Isabel and the Rogue

Chapter 3

Sirius had not thought aeronautical balloons particularly interesting until he saw Isabel Luna staring up at a rainbow-patterned envelope with her mouth ajar.

The June sun beat down on the crowd gathered in Hyde Park to watch the ascent of three colorful hydrogen balloons owned by French brothers who traveled throughout Europe showcasing their engineering marvels. It was also the reason why Lieutenant Colonel Green deemed it necessary for Sirius to attend for the demonstration. And even without those express orders, Viscount Westhope had asked Sirius if he planned to attend the exhibit during their billiards game the day prior. Not one to let an opportunity slip by him, Sirius had nodded in the affirmative.

Encountering Miss Luna in attendance should not have been a surprise, considering her inquisitive nature. His lips curled up as he took in her curious expression, but Sirius did not approach her. He was here on business and had no time to exchange antagonistic volleys with her.

Linking his hands behind his back, Sirius wandered through the crowd, greeting friends and acquaintances taking in the colorful sights. Many expressed surprise to see him at such an event, and Sirius worked not to bristle. His carefree facade was of his own making and served an important purpose, but it was becoming harder not to resent his own reputation.

Sirius skirted around the perimeter of the gathering, his eyes darting about for a glimpse of Viscount Westhope. His search was halted, though, when a feminine hand grasped his arm. Even through his coat, Sirius felt nails sink into his bicep.

“Captain Dawson, what a delight it is to see you here today.”

A flirtatious smile had settled on his lips before he even pivoted about. “Lady Needham, I assure you it’s me who’s delighted to encounter you here. I had no notion you had an interest in aeronautical balloons.”

The pretty blonde dipped her head, the flowers on her fashionable hat complementing the color of her cheeks. The widowed baroness was adept at playing shy and bashful, though Sirius knew her to be anything but.

“Surely you remember how much I enjoy trying new things,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.

Christ, that husky tone used to have a direct line to his cock. Emily, Lady Needham, knew that, if the taunting smirk on her full pink lips was any indication. But now, Sirius felt more annoyance than arousal.

Gritting his teeth, Sirius gestured to the balloon that sat in the grass several yards away. “Are you enjoying the exhibit?”

“I am now,” the baroness crooned, pressing her curvy, perfumed body into his side.

“Goodness, your ladyship, you’re much more friendly today than you were the other night at the Meadows ball.” Sirius patted her hand. “I seem to recall you being quite peeved with me.”

“Well, of course I was upset with you. You abandoned me when we were supposed to share a waltz.” She pouted, her lips twisting into a perfect moue. “You know how I hate being teased.”

Sirius scoffed, his roguish facade slipping for a moment. “You only hate teasing when it’s not you who’s doing the teasing.”

Lady Needham narrowed her eyes. “You’ve never spoken to me that way before.”

“I suppose I haven’t.” He leaned down to murmur in her ear, “But then you know you deserve it.”

Her grip on his arm tightened as she purred, “And what are you going to do to punish me?”

Despite opening his mouth to respond, the words died on his tongue, for at that moment his eyes snagged on the unlikely sight of Isabel Luna tossing her head back in laughter. A frown overtook his face, and Sirius blinked several times, uncertain if what he was seeing was real.

Had he ever seen her laugh? Surely with her sisters, at some point or another. Certainly not with him. He frowned as his mind raced through his memories of the time she spent at Dancourt Abbey. Isabel had appeared to go out of her way to avoid him, but there were occasions in which they had encountered each other in his library, and discussed the books they were reading. She had also recommended several possible additions to his collection, and he had recommended some of his own to her. But try as he might, Sirius could not remember making her laugh. Or smile. And now, as he noted the raspy quality of Isabel’s laughter, why did that seem like a great loss?

Isabel appeared to be in deep conversation with a gentleman in an ornate suit, a fancy beaver hat perched on his head. The man was standing next to one of the balloon baskets, and he used his gold-lion-topped cane to point up at the balloon canopy, Isabel enthusiastically nodding her dark head at his words. While Sirius watched, the man opened the basket door and invited Isabel aboard, where he continued to point out various components of the hydrogen release valve.

“Will you come by this evening? I should be free after eleven o’clock.”

Sirius glanced at Lady Needham with his brows raised. “I beg your pardon.”

The baroness smacked his arm with her reticule. “Sirius, darling, whatever has you so distracted?”

“The balloons.” He gestured to the various exhibits surrounding them. Sirius allowed his gaze to touch on Isabel for a passing moment. Is she going up for a ride? Surely that is unsafe.

“I would think talk of spending the evening together would be more interesting to you.”

