Read When a Rake Falls for Free Online Page B

attractive puppy named Parker—a creature too adorable for her to look away. “I think you are doing fine. The important thing is to note our mistakes in the Results book and continue forward. So next up is the pigeon.”
    He smiled in penitent gratitude. “Thank you. I must admit I am having fun.” He carried the pigeon’s cage over to the bench, opened the top, then grabbed the bird. “Coo coo.”
    Eve turned to a new page, then noted the time and altitude. “Ready.”
    â€œWatching me?”
    â€œI’m watching the pigeon.” However, if she was completely honest, a good part of the time was spent admiring his overall appearance. He had wide shoulders on top of a slim, straight figure. His woolen clothes appeared expensive, serviceable, and tailored to perfection. Even now, after a wild ascension and tussle for the draw line, his outfit remained spotless and in proper order.
    He tossed the bird about a foot above his reach.
    The pigeon flapped his wings and began to fly. The bird’s wings beat furiously as it moved away, his altitude slowly sinking. Within a minute, the pigeon sunk below the bottom of the basket.
    She noted this in the Results book. Then on the next page, she discovered her father had written specific questions in regard to each bird. Since birds made various types of sounds, he had made a reminder to describe the noises made after each bird’s release. She hadn’t heard anything remarkable, so she asked Parker. “My father has written a question here. Did the pigeon coo at all, or make any other noise?”
    He spun to face her. “You jest! That bird was too busy trying to fly.”
    â€œI will note your observations.”
    â€œMiss Mountfloy?” He placed both hands on his hips.
    She looked up from her notes. “Yes.”
    â€œWhat happens to these birds? I mean we have crows on the estate, and they really are fine birds—smart too. Well, that pigeon was frightened, and I don’t blame the fellow. I know our efforts will gather information to save humanity, but do these birds live after they are released from a balloon, or will we never know?”
    He was obviously concerned, so she replied to the best of her ability. “I don’t have a definite answer to your question. But our theory, and the evidence so far, is that they regain the ability to fly once they leave the rarefied atmosphere, and the air becomes thick again.”
    He sighed in relief. “Thank heavens. Mr. Pigeon should be home by nightfall. Right, next up?”
    â€œNext is our final bird, the duck.”
    â€œNever understood why my father loves to shoot God’s flying creatures. I mean the man can shoot ducks all day long. When I was young, he invited me to keep him company. I didn’t mind, really. Being the youngest of eight sons, it’s nice to feel needed.” He grabbed the duck, and the bird quacked in protest. “Right, little fellow. Thanks for saving humanity. Ready?”
    The duck quacked his answer.
    Eve was not ready. His physical charms, while substantive, were no match to the allure of his kind, open manners. So she forgave him for restraining her after their ascent. She also had no doubts that, in his father’s presence, he’d rather serenade the ducks than shoot them. She chuckled softly but stopped after realizing she might have a pang of regret when she let out the gas to double-cross him. “I’m ready now.”
    In one smooth movement, he tossed the duck into the air, then leaned over the side.
    Since she missed the duck in flight, the bird must have fallen. “Well?”
    â€œDropped like a stone.” He shook his head.
    She noted that fact in the Results book. “The duck precipitated to the ground.”
    â€œHuh? The duck was— is —a feeling animal, not a variable.”
    She ignored him. “My father has written here if the duck quacked with apparent