Her cheeks glowed pink in the brisk wind from the sea, and she breathed hard from racing after him. He had heard her footfalls but hoped he could outwalk her. If he stopped now, he might not catch up with Cassandra, who had left thirty minutes earlier but moved far more slowly. But he was too well-bred to not respond to a lady speaking directly to him.“Yes, I expect she will be . . . for someone else.” He began walking again, though more slowly. “Now, if you will please excuse me, I need to catch up with Cassandra, as I do not know where she is going.”Miss Honore fell into step beside him. “She is at the Dunstan home farm, or will be soon. Something about painting silk with some chemical process so the balloon stops leaking air.”Whittaker closed his eyes for a moment, envisioned Cassandra catching herself on fire with a chemical explosion, and increased his pace. “Has she no sense?” “Have you no sense?” Miss Honore grabbed his arm. His wounded arm, out of the sling sooner than the apothecary advised but healing well just the same.
