Finette had no clue of the hour when she arrived home. Gas lamps lit along the street gave proof the clock had not yet struck midnight, otherwise the neighborhood would be dark. The Proulx mansion, surprisingly, remained well lit, so Papa must still be awake.
She climbed down from the carriage and stumbled to the doorstep. She’d put in a long day. It slipped her mind that she still wore her goggles as she threw open the door, and stamped her boots on the mat outside so she wouldn’t track caked mud indoors. “Hello? Did no one miss me today?”
Jacalyn peered round the corner. “Did someone say—” Her shriek interrupted her inquiry.
Alarm jerked up Finette’s head.
It only increased the decibel level of her stepmother’s scream.
Finette whirled to see if a thug was perhaps creeping up behind her. No one was there.
Her father burst from his study and ran through the hallway. “What’s wrong?”
Hoarse, Jacalyn gagged and pointed at Finette.
She lifted her goggles. “What, these? You’ve seen me wearing my headgear many times.”
Her stepmother’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she crumpled at the knees. “Oh, this is too much. I can’t take any more.”
Remy guided his wife to the settee in the parlor. “I’ll get you some water, dear.”
“I need something stronger,” she rasped.
“Cooking sherry?” he offered.
Jacalyn slowly stroked her neck. “No. Cognac.” Nothing indecisive about her response.
After a beat in which Papa stared into her eyes as if she were a stranger, he walked to the wooden cart and splashed liquor into a glass, marched back to his wife and held the glass close to his chest.
She took the alcohol from his hand and held his gaze in defiance while she gulped it down. “We must do something about her. Soon.”
Finette softly cleared her throat to indicate she was still within hearing range. “No need. I’m working on a new project.”
“A new project.” Jacalyn pushed the glass into her husband’s hand and waved him toward the cart. “Another flight of fancy, I presume?” She hooted at her own small joke.
Tired of being the source of her stepmother’s amusement, Finette stood tall. Hopefully many flights, and every last one would take her far from here.
“I’m repairing an aeroplane. I intend to enter the British Diamond Cup.” If only she could raise enough money for the entry fee in time. She’d completely blocked that important tidbit from her mind, but now it hit her full on. How could she possibly enter the race?
“Where did you get the money for a flying machine? Have you been stealing?” Jacalyn’s eyes had the glitter of a maniac’s. Probably the prospect of sending Finette away, even to jail, filled her with black glee.
Finette mustered an honorable display of indignity, though she could honestly care less what Jacalyn thought of her. “Certainly not. I didn’t buy the aeroplane, it’s Addie’s. She said if I repaired it, she’d let me use it for the race.”
Her stepmother’s beady-eyed glare, the way she shook her head so fast it might spin off her shoulders, filled Finette with dread.
“You’re not only a fool,” Jacalyn hissed, “you’re a liar.” Everything about her appeared pinched, coiled to strike.
Finette bit her tongue to halt the stream of curses threatening to explode. “I’ve never—”
“Silence!” Her stepmother’s gestures were as shaky and uncontrolled as her voice. “Go to your room. Your father and I have much to discuss.”
“Good night, then.” The weariness settling into Finette’s bones like a weight convinced her to trudge upstairs to her bed. Otherwise, she’d have remained by Papa’s side to shield him from whatever verbal assault Jacalyn might launch.
Closing her door helped to mute their bickering, but didn’t block it. A door slammed. Papa’s study? Then stomping footsteps, and another door slammed. Jacalyn probably locked Papa out of their bedroom. Much as Finette hated to see her father suffer, he’d be better off without her.
Once she won the race, Finette could repay Papa, and perhaps convince him to travel with her, far from the dragon lady’s scorching breath.
***
In the morning, Papa sat at the dining room table, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee. Jacalyn daintily chewed a croissant, as did Daisy and Celine.
A serene domestic scene that Finette had no wish to disrupt. “Good morning.” She grabbed a roll and some cheese, and turned to duck out of the room.
“Finette.”
Her stepmother’s sharpness halted her. Finette turned. “Yes?”
“Sit down.”
She flinched at the command. She looked to Papa, but he kept his gaze on the newspaper.
She forced an apologetic smile. “The carriage is waiting. I have to work—”
“Fine, don’t sit,” Jacalyn snapped, then smiled at the twins. “I’m holding a ball in late July. That will provide adequate time to send out invitations and plan the details.”
Daisy and Celine’s squeals drowned out Finette’s groan. Even though the family’s finances had nearly failed?
Her stepmother assessed her with eagle eyes. “Finette, I expect you to dress like a lady—and by that I mean, you must wear a gown and properly fix that rats’ nest of hair. All the eligible bachelors will attend. I’m hoping that at least one will find you to be a suitable match.”
“I have no time or inclination for courting.” She sometimes doubted her true soul-mate existed. Marrying for any reason other than love didn’t interest her.
Jacalyn waved her off as she sipped her tea. “I’m hoping for a quick courtship. Matrimony will cure you of your irresponsibility.” The severity of her tone left no room for misinterpretation.
