Page 3 of Daredevil Lady and the Mysterious Millionaire (The Hidden Hearts Collection #3)

Angelo grinned. Although he did grab his precious newspaper back from her, he folded the society section, tucking it into his jacket pocket, then turned his attention to checking the balloon’s tether, making sure it was secured to the winch.

Still not trusting Angelo to keep his mind on his task, Rory was keeping an eye on him when she was approached by the circus owner himself, Mr. Dutton.

The man’s checkered suit was enough to blind her even on this overcast day. He grinned, chomping on a fat cigar. “Ah, here she is at last. The balloon lady.”

“Aeronaut,” Rory grated. She plucked the cigar from his plump fingers, dropped the stogie to the ground and crunched it beneath her shoe.

“Hey! That was an expensive see-gar.”

“And that’s a bag full of hydrogen,” Rory said, pointing at the balloon. “One little spark and they could be picking up pieces of us all along the Jersey side of the Hudson.”

Mr. Dutton’s eyes widened, and he took a few extra stomps at the crushed cigar himself. Then he stepped back and cocked his head at her admiringly.

“Well, now, don’t you make a peach of a bridesmaid!”

Rory was not about to allow her irritation to be deflected by the man’s oily compliments. She was still annoyed about all those blasted flowers caught up in the balloon’s rigging. But before she could complain, Mr. Dutton dragged her over to meet the minister.

The Reverend Titus Allgood looked very prim and very scared.

“Is this thing really quite safe, Miss Kavanaugh?” he asked in a quavering voice.

“Completely safe,” Rory said.

Tony, who happened to be passing by within earshot, gave a loud snort. Rory glared at him. She still hadn’t managed to calm Reverend Allgood’s fears when the circus band was heard to strike up a flourish.

An excited murmur ran through the crowd at this signal that the wedding procession was about to commence.

The band blared out the strains of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March.

From the main tent across the fairgrounds, two elephants led the parade, followed by a line of lovely ladies in tights riding white ponies adorned with feathers.

Drawing up the rear was a flower-bedecked open carriage in which rode the bride and groom, driven by the ringmaster himself in a red coat and top hat.

As the crowd clapped with pleasure, Rory tried to smile, but it was difficult to disguise her chagrin. This had formed no part of her father’s dream, this usage of the Katie Moira to perform a cheap circus stunt.

Her father’s vision for the company had been so much more than that—grand plans of establishing an aerial mail service, a passenger line, even the use of balloons for scientific exploration.

Someday, Da. Someday, Rory vowed silently.

The crowd pushed and shoved, and it was all the roustabouts could do to prevent a general surge forward as the wedding carriage arrived in the clearing.

The groom was the first to alight, doffing his high silk hat to the assembled masses. The Fantastic Erno’s handlebar mustache bristled as he flashed a smile. With a flourish, he turned to hand down his bride.

The crowd let out a collective gasp. Rory gaped at Miss Glory Fatima’s idea of a wedding costume. She was garbed in the skimpiest pair of white tights Rory had ever seen. The skirt of her leotard did not even cover her calves, and the glittering bodice scarcely contained Miss Glory’s ample charms.

Mr. Dutton snatched up his bullhorn again, and the crowd had to endure a rather long-winded speech. Just as everyone was getting a bit restive, he finally concluded.

“And now, suspended miles above the earth, Miss Glory Fatima and the Fantastic Erno will exchange their solemn vows, witnessed by that intrepid balloonist, Aurora Kavanaugh.”

“Aeronaut,” Rory said wearily.

Erno helped his bride climb into the balloon’s basket.

He also assisted the white-faced and trembling minister.

To Rory’s annoyance, her skirts hindered her from scrambling into the gondola with her usual dexterity.

Tony had to lift her over the edge, and she thought he clung to her a little longer than necessary.

“I heard thunder again,” he muttered in her ear. “This better be the shortest wedding on record.”

Rory merely smiled.

“I mean it, Rory. Ten minutes and then I’m telling Angelo to haul?—”

She cut off his warning by giving the signal to Thomas that he could begin undoing the lines that tethered the balloon.

The Katie Moira immediately surged upward several feet, now held back by only the thick rope affixed to the winch.

The balloon bucked in the wind as though it resented even that restraint upon its freedom.

Miss Fatima gasped and clutched at Erno.

The minister looked as though he would have liked to have done the same.

