Excerpt from To Capture What We Cannot Keep by Beatrice Colin, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Jamie glanced at her. Clearly she had spoken out of turn. The Frenchman, however, didn't seem offended, but amused.

"I called it that, not you. Today I was trying to take some photographs of the site for our archive," he explained. "We start digging the foundations next week."

"Really! And how long do you expect construction to take?" Jamie asked.

"It must be ready for the Great Exhibition, so two years at the most. And once she stands, you will be able to see her from all over the city."

"Impressive! You know, I'm training to be an engineer myself."

Cait was surprised to hear Jamie say it. His uncle had paid for school, for university, and when he had dropped out, he had given him an apprenticeship in his company. A directorship was promised, but first Jamie would have to prove himself, working his way up, like his uncle had, from the shop floor. He had learned the basics of civil engineering by drawing endless plans and drilling rivet holes, but he had not shone, coming in late and going home after lunch. After several strained conversations with his uncle, it was agreed that he would take a sabbatical to think things over. While traveling for the last six months around Europe, he had considered careers such as wine merchant or chocolate importer.

"I'm afraid I didn't catch your name?" Jamie asked.

"Émile Nouguier," the Frenchman replied.

"So if you designed it, why isn't the tower named after you?" Cait asked.

"Eiffel bought the patent from us," he replied. "And now as well as building it, he is paying for most of it."

"I heard it was going to cost him millions of francs," said Jamie. "Is that true?"

"It is. Although he hopes he will recoup most of it through ticket sales."

The gondola landed with a thump on the sand of the parade ground. The American passengers gave a spontaneous round of applause.

"It's been a pleasure, Monsieur Nouguier," Jamie said. "Is your wife on board?"

"Alas, there is no one that fits that description."

"We're in the same boat, then," Jamie said. "You must meet my sister."

Émile Nouguier bowed in Cait's direction.

"No, I'm just a family friend," she said. "Caitriona Wallace."

"Forgive me," he said softly in French. "Caitriona."

A small jolt raced through her. He had addressed her by her first name. It was better, she decided, to ignore it. It was better to appear oblivious to his overfamiliarity.

"Well," she said, "good luck with your tower."

"Thank you," he replied.

Almost all the passengers had disembarked. The crew were coiling ropes and piling sandbags. Water was thrown over the basket of hot coals.

"Mrs. Wallace!" said Jamie, standing on the platform steps, waiting to help her down. "Can't wait all day!"

Alice was standing at the bottom, her face doll-blank. The ladies with the parasols had gone.

"How was it?" she asked.

"You should have come," Cait replied.

"There's someone I want you to meet," Jamie called out from behind.

Alice looked at Cait in horror. Who on earth, her face seemed to say, could be worth meeting on a hot-air balloon attraction?

"May I present my sister," Jamie said once the engineer had reached the bottom of the steps, "Miss Alice Arrol. This is Monsieur Nouguier, the highly esteemed engineer."

Jamie was hardly subtle; the young unmarried sister, the blatant advertising of her availability, the implication that Nouguier might be of the right social standing to take an interest. But if the engineer was aware of any of this, his face didn't reveal it.

"Mademoiselle," he said with a small bow.

"Enchantée," Alice replied.

There was a small, expectant silence.

"How long are you staying in Paris?" he asked Jamie.

"Just until the weekend. We're on a Grand Tour, of sorts. After meandering through the Low Countries, we spent too long in Rome. We had to miss Venice entirely. But our stay in Paris has been thoroughly worthwhile now we've met you."

Excerpted from To Capture What We Cannot Keep by Beatrice Colin. Copyright © 2016 by Beatrice Colin. Excerpted by permission of Flatiron Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.