Page 11 of Air Affair

“How is the wedding planning going?” he asked lightly, as if he hadn’t just gravely insulted her.

She cleared her throat, struggling to maintain composure. “It would be going just fine if my stepmother didn’t interfere so much. You’d think it was her wedding, the way she orders me around. I wish we could keep things simple and small. I don’t even know half the people on the guest list.”

“Small would defeat the purpose.”

Breathe, Rory. She plastered a false smile on her face. “How so? I thought the purpose was to get married.”

“Of course, but the other purpose is the spectacle. I want my rivals to shake in their shoes, knowing I have the wealth and influence of August Belmont behind me.”

And there it was, stated in no uncertain terms. “I hope you and my father’s money live happily ever after.”

She shouldn’t have said it, but it was too late to take back.

“That’s not how I meant it, and you know it.” He looked at her as if she was an obstinate three-year-old. God, how insulting.

“Do I?”

Why was this bothering her so much today? Usually, she managed to be sensible.

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart. You know I’m not just marrying you for your money.”

No, you’re also marrying me to have a pretty ornament for your arm, someone attractive to bear your children, someone to impress your peers and put your past scandals with women to rest. I knew what I was signing up for.

She shivered despite the heat in the room.

“Don’t worry, Edward,” she said, resolutely pulling her gaze back to her fiancé. “I haven’t suddenly developed any silly romantic notions. I’m a practical girl. But even practical girls like to think they are valued for more than their papa’s bank account.”

“Ah, so you’re fishing for compliments,” he said with a dismissive smirk. “How tiresome.”

She was about to explode and tell Edward exactly what she thought of him when they were interrupted by a noise at the door. Her father walked in. “I forgot my notebook,” he said, glancing around the room without looking at them.

“I should really go get ready for this evening,” she said, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to make her escape. It was best if she left before she said anything irrevocable.

She hurried to her room. As soon as the door closed behind her, she heaved a sigh of relief. There were solid, rational reasons for marrying Edward. But she couldn’t help but wish she could have flown away in one of the airplanes she visited the night before. If only she knew how to fly! More than once she’d thought about simply running away, impossible though that would be, given her fame in the society pages. But what would it have been like if she could have left her old life behind and simply become someone else? What would it have been like to marry a man who cared for her wellbeing?

As she dressed, her imagination wandered once again to her mysterious pilot. He’d shown her more kindness in one evening than her fiancé had in their entire acquaintance. She smiled to herself and shook her head. Some things were not meant to be.

Putting the finishing touches on her makeup and pulling on a deep plum satin gown that fell to her calves, she headed downstairs back to Edward, dreading the night ahead.

4

Back to work. It was another sweltering day. Sweat trickled down the back of Hank’s neck as he parked his Model T and headed toward the hangar at Belmont Park.

He spotted the Turf and Field Club in the distance with its ridiculous turrets. For a moment, he was a knight in shining armor, riding on a horse to rescue a princess with blonde curls and mischievous blue eyes from an evil prince who wanted to steal her away.

What the hell is wrong with you, Hawley? He shook his head to clear it.

Coffee. That was what he needed.

Heading straight to the lunchroom, he poured himself a cup, took a drink, and winced. Yup. That woke him up all right.

After a few more acidic gulps, he sauntered out to his Jenny and yawned. Would he ever get the hang of mornings?

At least he wasn’t thinking about Rory Belmont.

He didn’t think about her as he went through the motions of his pre-flight checks. He definitely didn’t picture her perched on the fuselage of his plane, her mischievous eyes following his every move.

As he took off, there was no feminine voice whispering, “Oh, Hank, I’ve never had such a smooth takeoff. Show me how you do it.”