"I thought you might." She grinned in a knowing manner.

"And?"

"I may have missed you for a moment as well." She hopped back on the stool. "As for why I am here, I have been doing a great deal of thinking."

He sat down with a resigned groan. "I'm not at all sure I like the sound of that."

"I have come to fetch you so we may be on our way." Tatiana's tone was casual and he didn't trust it for a minute. "I have decided my work cannot wait."

"I thought a few days wouldn't matter."

"I had forgotten that the anniversary of the birth of the Princess Sophia is fast approaching and I did wish to have this history compiled before then." The explanation flowed from her lips smoothly. Far too smoothly. As if it had been rehearsed.

"Really?" He raised a brow. "When?"

"Next month," she said without hesitation.

"What day?"

Indecision flashed in her eyes.

He smirked. He was right. This was another lie.

"The fourth." She smirked right back. "I am certain it is the fourth."

"Regardless"-he nodded at the papers and assorted paraphernalia spread across the table-"I too

have work that cannot wait."

"What exactly are you doing?"

"I told you. I am trying to develop a type of heating system, really more of a method than a-"

"Yes, yes, I believe you mentioned that." She waved impatiently, her gaze skimming across the

mechanical bits and pieces on the table. "But it seems rather complicated and I must confess I do not

quite understand." "I explained much of this on the way to Canterbury." He fixed her with a pointed stare. "You found it so fascinating you were compelled to sleep through it."

"I do that in carriages," she murmured. "However, I am fully awake now and would very much like to hear about your efforts." "Very well." He shrugged in an offhand manner as if he didn't care one way or the other but he did. "As you know, a balloon can be inflated by the simple process of building a fire and tunneling the resulting hot air into the balloon. Here, let me show you."

He reached for the papers covering a good portion of the tabletop. Every free inch of the large sheets was jammed with sketches and notations. He found the one he wanted, then stepped around the table to her side, smoothing the drawing out in front of her.

"You can see what I mean." He pointed out the various elements, accompanied by a cursory explanation. "The problem occurs when one tries to keep the balloon aloft as the air cools."

"That much I do know."

"In the past"-he pulled out another drawing to illustrate his words-"a fire on a grate beneath the balloon has been employed, but that requires carrying a great deal of fuel."

"Which is why many of your balloonists, aeronauts, have turned to hydrogen," she said.

He nodded. Even now, it was exceedingly pleasant to note she had taken the time during their separation to acquaint herself with his interests. She had definitely thought of him. Perhaps she had missed him after all.

"Yes, but hydrogen carries with it an entirely new set of problems, including production and its combustible nature. Ultimately, the length of an ascent is limited.

"Hydrogen can only be created on the ground and it's a massive and tedious process. But heating air is child's work."

"Still you do need a fire."

"Indeed. However, the question that now arises is just how great a fire is necessary. If one wants to reduce the size of the fire, the best way to do that is to use a substance that burns at a hotter temperature. Oil burns hotter than wood, as do spirits, alcohol, and so forth. I have experimented with a number of possibilities. What I propose to do is fill the balloon itself-"

"Aerostat," she said sweetly.

"Aerostat with hot air in a conventional fashion. Then keep it aloft by burning something far more convenient to carry. Look here." He shuffled through the assorted papers until he found the one with his most current design. "While it is still necessary to have a heating area larger than that provided by a single flame, I have determined binding several containers together, each burning independently with its own fuel source will produce the desired effect."

She glanced up at him. "Will it work?"

"It has worked, although not as well as I would like. I am still tinkering with the valves, as well as the fuel. I have tried a number of combinations. Types of oils, various spirits-"

"Spirits? You mean brandy? Such as Avalonian brandy?"

He laughed. "That would, no doubt, be an appropriate use for Avalonian brandy."

Her expression fell. "You really do not like it, then."

"Nothing of the sort," he said quickly. "You yourself said it was an acquired taste. I simply have not acquired a taste for it yet."

"I have an excellent idea." She beamed up at him. "While I do have a bottle or two with me now-"

"Traveler's toast?"

"Exactly. We brought quite a lot with us to England."

"With your entire retinue traveling and toasting, you must go through quite a bit of the stuff," he said wryly.

"Tradition, Matthew. However, as it may prove of use to you, I will send someone back for more. While we wait, you can direct the packing of"-she waved her arm in a wide gesture-"all this."

"Packing?"

"You said yourself you could not leave your work. Therefore, I have arranged for your work to accompany us."

He shook his head in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"In addition to the coach and driver-your suggestion, I might add-I have brought a wagon and footmen to assist you."

"You have what?" He strode to the open door and out into the morning sunlight.

A private traveling coach of a modest size stood in the dirt drive. A large wagon drawn by a stout team of horses waited nearby. Several saddled horses were tethered to the cart. The woman he'd seen with her the other day stood patiently beside the vehicle. A half dozen or so servants lounged about and straightened respectfully at his appearance.

"Now there is no reason why we cannot be on our way." Tatiana came up behind him. "Although judging by the clutter surrounding your work, it will take hours to actually begin our travels."

His disbelieving gaze moved from coach to wagon to servants and finally settled on Tatiana's expectant face. Matt wasn't certain if he was annoyed by the arrangements she'd made without so much as a by-your-leave, or impressed with her determination. She was certainly not the same reserved creature she once was.

"Before you protest," she said quickly, "do keep in mind you said you no longer had any difficulties using my resources."

