Page 53 of Just a Little Daring

August paused, still scanning the crowds as he spoke. “She’s a pretty blonde, rather petite with blue eyes, though she is fond of disguises, so she could appear to be anything from a flower seller to a dandy.”

“A dandy?” Vivien repeated, wide-eyed and finding herself increasingly in awe of his sister.

“On one memorably terrifying occasion, yes,” August said, his expression grim. “Where the devil would the wretched girl go?”

“Everyone is watching the balloon,” Viv offered.

August nodded and took her hand before pausing. “Hell, you ought not be here alone with me. I didn’t stop to think. A ride in Hyde Park is one thing, but—”

Vivien smiled and pressed a finger to his lips. “Do stop fretting,” she chided him gently. “Let us find your diabolical sister.”

He let out a breath and nodded. “Yes. All right, then.”

Little by little, August elbowed his way through the crowd to the front, Vivien following close behind him. By the time they emerged, she was quite breathless. The sturdy rail kept the crowd away from the balloon itself and Viv leaned upon it with relief. It was an impressive scene, the vast balloon only a part of the spectacle, for behind it on enormous rollers turned a huge motorised panoramic backdrop of the balloon’s most famous and record-breaking flight. The scene painted on a moving canvas roll depicted the voyage from Vauxhall, over the Channel, across France and Germany, with the descent near Weilburg. Viv stared at it in wonder, unable to comprehend the desire to undertake such a journey, let alone the how they had contrived to achieve it.

“Viv?”

She turned in surprise to see Evie by her side.

“Evie! What a surprise.”

“Papa loves balloons, or any new form of fast travel,” Evie explained, as her father gave Viv a polite bow. Lady Helena held his arm, looking as exquisitely elegant as always.

“Good afternoon, Mr Knight, Lady Helena.” Vivien bowed and introduced August to them, who said everything that was proper but was clearly a little distracted.

“We’re looking for Mr Lane-Fox’s sister,” Vivien said, explaining his disquiet. “We appear to have misplaced her.”

Mr Knight’s expression became grave. “You may safely leave Miss Anson with us, Mr Lane-Fox, if you would like to carry on your search in the, er… other areas of the fete? If your sister has wandered off, she might have inadvertently stumbled upon the less salubrious side of such an event. I am at your disposal, should you wish for help.”

“You are most kind,” August said sincerely. “And I shall accept your offer of chaperonage for Miss Anson while I continue my search. My sister is not a child, and in all honesty, I fear for anyone thinking to take advantage of her, for she is a formidable young woman. However, I am concerned and… if you’ll excuse me. Miss Anson, if you could keep an eye out here, I should be grateful.”

“Of course,” Viv replied, too aware of the worry in his eyes to complain about being abandoned. Evie took her arm as she watched him hurry away.

“Papa knows the fellow doing the balloon ascension, and he has offered us a closer look,” Evie said, grinning at her. “We can even get in the gondola. That’s what the bit they stand in is called, apparently.”

Vivien turned back to frown at the gondola. The idea of going miles up into the sky in a construction like that with nothing but an enormous balloon to hold one up… her stomach turned a somersault.

“How nice,” she said faintly.

“Well, he takes passengers, you know,” Evie said, winking at her. “And what was it your dare said?”

“Lud!” Vivien exclaimed in horror. “You think… in that?”

Evie laughed, shrugging. Dare to reach great heights. You’ll not get much higher than in a balloon, but no, of course not if it frightens you. I thought it would me too, honestly, and it does, but… but I’m intrigued. Imagine being up that high, seeing what only the birds see. How magical that must be.”

“Ah, indeed, it is magical. Like seeing through the eyes of God,” said a jovial voice behind them. “Mr Charles Green, balloonist, at your service.”

Chapter 17

Nic,

I have had the strangest sensation of late. I cannot put my finger on it, but I sense I am being watched, perhaps followed.

Tell me I am being paranoid.

―Excerpt of a letter from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen to his brother, Monsieur Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau.. Translated from French.

22nd April 1841, The Royal Gardens, Vauxhall, London.