Sirius locked his teeth to contain a sigh. At a point in the past, Lady Needham had been his mark, as her late husband had been suspected of smuggling various goods to and from his estate in Cornwall. After the baron’s death, Sirius continued to meet with Lady Needham from time to time, for her demands of him were simple and enjoyable.

But his interest and patience for her had waned.

Taking a moment to clear his throat, Sirius affixed an easy smile to his lips. “Unfortunately I have plans this evening.”

Huffing, Lady Needham asked, “What could you possibly be doing that will be more enjoyable than spending the night with me?”

Sirius intended to spend the evening reviewing the ledgers from Dancourt Abbey and sending letters to his steward and some of the men who now made the abbey their home. He’d also managed to secure the translated version of Dostoevsky’s latest novel, something Sirius had been patiently waiting on because his Russian was atrocious. Nothing sounded better than relaxing in his study with a dram and a good book.

But Sirius had no intention of sharing this with Lady Needham.

Instead, he shrugged, smothering a snort when he noticed how the baroness’s eyes danced along the breadth of his shoulders. “I will be enjoying dinner with friends.”

A familiar face appeared in the crowd, and Sirius snapped to attention. There was Westhope, exactly the man he had hoped to see.

Inclining his head, he flashed Lady Needham a bright smile. “If you will excuse me, my lady, I see a friend I’d like to greet.”

The baroness glanced in the direction he had been looking, her hand coming up to shield her eyes from the sun. “Do you mean Lord Westhope? I’ll greet him with you.”

Irritation flashed hot in his veins, and Sirius nodded tightly. Extending his hand for Lady Needham to precede him, Sirius fell into step behind her, doing his best not to scowl.

That was until he heard a muted shriek. Sirius had no notion how he even heard it above the din, but he turned his head in time to see that the swell of the crowd had inadvertently jostled loose the tethers that secured one of the balloons. Now the basket rocked to and fro, the dark-haired young woman inside it grasping the wicker lip like a lifeline. In the pause of one heartbeat, her terror-filled eyes met his, and Sirius’s heart spasmed when he realized it was Isabel.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Sirius sprinted to her, his gaze not releasing its hold on hers. The basket now floated several feet above the ground, and Isabel’s normally tawny complexion was pale.

“Miss Luna,” Sirius called as he pushed and shoved his way through the crush surrounding the basket. When his hands curled around the basket lip, he hoisted himself inside, immediately reaching to grab Isabel’s arm. “Allow me to help you out.”

Isabel’s small gasp met his ears. “I think it may be too late.”

Pulling his gaze from her face, Sirius looked around and noticed that the balloon was now almost ten feet above the ground, the collective gazes of the crowd staring up at him as he stared down at them. He noted the gentleman Isabel had been speaking with earlier, no doubt the balloon engineer, was frantically trying to restake the tethers holding the balloon to the ground, several men rushing to assist him. Sirius’s stomach gave an uncomfortable swoop as the basket rose several more feet before it jerked to a stop, the ropes groaning with the tension. Peering down again, he spied the engineer waving his hat, before cupping a hand around his mouth.

“Hang tight. We’ll have you down in a few minutes,” he called.

Sirius lifted his arm in acknowledgment and slowly pivoted to face Isabel.

Her eyes were clenched closed. Her hands were curled about a canopy rope, and if she were not wearing gloves, Sirius was certain her knuckles would be white. The only time he had ever seen Isabel this terrified was when her sister, Ana María, had been abducted. His heart lurched out of rhythm at the sight.

“I can’t say I’m surprised you would jump at the chance to soar in a balloon above London,” he said, the tension in his chest easing when Isabel’s lips twitched around a smile.

“I assure you that a flight above the city was not my intention.” Her throat worked on a swallow. “I-I’m actually afraid of heights.”

“Are you truly?” At her nod, Sirius took a small step toward her. “I find that quite surprising. You don’t strike me as a woman who’s afraid of anything.”

Her soulful dark eyes blinked open then, and in their depths he glimpsed a perplexing bit of vulnerability. That couldn’t be right, and Sirius lifted his hand to reach for her, to reassure her…until he remembered himself. His arm dropped to his side with a thud.

“That may be the most flattering compliment I have ever received.” Isabel stared at him for a long moment and then her gaze slid away. “Sadly, I find myself afraid of all sorts of things.”

Sirius worked his jaw on a pause, unsure of what to say but mindful that his response could either ensure their quarrelsome interactions continued, or perhaps forge a new path toward friendship. And with their connections, friendship seemed an appealing alternative.