Rory motioned to Angelo to start cranking the winch, but he was too spellbound by Miss Fatima’s costume to pay any attention. It took a sharp command from Tony to set him and Pete into motion.

The muscles in the forearms of both young men appeared strained as they struggled to hold in the surging balloon and let the rope out smoothly. As the Katie Moira started upward, the crowd gave a great cheer.

Owing to the wind, the ascent was a little rough. Cursing the flowers again, Rory clung to the rigging, setting free a shower of blossoms. She cautioned the others to move about as little as possible, an unnecessary admonishment for Reverend Allgood. The man was frozen with fear.

Erno and Miss Fatima peered cautiously over the side, waving to their adoring public below.

Soon the faces of the crowd grew less distinct, the mighty elephants and even the circus tents assuming the dimensions of toys.

The cheers of the crowd reflected upward with that peculiar clarity Rory had often noted on her flights.

The balloon had not risen much higher when it jerked to a sudden halt.

“Damn you, Tony,” Rory thought. He had obviously prevented Angelo from reeling her out the full distance she had planned. Perhaps it was just as well. Much more and they would be obscured from the view of the circus crowd, lost in the scudding gray clouds overhead.

Rory looked expectantly at the Reverend Allgood. It was some moments before the little man would take the hint. At last he pried free of his death grip upon the basket’s side and drew forth his prayer book.

“D-dearly beloved,” he began.

A rumble of thunder sounded and he almost dropped the book. After a deep gulp, he relocated his place in the text and continued. Although she was supposed to be a witness to this event, Rory’s thoughts drifted from the ceremony.

The storm was moving closer. She had seen a distant flash of lightning. Although the balloon was fairly stable, she felt the insistent tug. If it had not been for the stout rope and the winch, the wind would have carried the Katie Moira away from the fairgrounds rapidly.

She wished there was some way she could force Allgood to hurry. But as though calmed by the familiar words of the wedding service, he was proceeding with all the slow dignity the occasion demanded. Finally, the minister reached his conclusion.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. What God hath joined, let no man set asunder.”

As Erno kissed the bride with great enthusiasm, Rory scooped up a red parachute. She tossed it over the side. As it drifted back to earth, it would signal those below that the ceremony was complete.

Rory offered the couple her congratulations, and then produced a bottle of champagne from the bottom of the basket.

“On the way down, we’ll drink a toast to—” She halted in midsentence as the balloon gave a wild lurch. Dropping the champagne bottle, she pitched against Erno.

Miss Glory gave a little squeal as the balloon began to rise. “What’s happening? Why aren’t they bringing us down?”

Rory recovered her footing and braced herself against the side. Instantly, she knew that they were not only rising, but also drifting swiftly to the east.

Peering over the side, she saw the green splotch of earth and the mere specks that were the circus vanish from view.

The next instant they were enveloped in the eerie gray world of the clouds.

It was like being lost in a heavy fog. Rory didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow that blasted Angelo had let the rope come free of the winch.

The Katie Moira was now in a pattern of free flight.

Her passengers looked puzzled, but only a little frightened, until the significance of the balloon’s movements dawned upon Erno.

“Why, we’ve broken loose,” he said.

The Reverend Allgood gasped and sagged down in the basket. Miss Glory shrieked.

“There is no cause for panic—” Rory was cut off by a roll of thunder. A burst of lightning seemed to electrify the entire cloud.

Rory gave up on any attempts to calm her passengers. She had to act and quickly. Snatching up a knife from the basket’s floor, she bent over the side and began slicing open the ballast bags, setting free a cascade of sand.

Erno seized hold of her wrist. “What are you doing? That will make us ascend even higher.”

Rory wrenched free and explained with all the patience she could muster. “We have no choice but to go up. We have to get above the storm.”

When she could make him understand, Erno moved to help her.

“That’s enough,” Rory said. Gradually, the Katie Moira lifted out of the cloud cover.

The sky above them emerged in a burst of blue, the sun more brilliant than the most sparkling summer day.

That hushed calm descended, that absolute quiet which Rory had never found to exist anywhere on earth.

“Are we dead?” Reverend Allgood quavered. “Is this Heaven?”

“No,” Rory said, consulting her barometer. “It’s only about fifteen hundred feet.”

“We shall have quite an adventure to report when we land back at the fairgrounds.” Erno chuckled.