sun. But the most remarkable detail of all was the man standing in front of the basket, clad in an outfit apparently inspired after the one she wore.
Heated tingles danced up and down her spine. “Oh, dear God,” she whispered while she devoured Benedict with her gaze.
A brown superfine jacket stretched over the breadth of his shoulders, showing them to top perfection, while a lighter brown leather waistcoat and fine lawn shirt beneath called her attention to the flat plains of his stomach and abdomen. Fawn breeches hugged his legs like a lover’s lingering caress. Brown leather boots completed the ensemble, but it was the tentative grin curving his sensuous mouth that had her heart fluttering behind her ribs and her throat growing dry. In one hand he held a pair of leatherbound goggles. How would they fit over his spectacles? He also held a hat much like hers.
“Benedict.” He’d come when he didn’t have to. Though he’d financed the balloon, he’d come out anyway even though the last time they’d seen each other had been a less than happy moment.
A decent crowd had formed, buzzing with excited chatter and cheerful laughter. She hadn’t realized it as she stared at the viscount. He looked back, his expression unreadable, but that grin never once faded. At some point, he shrugged as if saying, “How could I stay away?” Before Anne could respond or even think of a response, Lady Worthington reached her side and latched onto her arm.
“Well, what do you think of my boy?” Amusement threaded through her voice. “He’s decent enough when he’s not clinging to tradition, eh?”
“He’s wonderful,” she said in a barely audible whisper. “But why is he here at all, and dressed like that? I don’t understand.”
The older woman snorted. “Then you don’t know Benedict very well.” She prodded Anne’s shoulder. “Best go talk to him, dear. He’s made significant changes while you’ve been apart.”
“Oh?” Her stomach muscles tightened.
“Yes. That man has examined himself quite thoroughly, unearthed flaws and fears so he can conquer them one by one. He’s turned Worthington Hall inside out with renovation projects to modernize everything and has had numerous men—and women—he admires to visit merely to talk and offer advice.”
“I see.” Anne peered more closely at the viscount. Pride filled her chest. Then she gasped. “He hasn’t shaved this morning.” The shadow of brown whiskers clung to his jaw and chin… and it was one of the most erotic pictures she’d ever seen. Wisps of heat curled deep through her body. What would that friction feel like against her skin?
“I imagine not, dearie.” The dowager chuckled. “Benedict left home last night with your groom for final preparations. They’ve both worked tirelessly on this project, and at least in my son’s case, he won’t rest until you’ve succeeded in this dream.”
“I… I don’t know what to say,” she whispered as tears crowded into her throat.
“I’m sure you’ll find the words.” Lady Worthington gave her a little shove in Benedict’s direction. “Go meet your destiny and know it’ll be even better with him by your side.”
A wave of cold panic rose in her chest. “I can’t. I don’t know how to…” She’d turned down his second proposal of marriage out of fear because things between them had happened too fast, had grown too big that the outcome of said connection had terrified her.
But now… seeing him again, having him here felt… right.
The dowager poked her shoulder. “You do and you will.” She came into Anne’s sightline and winked. “Don’t you think he’s waited long enough? If that doesn’t show you his devotion, you aren’t the woman I thought you were.”
“Right.” Anne slowly walked toward Benedict’s position while drawing a deep, calming breath into her lungs and letting it ease out in an effort to calm her frantic heartbeat. A small brass plate had been fastened to the balloon’s basket near his left ear that read, “Fearless Anne.”
The wonderful man had named the craft after her. Butterflies awoke in her belly and fluttered like mad.
“Good morning, Benedict.” What a superbly stupid thing to say after he’d given her so much. Despite their time apart, despite the words they’d each said the last time they’d talked, despite her own doubts and fears, she wanted this man with a fierceness that prowled her insides and tried to steal her breath.
“Good morning, Anne. You’re looking well.”
“Thank you. As do you.” She wanted to scream in frustration, for these polite niceties weren’t needed between them. “What are you doing here?”
Really, Anne, have you no brains in your head that you can’t ask a better question?
The grin he flashed had the power to weaken her knees. “Preparing to break a record with the most fearless woman I know—as her assistant.”
Merciful heavens, he intended to accompany her on this flight. She pressed a hand to her middle where the need to retch made itself known. “My assistant.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, isn’t that you called me the first day we met?”
“It is, but I’d rather you take the promotion to my partner. Are we not equals in this venture?”
He crushed the hat and goggles in his hand before tossing them into the balloon’s basket. “Perhaps, but for this endeavor, I’m gladly giving you the lead; in this you’ll have all the accolades and attention. I’m but for support only.”
“Oh, Benedict.” Was there a more amazing man?
