A burst of longing shot through her. Being in a balloon had never occurred to her. That sort of reckless antic must occur to Wynchesters all the time. Their lives were an unending series of adventures. The sorts of things Philippa read about, but never actually happened to her.

Saying yes would almost be worth her parents’ ire and the inevitable punishment.

“Hyde Park, I’m afraid,” she said with regret. “I’d wager my mother is peeking between the curtains to make certain we trot off in the right direction. Or is sending notes to all of our neighbors.”

“Next time, then,” Baron Vanderbean answered cheerfully, as though rides in hot-air balloons were as common as drives in the park.

He thought there would be a next time, Philippa realized with a start. She hadn’t yet stared at him blankly and said all the wrong things for an hour. He simply assumed they’d get on well and that he’d be happy to repeat the encounter.

Perhaps Baron Vanderbean’s relatives had said kind things about her. Chloe, or even Great-Aunt Wynchester, with whom Philippa never felt self-conscious.

Perhaps Philippa was thinking far too much about a man she wasn’t going to marry.

“Have you ascertained your horse’s reading preferences?” she asked.

There. That would keep the topic on nothing at all.

“I did inquire,” said Baron Vanderbean. “He declined to tell me.”

“He declined to tell you? Or you don’t speak horse?”

“I’ll have you know ‘horse’ is a species, not a language. He would be miffed to hear you conflate the two. Tulip happens to speak my Balcovian dialect.”

“Your horse is a Balcovian Arabian?” Philippa said skeptically.

“I said he speaks it. Tulip is a clever horse. And yes, he’s a Balcovian Arabian. Haven’t you ever been two things at once?”

“I suppose we’re all many things at once,” she admitted.

“Just so.” The baron’s deep brown eyes were strangely intense. He blinked and smiled, and his expression became sunny and teasing once again. “Did you visit your mews to ensure it’s stocked with your animals’ preferred reading material?”

“I’m not allowed to go,” she replied. “Or I would have taken them a few books, if only to make the space cheerier.”

“I’ll slip in when no one’s looking and leave a volume or two about,” Baron Vanderbean promised. He guided his carriage toward the park. “If you had to guess, would your beasts lean more toward novels, biographies, or poetry?”

Her horses had shown no sparks of interest when Philippa entered the carriage with her usual purchases. It would have to be something unusual.

“Poetry,” she decided.

Tulip nickered, as though in approval.

The baron gave a sharp nod. “Consider it done. My brother Jacob is an expert in the subject. He will have fine recommendations. What about you? Is there anything you long to add to your collection?”