Dumbstruck, Finette tried to gather her thoughts. She turned to her father, and finally worked up the nerve to announce, “I have my own plans.”
Daisy and Celine tittered. “Plans,” they mimicked.
Jacalyn gazed at them adoringly. “My girls are only sixteen and they understand the difference between real plans and childish dreams.”
More like her worst nightmare. She pleaded to her father. “I don’t want to marry, Papa.”
“Finette…” Without looking at anyone, he released a strangled breath, then threw his napkin atop the table as he rose. “I’m late for work.”
She blinked hard to make sure she wasn’t still sleeping. The triumph on Jacalyn’s face told her this was no dream. She ground out, “I’m late for work, too.” Then she turned on her heel and fled, not bothering to close the door. She ran so hard, she nearly tripped into the carriage.
Supposedly her stepmother loved Papa when they married. Had it faded, or had she been using him all along? Was that the sort of arrangement her stepmother wanted for Finette? The horrible images playing through her mind turned her stomach. A ball. She could imagine the sort of man Jacalyn would hand her off to at the mere suggestion of marriage. Old goats who stank of bourbon and would consider her a possession rather than a partner. Or worse, someone like Monty, who’d use her and use her until there was nothing left of her, and then he’d shove her aside.
Her hands fisted atop her knees as the carriage glided down the road. No, she could not let that happen. She would not marry.
She would fix the aeroplane, and make it the fastest flying machine in the sky. Somehow, she’d scrape together the entry fee. No matter what she had to do, she’d…
The idea that struck both frightened and excited her. She would risk her dearest friendship, but it might be her only hope.
The carriage arrived at Addie’s. Finette stared out the window. No sense getting out if she didn’t fix the financial problem first, so she sent the carriage to another address.
Please be there. I need you.
Part of her hoped no one would be home to witness her shame in having to beg, but five horses grazed in the pasture and the carriage sat beside the stable. Finette steeled herself for the worst, even while hoping for the best.
Before climbing out, she set the mechanical carriage to Wait, then wondered if she should do the same. She wore her usual tan slacks, suspenders, blouse and boots, not the most suitable outfit for visiting, even an old friend. The niggling feeling that she should have planned ahead doubled when the servant opened the door and gasped.
Finette hurried to explain herself before the middle-aged woman, who must be newly employed, could scream. “I’m a friend of Cadence’s. Finette Proulx. I don’t believe we’ve met before.”
Wide-eyed with suspicion, she shook her head.
Oh dear. “If she’s not busy, would you please let Madame de Bergerac know I’m here? And may I come in?”
The servant moved aside, almost comical in the rigid set of her spine and mute responses. She snuck around Finette on tiptoe and tottered across the foyer and down the hall.
Finette moved to the center of the circle-shaped parquetry in the wooden floor. Above her, a gold chandelier appeared ridiculously ornate and too large, as if it were trying too hard. Much like her friend’s husband. She should leave before she embarrassed herself and her dearest friend beyond repair. Too late. Footsteps and the soft swish of fabric preceded Cadence’s appearance in the foyer. Sunlight seemed to gather in her blonde curls, and her smile brightened the room.
“Finette.” Cadence reached for her.
“Cadence.” Finette welcomed her embrace until her friend’s hard belly pressed against her own. “Oh!” She drew back with a laugh. “The baby’s grown since last month.”
Cadence placed Finette’s hand on her stomach. “Do you feel that?”
The movement of the infant swimming below the skin made her gasp. “So strong.” Unlike her friend, who could never keep up with Finette when they were girls. How could she deliver a babe?
As if she’d read Finette’s mind, Cadence patted her hand. “I feel wonderful.”
“You certainly look wonderful.” The legendary glow of motherhood.
Worry filled Cadence’s face. “Don’t misunderstand my meaning, but you don’t. What’s wrong?” She linked arms and drew her inside the parlor. The sunshine pouring in reflected off the white walls, and the white curtains billowing in the breeze from the tall windows.
Finette felt like they’d stepped inside the set of a play, with everything arranged just so. It all seemed a bit precarious, as if the walls might collapse at any moment. “I’m not interrupting, am I? Monsieur de Bergerac won’t be upset that I stopped by unannounced?”
Cadence sat on the sky-blue tufted cushions of the velvet sofa. “Clovis is away on business. I’m always glad for your company. Tell me everything.”
Finette perched on the edge of the cushion, afraid she might soil the fabric. Nor would she sully her friendship. “I’m fine. Excited, in fact. I’m restoring a flying machine and plan to enter the British Diamond Cup.”
“A flying machine!” Delight turned to sadness. “The race is in August, isn’t it?”
“Early August, why?”
Cadence glanced down. “I won’t be able to travel then. And you’ve planned this for so long. I promised you I’d be there to cheer for you. I couldn’t even come to the race last week.”
Even though the baby wasn’t due to arrive until November? Finette wouldn’t stir up trouble by asking. “Never mind. You’ll be there in spirit, as you were on Sunday.”
“You’re such a dear.”
“Your health is more important than a race.” She hated to ask, but did anyway. “How long will Clovis be away?” It had nearly killed Finette to see her friend marry a man who seemed not to treasure her above all others, but how could he leave her in such a delicate state?