Resting his hand near hers on the basket, Sirius maneuvered his body until he prevented Isabel from glancing down to see the crowd below. Being this close to her, he caught a faint whiff of vanilla. Her soap or lotion, perhaps. It suited her.

Isabel looked up at him then, a pucker forming between her brows. Was she wondering why he stood so near to her? Before she questioned his motives, Sirius spoke, still unsure of exactly what he was going to say.

“There’s nothing wrong with being frightened of things. The world is a frightening place.” Sirius snagged her gaze. “It’s what we do with that fear that matters. Do we let it control us? Or do we acknowledge it and move forward anyway?”

The corner of her pink lips quirked. “Is this what you told your men on the battlefield?”

Sirius chuckled, mortified to feel heat spread across his face. “I wish I had been wise enough to think of it then, but alas, such insight was lost to me.”

Isabel ducked her head, but not before he spied a flashing glimpse of a smile.

“I read an entertaining little book about aeronautical balloons called The Balloon Travels of Robert Merry, and it reignited my curiosity. There was an exhibit in Mexico City several years ago that I had been excited to attend.” Isabel shrugged, but the movement was anything but blithe. “However, my father forbade me to go.”

“Forbade you?” He blinked. “But why?”

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…

Apprehension unfurled in her chest as Isabel realized how much she relied upon her sisters, especially Gabby, to shield her from uncomfortable social encounters. However, if she were to return to Mexico as she desired, how was she to find her place among the elevated circles her parents occupied if she could not maneuver around cutting remarks and innuendos? She couldn’t cling to Gabby’s skirts indefinitely.

“I apologize for leaving you so suddenly, but Miss Luna here was in need of assistance.” Captain Dawson flashed a smile at her, but it appeared almost manufactured. Certainly not of the sunny variety he had shared with her in the balloon basket. “We ended up taking an unexpected trip above London.”

Lady Needham gasped. “Was that you in the balloon I saw slip from its tethers?”

“It was, indeed.”

The baroness clasped his arm, pressing her body close to his side. Isabel ground her molars together. “Good gracious, are you all right? Were you injured?”

“I appreciate your concern, my lady, but I am fine.” Captain Dawson’s indigo eyes swept to her. “As is Miss Luna, thankfully.”

For the first time, Lady Needham turned her gaze on Isabel. Isabel had met the baroness once or twice since she had arrived in England, but the older woman had never paid her much attention, and why would she? Lady Needham was a renowned beauty, with gold hair, a porcelain complexion, and pretty, pouty lips. Gabby had once remarked that she looked like a doll, with the empty head to match. Isabel had thought her sister hyperbolic, for the blatant inspection the woman gave her now was quite calculating. Still, she raised her chin. Just a tad.

“Well, you’ve caught me by surprise.” The baroness waved her fan lazily in front of her face as she stared at Isabel. “I had no notion you were a philanthropist, Dawson.”

Although his expression remained impassive, a muscle twitched in his jaw. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, my lady.”

Lady Needham’s brows disappeared into her hairline as her gaze darted between him and Isabel. “Come now, of course you do. Why else would you come to the rescue of such a little sparrow?”

A sparrow? Flames of mortification burned across Isabel’s skin.

Risking a quick glance at the captain, she found him staring at Lady Needham with a pucker between his brows. “Is that supposed to be an insult? I’ve always thought sparrows were plucky and clever, and Miss Luna is both those things.”

He thought her clever?

“Perhaps,” the baroness replied, drawing out the word, “but then they aren’t terribly pretty, are they?”

“I’ve always thought beauty was subjective, my lady.” Sirius lifted a shoulder. “Something can be beautiful because it’s clever and plucky.”

“If you say so.”

Isabel didn’t have a chance to ponder Captain Dawson’s answer before Lady Needham pivoted on her heel to face her again. Isabel endeavored not to curl her shoulders in.

“Are you here by yourself, Miss Luna?”

“I’m not. Viscountess Yardley and my sister were visiting with friends near the lawn when I walked over here for a closer look at the balloons.” Isabel aimed for a smile, but suspected it was more of a grimace. “Neither was as interested in their mechanics as I was.”

“Well, of course you were interested.” The baroness flicked her fingers in the direction of the balloons. “No doubt you’ve never seen anything so grand and advanced.”

Isabel rocked back on her heels. “I fancy I’ve seen many amazing sights, both here in England and in Mexico.”

Captain Dawson clutched a hand to his chest in faux surprise. “So are you saying England and Europe do not have a monopoly on technological innovations?”