"This is not a simple question of cost." He chose his words carefully. "I have no idea how such things are done in Avalonia, but we are in England. Our next stop is Effington Hall. The woman we wish to speak with is the matriarch of a powerful and extremely wealthy family. You simply cannot call on such a woman with a balloon-"

"Aerostat."

"-in tow. It's presumptuous. Rude. And very, very odd."

"Rather like gypsies of the sky, I would think."

He shook his head. "A romantic image, but nonetheless-"

"Sometimes, my dear Lord Matthew"-she heaved a long-suffering sigh-"I do wonder which of us has the true spirit of adventure. This is the first real adventure of my rather staid existence, while you have traveled to exciting places and sailed the seas and flown the heavens. You constantly take the most horrendous risks with your very life yet you are at once overly proper, terribly conventional and even a bit stiff. Not at all as I remember you."

"I most certainly am not stiff or proper," he said, ignoring how very stiff and proper he sounded. "I simply think-"

"I think you should listen to me." She crossed her arms over her chest. "When I realized that time was running short, I wrote to the Lady Helmsley mentioned in the princess's letter, only to discover she was now the Duchess of Roxborough, and the dowager duchess at that." She frowned. "Were you aware of this?"

"Yes."

"And you did not mention it?"

"I was going to."

"Well, it is of no consequence, I suppose. I had the letter dispatched to Effington Hall and received a

reply last night."

He stared, hard-pressed to believe the lengths she had gone to. "Did you? And precisely what did you say?" "I explained my mission, stating I was sanctioned by the royal family of Avalonia to write a history of Princess Sophia's travels and wished to speak to her." "And she believed you?" Tatiana's brows drew together. "Of course she believed me. You are the only one who does not believe me." "Go on." "I further explained that my husband's work was at a critical point and he could not leave it. And I could certainly not travel without him."

"And she said do come and bring his balloon and whatever goes along with it." Sarcasm dripped from his words. "Something like that," Tatiana said firmly. "More along the lines of Lord and Lady Matthew are cordially invited to Effington Hall and it will be a great delight to see Lord Matthew's daring work at close hand." Her eyes narrowed. "She further stated she looked forward to seeing you again." He resisted the urge to squirm. "Did she?" "Whatever did she mean by that?" "I have no idea."

"You do not lie as well as I do, my lord. You should probably give it up altogether."

"Forgive me if my skills are not as great as yours." He blew a long breath. "Very well. The dowager is acquainted with members of my family. I may well have met her as a child, although I don't specifically remember."

"Matthew!" Her eyes widened with surprise. "Why did you not tell me?"

"Because it's of no real significance." He adopted his best no-nonsense manner. "It scarcely matters."

"Do not be absurd. Of course it-"

"Nonetheless," he cut in. He had no wish to continue this particular topic. "As you have contacted the dowager and made all the arrangements, I suppose there is nothing to be done but bow to your wishes. Very well, we will be off as soon as we complete packing the wagon."

She cast him a brilliant smile. "I knew you would see it my way."

"I don't see that you left me any choice."

"Leaving you a choice would be extremely foolish." She stepped close and smiled up at him. "And I am not extremely foolish."

"Tell me, Princess." He stared down at her with a rueful smile. "What is the urgency behind all this? What are you really after?"

"Nothing more than what has been lost." She gazed deep into his eyes, and for a moment he longed to accept what he saw there. "You still do not trust me, do you, Matthew?"

"No more than you trust me," he said softly.

She laughed, turned and walked away, joining the lady he suspected was her companion. The woman she had pretended to be when first they'd met. Tatiana signaled to one of the servants and spoke to him for a moment, no doubt sending him back to town to fetch the bottles of brandy.

He shook his head at the absurd thought. How ironic if it turned out Avalonian brandy, her Avalonian brandy, was just what his endeavors needed.

Another footman approached him in a respectful manner. "My lord," the man said with a brisk bob of his head, "where do you wish us to begin?"

"In here." Matt led the servant into the stables and pointed out what was needed and what could be left, urging caution and care.

Within moments the building and yard were alive with activity. Matt personally directed the folding of the vast yards of fabric that comprised the body of the balloon itself and the careful packing into a large, lined wicker trunk he had adapted for that very purpose. He issued a few more instructions and observed long enough to see that the men Tatiana had brought were excellent workers and could be trusted.

He caught himself studying her as well. She had an air of dignity about her but was nonetheless approachable. She moved with an effortless grace that stirred something deep within him. And her laugh rang through the late morning air like a song.

Why hadn't he gone after her?

The question took him by surprise. He'd never particularly considered it before. At the time, he was too lost in his own anger, sense of betrayal and, yes, self-pity, to take action. Certainly, once he'd learned she was a princess, it was logical to conclude her involvement with him was nothing more than a royal lark, despite their marriage. He'd been spurned by the woman he loved-his wife, no less-and he would not crawl after her like a pathetic dog. He cringed now at the memory. Had he really been that arrogant? That proud? That stupid?

He should have followed her. Tracked her to the ends of the earth, if need be. Demanded to know from her lips if all they'd shared had been a lie. If she'd ever loved him. If she loved him still.

Would he follow her today?

He pushed the question aside. He had no time to consider it now; there was far too much to accomplish. It would take well into the afternoon to pack his equipment securely. Still, he could not dismiss the question altogether.