“Rather impressive action from a lady,” Mr.Dermott said.“You would not expect it.”
“It really wasn’t anything unusual,” Scarlett said, not particularly caring for Mr.Dermott’s characterization, but unable to get worked up about the opinions of the stuffy old creature that sat across from her.
Anyway, she had said this exact phrase many times since the incident occurred.It was how she felt.She wasn’t afraid of heights, so it hardly made sense that she would panic in such a circumstance.
What had happened on the ground, apparently, had been that the little dogs that belonged to Malcolm’s nieces and nephew had gotten loose.Their leads had tangled in the legs of one of the balloon men.When he had let go of the rope, it had so surprised one of the other men, that he had let go too—and then the third had been forced to let go as well, because he was afraid the balloon would tip them out of the basket given how perilously it was tilting from the unevenness of the ballast.
However, what had been most shocking to Scarlett hadn’t been nearly floating away in a hot-air balloon.After all, so many shocking things had happened to her since she had set foot on Parkhorne land that a hot-air balloon mishap had some competition.But, no, in this instance, what shocked her most was that the diffident and stiff Malcolm Brown seemed to find her own presence of mind so praiseworthy—and his own lack of action rather… amusing.She did not know many men who would be content being bested by a woman in such circumstances.But Malcolm Brown did not seem to mind in the slightest.She would not have announced that it washerwho had pulled the vent on the balloon and landed the contraption.But when they landed, he had proclaimed the truth almost immediately with alaugh.
Which was strange because he wasn’t a man who seemed to laugh easily.
Now, they were at dinner and seated next to one another again.And it felt good—as it had all day—to answer questions about their adventure.Together.
“Miss Perkins is only being modest,” Malcolm said, the rich timbre of his voice seeming to vibrate into her, despite the fact that they were sitting at least a foot apart.“It really took great presence of mind.I can assure you fellows that when that basket lurches two hundred feet in the air, it is not a small thing to keep your wits.”
“Itisvery impressive, Miss Perkins,” Mr.Larchman said.“I should like to have you near me the next time I find myself in a crisis.”
“Yes,” Malcolm said, his eyes twinkling.“It seems that Miss Perkins is rather good in a crisis.”
She felt a keen drop of pleasure go through her at the clear innuendo of his words.Because hadn’t what they had shared before today—twice—been just that.
Before long, the older men fell into conversation about something regarding crop rotation, and it felt—despite dining at a table full of people—that Scarlett was once more alone with Mr.Malcolm Brown.
Since their first night, they had dined together again, but they had said very little to one another.On these occasions, she had schooled herself not to glance at him.
Now, however, when she lifted her gaze to his, he looked at her with a distinct openness.She knew they wouldn’t sit in silence.After what had happened today, that was no longer possible.
“I realize, Miss Perkins, that I have an apology to make,” he said, his voice graver but still warm.
She wanted to lean into it, as one did toward the sun on a beautiful summer day or a fireplace in the dead of winter.
“Although, perhaps, it is more accurate to say that where you are concerned, I have more than one apology to make.”
She flashed him a look of caution.He couldn’t say anything too revealinghere, of all places.
“You needn’t worry about me debasing myself too far,” he said, as if he caught her meaning.“I certainly should apologize for how I left you to helm that errant balloon today.”
She shook her head.“It would have occurred to you sooner rather than later that you needed to pull the vent.”
“Maybe.But we may have been at the tree line by then.But that’s not the apology that preys on my mind.I know that, in the affair of the balloon, you did not need me to rescue you.”
“Oh,” she said.“I see.”
If he wasn’t going to apologize for either of their, er, encounters, and he wasn’t going to apologize for the balloon, she had no ideawhathe would apologize for.
“Our first night when we dined together, I said something clumsy.”
She flushed, horribly and suddenly.She did not need to see her own face to know she was characteristically scarlet.Of course, she knew what he referred to now.
She knew what he must think of her.And it pained her because she thought so differently of him.Clearly, he did find her somewhat comely, but in a sort of base way that was not specific to her.That was general to what he might feel toward any tolerable lady.He thought her gluttonous.Too plump.As must most people who looked on her.And she didn’t want to be reminded that he, too, saw her this way.
“Really, Mr.Brown, there is no need to apologize—”
“No, I must.I am sorry to recall the memory of my coarse behavior.For my own sake—and yours,” he said.“I was so grateful to you for appreciating the food at that first dinner.It had been the product of many months’ work.And I, uh”—he blushed here—“enjoyed seeingyouenjoy it.I intended to thank you for that.But I misspoke.I gave offense and worse, perhaps, I gave an inaccurate impression of my thoughts and feelings on… the matter.”
She wasn’t sure if she had ever heard him say so many words together at once.
And the way he had looked at her at this moment—well, it suggested that he didn’t see her pleasure in food as a deplorable gluttony at all.