“Indeed not.” Isabel pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Despite what some people may believe, Mexico City is quite cosmopolitan. It’s often called the Paris of Latin America.” She tapped her chin with her forefinger, playing coy. “Or perhaps Paris is the Mexico City of Europe.”

Isabel experienced a moment of pleasure when the baroness’s mien darkened. But her response was nothing compared to that of Captain Dawson, who chuckled out loud, his eyes glinting in a way she didn’t think she’d ever seen outside of Dancourt Abbey. “I suppose it’s natural for people to believe their home is the center of the world because it is the center of their world. I find it refreshing to be reminded that the world is much vaster than my experience on any given day.”

Ducking her head, Isabel hoped to hide how his words made her cheeks warm. That Captain Dawson understood her, supported her claim, boosted her confidence more than she was certain it warranted. Nevertheless, his approval made it easier for Isabel to stand a little taller.

“Yes, well, I’ve never been interested in traveling. Why would I travel when London offers everything a sophisticated woman could ever want?”

Lady Needham adjusted the fit of her fine leather gloves, her head tilted just so to allow the sunlight to glint off the colorful blossoms adorning her bonnet. The baroness was exquisite…and it was obvious she wanted Captain Dawson. Isabel could never compete with such a woman. And why would she want to? The captain was a scoundrel of the highest order.

Yet, the baroness’s words smarted, and while it wasn’t like her to argue a point, Isabel heard herself say, “Not everyone travels for enjoyment, though.”

“What do you mean?” Lady Needham asked, lips pursed.

Inhaling quickly, Isabel said, “Some are forced to travel, and they take their culture, their history with them.”

“As you have, Miss Luna,” the captain said, his tone sober. Looking at the baroness, he tilted his head. “And your point seems rather shortsighted, my lady.”

Isabel blinked at Captain Dawson’s words. Apparently, she was not the only one surprised, for the baroness frowned outright.

“Whatever do you mean?”

Captain Dawson widened his stance. “What I mean, your ladyship, is that if Britain is providing you with everything you want and need, it’s because it was taken from somewhere else.”

Lady Needham’s brows dipped low. “I don’t understand.”

“The lace on your bodice, my lady.”

Isabel only realized she had spoken aloud when the captain and baroness turned to her in unison.

The set of Lady Needham’s jaw was sharp enough to cut stone. “What about it, Miss Luna?”

Darting her gaze to Captain Dawson, Isabel found him staring at her with his brows raised. He was as surprised by her interjection as she was.

Pressing her lips together for a second, Isabel finally said, “Your bodice is trimmed with Spanish lace, ma’am.”

“And?” the baroness demanded.

“And, my dear lady, that means it was made in Spain,” the captain said with a teasing grin.

Lady Needham brought a hand up to her bodice, her gloved fingers fidgeting with the lace border.

“Do you like pineapples?” Isabel asked.

“They’re divine, are they not?” The baroness sniffed, directing her attention to Dawson. “My grandmother told me her parents rented a pineapple for a grand ball they hosted when her older brother announced his engagement. Can you imagine?”

Yes, Isabel could. Meeting Captain Dawson’s exasperated gaze, she realized he could as well.

“Well, pineapples were imported to England. As were”—Isabel tapped her fingers as she listed—“sugar, tea, potatoes, silk, cotton, tobacco, and many, many more items.”

“What an interesting little lesson.” Lady Needham flashed her a terrible look. “Interesting and pointless.”

“Not pointless at all, your ladyship.” Captain Dawson pulled his timepiece from his pocket and considered it for a second, his mien bored, before he snapped it closed again. “You claimed there was no point in traveling when London is the center of the world, so Miss Luna shared all the ways the world has made life in London better.”

“Yes, because the British know how to trade.” The baroness twirled her parasol. “Even barbarians know how to trade.”

Isabel would have ignored the remark had Lady Needham not slid a glance to her as she said it. Stomping down the anger that threatened to cloud her vision, Isabel forced herself to ponder what Gabby would do if she had been dealt such a slight. No doubt her younger sister would have immediately responded with a sharp retort that would have the baroness scarlet with embarrassment.

But Isabel did not possess Gabby’s quick mind, so instead she calmed her temper and ventured, “Trade is always a good thing, but only when it’s conducted for the benefit of both parties. It seems to me that the British Empire is not so much engaged in trade as they are in exploitation. They use their might to take what they want by force, often at the detriment of those they have stolen from.”

The baroness spread her palms. “Perhaps some people do not understand the resources they possess and require a strong hand to guide them.”