“A few days. He hated to go, but we’re both preparing in our own way for the baby. He’s making extra money so we can afford everything a child needs.”
Finette caught her lip between her teeth. To ask for any contribution for her selfish purposes would be no different than stealing from the newborn. She couldn’t do it.
Cadence read her expression, as she always had been able to. “Dearest Finn, please tell me what’s wrong.”
Shaking her head, Finette stared at her hands in her lap. “Jacalyn wants me gone. I’m trying to accommodate her, but she can’t wait until I win the race. She’s planning a ball for next month, though it’s really a marriage auction. Unmarried men from far and wide will be there, I understand.”
“Oh.” That one word held such deep sympathy.
Finette forced a grin. “A useless endeavor. I’d frighten any man away.”
Cadence gently squeezed her arm. “Untrue, and you know it.”
Normally, the subject turned melancholy. Finette couldn’t help beaming. “Except for maybe one.”
Cadence’s grip tightened. “Who? Tell me quickly.”
“His name is Sacha. A Romanian gypsy in a royal household, but only as a servant, so my stepmother would faint in horror.” A laugh bubbled up at the thought. “That in itself is in his favor.”
“And you like him?”
Finette wouldn’t alarm her friend with tales of spells. “He’s intriguing. Since the race, he’s like a ghost following me everywhere. My thoughts don’t stray far from him.” His unseen presence wrapped her in warmth and shielded her from harsh loneliness.
Her friend gave a little squeal. “Will you see him at the race in August?”
“Yes. I wish I could see him sooner, but his world travels keep him busy.”
“I presume he owns an airship?”
“Breath of the Dragon. It’s amazing. You should have seen it.”
“Did he take you flying?” Cadence asked in hushed excitement.
“No.” Another chuckle burst out. “Only in my dreams.”
Cadence clucked her tongue. “Be careful, my dearest.”
“Who knows, I may never see him again. But he’s nothing like…” She glanced around to be certain no servants lingered, then whispered, “Monty.” Only Cadence had known about their little fling and its disastrous outcome.
Her friend pressed a delicate hand to her chest. “What a relief.”
“Jacalyn called me a childish dreamer for planning to become a pilot.” Finette heaved a sigh. “You don’t think me completely foolish, do you? Am I doing the right thing, concentrating heart and soul on this race?”
“Never say such a thing. You have worked so hard for this.”
But for what? If she couldn’t win first place, all her work would be for naught. “I’d hate to disappoint Papa.”
“You must make your own happiness. Don’t let anyone else dictate your future.”
It was as if Cadence had lifted a terrible weight from Finette. The best gift her friend could have given. “You’re so sweet.”
“I’m afraid the reality of motherhood has made me less sweet and more pragmatic.” Cadence grinned. “But more protective of those I love.”
“I’ve noticed a new quiet ferocity about you. You’re a lioness.” Finette let her gaze wander and take in the large room. “Are you happy, here in this oversized playhouse?”
The sweet smile that filled her friend’s face said it before she could. “I am, actually. I know you think Clovis isn’t the right one for me—”
“No, I never said that.” Embarrassed, she ducked her head.
Cadence squeezed her hand. “Honesty always, remember?”
Finette nodded. “Honesty always. If I misjudged him, I’m sorry.” She’d been hurt when her best friend spent all her spare time with the man. Another abandonment she couldn’t bear, and so she’d turned to Monty for comfort. His attention fooled her into believing he thought her special. She’d promised herself to never again make the same mistake of blinding herself to the truth.
A glow lit Cadence’s face as she gazed dreamily into the distance. “Outwardly, Clovis appears less than what he truly is. I’m looking forward to discovering all the layers beneath.”
“And here I thought there was no such thing as a perfect marriage.” Her friend gave Finette hope that someday she’d find a man so interesting that a shared future would seem an exciting adventure rather than a sentence of doom.
The aeroplane. She had to get to work. “I hate to say goodbye, but I have so much to do.”
Cadence rose and strolled alongside her. “Make sure you keep me abreast of everything.”
“I will.” Finette opened the door and descended the steps slowly. “You must come to the ball my father’s wife is planning, otherwise I’ll have no one to talk to.”
“Except for dozens of suitors. Keep an open mind, someone might surprise you.” Beneath her teasing tone lay some kernel of truth, or hope.
“I don’t know if such a man exists.” Finette chuckled. “Except in my dreams.”
“Perhaps in Romania?” Cadence arched her brows in question.
“I would be a fool to hope.” She kissed her friend’s cheek. “Take care of yourself.”
Cadence caught her elbows and held tight. “Go and build the fastest flying machine on Earth. But get some sleep, too.”
A laugh escaped. “Practicing for motherhood?” Her friend already sounded like one.
Rubbing her belly, Cadence spoke matter-of-factly. “I want my baby to grow up to be just like you. Adventurous and fearless and with a heart as big as the sky.”
A sudden lump thickened Finette’s throat. She climbed into the carriage and after blowing a kiss out the window, reset the directional for Addie’s hangar.