Teaser from the new WIP

I have discovered that I am rather clingy. Especially when it comes to novels. So, in an effort to get over my most recent manuscript, which is currently out with agents (and which I keep OCDly revising, argh, cannot resist every time I get new idea, MUSTSTOPANDLEAVEITALONE ahem)... I have started a new WIP.
I haven't plotted this one out yet. It's just a baby idea, beginning to blossom. Perhaps I will think it is crap and kill it. Not decided yet.
But for now, since I haven't teased in about a century... Here's the opening!

The airship’s massive engines hum beneath my feet as the entire ballroom tilts forward a few degrees. Across the room, Lady DuMont stumbles on the train of her gown, though luckily her husband catches her by the elbow before she loses her balance. The crowd around them laughs, and the lady’s friends joke about her posture.

My eyes are still on her husband. Lord George DuMont, virtuous defender of the downtrodden. Who holds this spectacular three-day ball in his private dirigible annually to raise money for America’s rising orphan population. If only I could announce to his many supporters what he really uses that money for, I imagine this party could almost pass for interesting.

The newfangled two-way gramophone by the door crackled with static. The room fell silent at once, just as they had every time the device had been used thus far. In spite of myself, I turn toward it as well, captivated by this new ability to transmit such clear sound all the way from the cockpit to our waiting ears. Older model airships still used a complicated system of pipes and cylinders, which could carry sound a couple hundred feet if you shouted loud enough. But this machine made it sound as though the captain stood in the room beside us.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching New Orleans right on schedule. You should be able to see the city through the portside windows in a few minutes – but please don’t all rush over at once, or you’ll tip us,” he added with a jovial laugh. “Expect touchdown within the hour.”

The gramophone went quiet once more, and talk sprang up among the nobles again.

One hour. Time to get to work.