A strong hand to guide them?Isabel clenched her teeth so tightly her jaw throbbed. Thankfully Lady Needham appeared not to have noticed how her words affected her, for the baroness’s attention was fixed on Captain Dawson…whose piercing gaze ensnared Isabel’s. For a passing moment it seemed as if he shared her frustration, and Isabel sucked in a breath at the sharp pinch under her ribs.

“Have a care. You wander down dangerous paths.” Captain Dawson’s tone was light, but his gaze was hard as he stared at Lady Needham. After a tense pause, he changed the subject. “Now if you ever were to travel, my lady, I believe you would enjoy visiting India. An enchanting country with rich, delicious foods, lush textiles and spices, and a fascinating history.”

“It’s quite hot in India, I’ve heard.” The baroness shuddered. “I’m certain I would not like that.”

“It can be quite humid, especially during the summer months.” The captain looked to Isabel then. “Mexico enjoys warmer temperatures, too, does it not? It must have been quite an adjustment when you arrived in London—”

“Yes, but I imagine Miss Luna is better built for the heat,” Lady Needham interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Isabel went still. Built for the heat? Whatever did that mean? She opened her mouth to ask the baroness, certain the answer would not be at all friendly, when the captain interjected.

“Considering Miss Luna has spent the majority of her life in more temperate weather, she is probably used to the heat a bit more than a pampered English baroness.” When Lady Needham smacked his shoulder with her fan, he chuckled. “What offends you, my lady? That I called you pampered? Well, are you not?”

“I’ve been cared for.” The baroness twirled a blond curl around her gloved finger. “As a titled lady, it’s only appropriate that I should be protected and pampered.”

“And your late husband ensured you were both,” Captain Dawson said, patting her arm.

“You’ve done a wonderful job of caring for me, as well.” Lady Needham stared up at him, her eyes wide. “Although you’ve been neglecting me as of late.”

Isabel shifted her gaze away from the fawning expression on Lady Needham’s face. Isabel had heard the rumors that the baroness and Captain Dawson were engaged in an affair, but seeing the woman gaze up at him like a subject in a Hayez painting made her almost wish she were back up in the balloon.

As if sensing her discomfort, Captain Dawson took a step back from the baroness. “I’ve been busy, my lady. Now if you ladies will excuse me, I came here today to visit with a friend, and I should finally see to that task.”

“I believe the viscount’s left, Dawson,” Lady Needham said, pointing her fan at him.

His face fell. “That’s unfortunate.”

“But now you’re free to be a dear and escort me to my carriage.” The baroness wrapped her arm around his, flashing a triumphant smile at Isabel. “We never did finish our conversation.”

If Isabel weren’t watching him so closely, she would have missed the way his chest expanded and then deflated with a sigh.

“Very well, my lady, let’s get you out of the sun.” A hint of a smile curved his lips as Dawson tipped his hat to Isabel. “Good day, Miss Luna.”

With an ache in her throat, Isabel watched the couple amble away. Why she should feel sadness and a sense of loss to see the captain depart, she didn’t know. Nor did she like it.

Pushing her melancholy aside, Isabel turned and fixed her eyes on the balloon envelope overhead, willing herself to feel the same excitement she had before her impromptu balloon ride with Captain Dawson. Before he had smiled and laughed with her, and wiped her mind clear of thoughts.

“I know Captain Dawson is a rogue, but I thought he at least had some taste.” Gabby came to a stop beside her, curling her lips as she looked at a point over Isabel’s shoulder. “Lady Needham? He must be addled in the brain to associate with her.”

“She’s quite pretty, don’t you think?” Isabel said, biting her cheek.

“I don’t think anything of the sort.” Her younger sister snorted. “Lady Needham is unremarkable. Vapid. Mean-spirited. Enamored with her own consequence.”

Isabel looked at her sister from the corner of her eye. “Am I to assume you’re not fond of the baroness?”

“Come now, Isa, you know I’m fond of very few people. You. Ana. Gideon. Mother. Sometimes Lady Yardley.” Gabby paused, staring into the middle distance. “Perhaps Dove, but only because she’s an adorable, empty-headed little beast.”

“Five people and a dog?” Isabel chuckled. “I’m surprised, even for you.”

“No, you’re not. You know I hold little affection or patience for most people I meet, especially when they’re idiots.” Gabby sighed. “I’m disappointed to see that Captain Dawson may well be an idiot, too.”

“I tried to warn you.”

“I suppose you did.” Gabby leaned into her side. “One day I’ll learn to listen to my older sister.”

“But today is not that day,” Isabel said.

Gabby clicked her tongue. “Indeed, it is not.”

And perhaps one day, Isabel would learn not to indulge her romantic notions at the expense of her good sense.