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“And who could blame him?” Her father bustled into the drawing room while shaking a newspaper. “You keep landing into scandal, perpetuated through the papers, and putting black marks against the family name.” Again, he rattled the paper as he leveled his glared on her. “What did I tell you” I want you to give this ballooning nonsense.”
“For what reason this time?” But she knew as she eyed the newspaper clutched in his hand.
“This, hard on the heels of how you treated Mr. Davies last night.” Her father threw the paper in her direction as he dropped onto the low sofa beside his wife.
“Drat.” Anne retrieved some of the scattered sheets from the floor. The article in question wasn’t difficult to find, for the headline fairly screamed an accusation.
Doverton’s Daughter Lashes Out in Hysterics.
“I was hardly in hysterics, but I was angry, with good reason,” she huffed beneath her breath as she scanned the article.
Oh, Mr. Davies was infuriating! “How dare he belittle me so blatantly!”
…despite numerous setbacks and failures, it seems Lady Anne can’t accept defeat with grace, even when common sense stares her in the face. If she wishes to gather the remainder of her reputation about her, she’ll give up the ridiculous notion of continuing to pilot her balloon and leave the sport to men who know how to conduct it better. This reporter begins to wonder if marriage would even mellow out her streak of insanity. What say you, fellows in London? Anyone daring enough to take on that tangled mess she represents?
She balled the newspaper page between her hands as her heartbeat raced through her veins. “Bah. Mr. Davies doesn’t know the truth about why I do what I do.” She glanced at her father. “Can you not sue him for libel? What he says is preposterous and damaging to all of us.”
Her father snorted. “I can hardly sue if what he says is true.” He shook his head. Anger roiled in his eyes. “I’m beginning to wonder at the state of your mental health, Anne. You’ve shown us time and time again you haven’t been right in your upper stories for a few years.”
“Et tu, Brute?” she asked softly beneath her breath. Through her bodice, she touched her fingers to her brother’s compass, the piece she wore always. The slight weight of the brass bauble rested between her breasts, an ever-present reminder that she’d caused her brother’s death, and nothing would bring him back. “Mr. Davies is insufferable. You know this.” Besides, he must feel a tad threatened if he worked so tirelessly to make her give up on her balloon.
Well, I refuse to let him win.
Her father’s face reddened. “I demand you cease this confounded idiocy immediately, Anne.” His voice rose with each word until her mother laid a hand upon his arm and offered him a saucer loaded with tea cakes, which he took grudgingly. “Your irresponsibility already saw your brother killed. Do you seek to join him?”
A wave of grief plowed into her so powerful that she caught her breath. No matter that it had been nearly three years, she would never become accustomed to Aaron’s loss. She blinked away the tears that filled her eyes. “No, I want to make his memory proud and continue his work, to show him—to show you and Mama—that I can do this. That he didn’t die in vain.” Her voice broke on the last word. Why couldn’t they understand? “And this,” she shook the wadded newspaper, “doesn’t help my cause.”
“You brought that on yourself with your wild behavior,” her father said. His eyes were as hard as glass.
Anne swallowed hard around the ball of tears lodged in her throat. This was the beginning of the end to her ballooning career if she didn’t do something and soon. “You’d rather I submit docilely to your plans of being a proper ton lady so you can marry me off to whatever man will make you the best deal?”
Her father’s expression softened slightly. “I’m not the tyrant you assume. I only want you settled, to try your hand as a mother so I can have grandchildren.”
“I know, and I’m proving a disappointment in that regard,” she whispered as knots pulled in her belly. “But I am not a head of cattle. I’m a woman with my own my life, a brain that has superior thoughts, and dreams that can change British history. None of that will come to fruition if you push me into marriage or consign me to an ordinary life.”
“What you do is dangerous and stupid.” He thumped a fist upon a knee. “I’ve already lost one child. I refuse to leave that fate to the other. Please listen to me and do what’s proper.”
Tears again sprang into her eyes. This time she didn’t try to stop them. “I want to make you proud, Papa, but I’d really like your support in what will make me proud too.” For long moments she stared at her father.
Then her mother sighed. “Dear, perhaps you should go have a lie down. You’ll feel more like yourself after a few hours of rest. Then we’ll dress for dinner, and you can don one of your new gowns. Your father has invited a few friends….”
The remainder of her mother’s speech faded away. Near tears, Anne nodded. It was easier to submit to their wishes than to fight for her own.
For the moment.
“Perhaps you’re right. I am a bit fatigued.” To say nothing of the few bruises that still smarted on her arm and hip from the crash landing of yesterday. Letting the remainder of the newspaper flutter to the floor, she stood. “Excuse me.”
She left the drawing room and went upstairs but it wasn’t to lie down. Dismissing her maid with the assurance she’d probably drop off into a nap rather quickly, she stuffed the wadded newspaper page into her reticule, and then frantically threw odds and ends into a brocade valise along with unmentionables and a couple of her new gowns. They were pretty enough, and she did enjoy presenting herself in the best light whenever possible. Then she opened one of the windows and tossed down her bag. She then ducked out and onto the outcropping of roof. Balancing on the balls of her feet, she reached for the rope ladder she kept hidden against the side of the manor house. Seconds later, she’d scrambled down the makeshift escape and tumbled onto her arse without dignity.
But she was free.
After grabbing her bag, she sneaked into the stables and approached Matthew where he brushed one of the horses. “I need to travel immediately to Cranleigh with the balloon. Will you help me?” It was either the stupidest gamble or the greatest, but she’d recognized the note of command in the viscount’s voice yesterday, had seen how orderly and calm he’d been once his initial anger and annoyance had spent. She needed a calming rudder like that on her team.
And this was the last chance she had to make a run at her dreams. If she failed, only then would she submit to her parents’ wishes without complaint, but she wanted this one last chance to try and succeed.
The groom nodded and flashed her a grin. “Of course, my lady.”
“You mustn’t tell anyone.” She quickly glanced about the area, but they were the only humans in evidence. “We’ll leave as soon as you can pack a bag and put the hydrogen tubes and other equipment into the wagon.”
