Page 10 of Isabel and the Rogue

Her shoulders lifted once again, the action stiff and almost defensive. “Because he wouldn’t be attending. He only ever allowed us to attend events if being seen benefited him.”

Fox had mentioned that Mr. Luna, Isabel’s father, had been a demanding and difficult parent. Sirius had not really considered what that meant until this moment, but the dejected wilt to Isabel’s frame set his teeth on edge. He had not had much of a relationship with his own father, the late earl never finding interest in his spare. His apathy had stung, but now Sirius wondered if apathy was the better alternative to the casual cruelness Isabel suffered.

Clearing his throat, he waved his hand at the landscape below, mindful not to shift his weight. “Well, it is a good thing he’s not here now, or else you would not have been able to go on this adventure.”

“Adventure?” Isabel slowly raised her head and gingerly looked at the scenery beyond the basket. Sirius estimated they were about twenty-five to thirty feet above the ground, a considerable height, and yet he was thankful they had not risen further. “I will endeavor to look at this as an adventure and not a terror-inducing disaster.”

A grin overtook his face, and a smidge of triumph settled in his chest when Isabel’s irises widened. “There’s that indomitable spirit I’ve come to know you for. I knew it wouldn’t stay away for long.”

“Indomitable? It’s a word I’ve heard used to describe my father.” Pink swept across her cheeks. “But…I quite like that you used it to describe me. I would never have dreamed there was an association.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I am here to inform you.” Sirius tilted his head as he stared down at her. “Are you feeling better?”

Isabel nodded, her gaze darting to the ground below for only a second. “It helps that we haven’t risen higher. And Mr. Thompson said they purposely didn’t bring enough hydrogen for manned flights, so even if the tethers did not hold, we wouldn’t soar for long.”

“Mr. Thompson is the balloon engineer?” At her nod, Sirius looked over the side of the basket. “It appears he has all the tethers secured, so I imagine he and his men will be hauling us down soon enough.”

Sirius turned back to her, curious to find Isabel considering him with her lip tucked between her teeth. He raised his brow in question, and she quickly looked away.

“I find myself surprised that you’re here. A balloon exhibition doesn’t seem like the sort of entertainment you’d favor.”

“I confess that I’ve never given much thought to aeronautical balloons, but now that I have a front-row view of the contraption”—Sirius tipped his head back to stare at the underbelly of the envelope—“I can see why you find them so interesting.”

A shy smile flitted over her face.

“I was invited by a friend to attend. And since it was sunny and the air crisp, it seemed an ideal outing for a spring morning.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “And now look at me. High above the ground with a view of London most people will never see.”

Isabel shifted her gaze from his to scan the horizon. “I suppose you’re right. This vantage point is ideal. Rather breathtaking, really.”

Sirius didn’t know what changed. But in that instant, being this close to her, with the breeze sending strands of black hair against her cheeks and her vanilla scent to his nose, her expression relaxed and open in ways she had never been with him, Isabel Luna was stunningly beautiful. And damn if that didn’t set him back on his heels.

“Breathtaking, indeed.”

• • •

While her flight above London was over within twenty minutes, Isabel still felt as if the world had tilted.

And it was all thanks to Captain Dawson.

Isabel had been looking forward to the exhibition for weeks. Ever since her father had denied her the opportunity to attend a similar event all those years before, she had been fascinated by the machines, with their colorful envelopes. Mr. Thompson had immediately noticed her interest in the burner, and had been more than happy to discuss the mechanics of it. In fact, he had entertained all of Isabel’s questions, his demeanor friendly and open, with none of the impatience she usually encountered when she showcased her curiosity in something. Isabel was grateful.

After a time, though, he had been called away, and Isabel was left to admire the balloon and reflect upon the things she’d learned about its construction. That was until the crowd swelled around her, and she had been forced to seek refuge in the basket to escape being crushed. Or so she thought—until the binds anchoring the basket to the ground were pulled free in the rush of bodies.

Suddenly the only sound Isabel heard was the pounding of her own heart. It roared in her ears as the basket pitched back and forth; the creak of the ropes as they strained against the push of the crowd was like cracks of thunder, and Isabel’s lungs refused to draw in breath. Her knees threatened to buckle, and she clutched the basket, unsure of what to do when she had seen Captain Dawson’s head above the crowd. Before she had time to blink, he was in the basket with her as it lurched and jerked into the air.

It had been terrifying…and yet Isabel knew Captain Dawson would keep her safe because he’d done so before when she’d been a guest at Dancourt Abbey.

And he had again. Contrary to their usual barbed animosity, the captain had been gentle with her. He didn’t tease her for her fear of heights or scold her for finding herself in such a predicament. He had called her indomitable, and despite the harrowing situation, he had made her feel as such.

Now as she stood next to him, staring blindly at the rainbow-colored canopy above them, Isabel pondered what to say. A thank-you seemed so inadequate, and yet how else could she express her gratitude? How Isabel wished she weren’t so awkward.

Straightening her spine, Isabel turned on her heel to face him, waiting a heartbeat for him to meet her gaze.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her throat dry. “I’m grateful to you for—”

“There you are, Dawson. Whatever happened to you?”

Isabel flinched, jerking her head to the side to spy Baroness Needham walking toward them, her green eyes bouncing between her and Dawson. It took every bit of pride not to slink away. Lady Needham had a reputation for being cutting and catty. It would be one thing to endure the older woman’s slights when in Gabby’s company, for her younger sister’s sharp tongue had no match, but to weather the insults alone or, worse, in Dawson’s presence…