by Archer, Kate
The stand Lord Mendbridge had built was ideally situated. He would see the start of the race in the distance, and the end of it clearly. The race itself was well in hand, all he need do is observe Rupert and Bucephalus both doing what they knew how to do so well.
The situation with Miss Darlington was not so well arranged, but that did not mean he would not find success. He must only make his case! Surely, she would see that he was far more suited to her than Burke. Burke was pleasant, of course. But pleasant was not enough!
Surely, she would see it. She would not spoil her own happiness over some errant words he’d said that ought not to have been said.
Would she?
He did not think so, anyway. After all, when she was apprised of the idea that he loved her, she must soften.
Where was she, anyway? Surely, she would not miss the race.
Perhaps Burke had waylaid her. Damn Burke.
Lord Mendbridge elbowed him. “Eh, Cabot? What do you think of? Worrying that I’m right about fillies and your own might change her mind about wanting to race?”
Henry smiled, but did not answer. They had made their way to the lord’s stand and had an excellent view of the Rowley Mile, as well as the jostling crowd who were not so lucky as to have a private stand. Though the raised seats might have kept the masses at bay, the stench of them was not so easily avoided. It was as if every farmer in the neighborhood had a deep-seated resentment against baths.
“I suppose the ladies all come together?” Henry said.
“They come in the carriage,” Lord Mendbridge said. “Montrose and a battalion of my footmen and grooms will clear the way here for my sister and Miss Dell.”
“But Miss Darlington?” Henry asked.
“Penny?” Lord Mendbridge said, laughing. “Don’t be a blockhead, Cabot. She’s got a horse in the race this afternoon. She’ll stay at the stables with her eye on everything until the last moment. Petit takes care of my own but Penny likes to see to things herself. She’s got her own particular methods, you know.”
Henry did know. Mendbridge was right, he was a blockhead. How had he not thought of it? He might have gone to the stables himself and spoken to her. Keeping well out of the way of Rupert of course.
Well, at least she was not wandering round somewhere with Burke.
“Ho!” Mendbridge said, pointing. “There’s Burke escorting my sister and Miss Dell.”
Damn Burke.
*
Penny had not had any trouble donning the groom’s clothes. The pants were odd, as she’d never worn such, but she’d always wondered about them as seeming more convenient. She must only get over the idea that she was not naked, though she felt so. The hat had been more of a challenge. It had taken her quite some time to secure all of her hair inside it. It had been fortunate that Rupert’s head was a deal larger than her own or she would never have managed it.
For her plan to succeed, everything must be timed perfectly. She must be the last horse out and running late. She wished the other horses and riders to become irritable in waiting so that the start would not be delayed when she arrived. The less standing around the better. She must also remember to keep her head down and appear natural riding astride. She had ridden that way before, though not that often and not in a very long time. Years ago, she had sometimes dared it on her father’s estate, well away from prying eyes. It was not unpleasant, but she could never be comfortable that her riding habit did a spectacularly bad job of covering one of her legs.
She would win the race, at least that was the plan. She would do her best, in any case. She’d never ridden Bucephalus and so could not know the horse’s habits. At least she was intimately familiar with the Rowley Mile. She would pace the horse before the dip, not looking for an excessive lead—many a rider had made that mistake only to lose it at the rise. At the dip, she would give the horse its head, gaining momentum downhill and using the saved stamina to take the lead on the uphill. The course was all about pacing and timing.
Once the race was finished, she would not stay to accept any congratulations, but would make her way back to the stables in all haste. Some story could be made up for that, though she did not know what. There, she would change to her own clothes and do her best to get Rupert into the colors. She did not think he would be recovered in that space of time, and that was well. She would claim he’d taken a knock on the head. That was technically true, he’d had a few knocks on the head going down the stairs. As for Rupert himself, he would not remember running the race, but then, he’d had a knock on the head. After all, what could he say about it? That he was certain he’d slept in the tack room, dreaming of zebras, while everybody else had seen him on the track?
Penny opened the tack room door and peered out. The last of the fillies in the race were leaving. Time to saddle up Bucephalus.
*
“You’ll sit with us, Burke?” Lord Mendbridge said, giving a hand up to Miss Dell. Mrs. Wellburton had already sat herself on the seats above and patted the one next to her for Kitty.
Burke nodded happily. Henry suppressed a grimace. Was there nothing too good for Burke? Why should he not be wandering down amongst the crowd of unwashed farmers?
Henry paused. Mendbridge was exceedingly fond of Burke. He wondered how the old fellow would react when Miss Darlington threw over her idea of marrying Burke and told her father she’d decided for Cabot instead. That was, if she would throw over the idea of Burke.
Burke sat himself in the open seat on the other side of Henry. “How do you get on, Cabot?” he asked.
“Quite well,” Henry said stiffly. “You?”
“Well enough,” Burke said. In a quieter voice he said, “I suppose Dalton and Grayson are wandering around somewhere, though I suspect Grayson will somehow maneuver himself next to Miss Dell.”
“I don’t find favor with those who secretly maneuver,” Henry said.
“I don’t see that Grayson makes any secret of it,” Burke said, looking at him quizzically.
“All I say is, one should not rest upon one’s laurels precipitously. A man should not imagine he has won a lady’s heart too soon. Much can change.”
Henry knew he should stop speaking immediately. He should have stopped speaking three sentences ago.
Burke’s demeanor changed and said heatedly, “I do not know what you think you know about my own situation, but it is…complicated.”
This cheered Henry no end. If both of the couple were in favor of an engagement, there would be nothing complicated about it.
“I cannot possibly know the complications of your situation,” Henry said. “I only seek to make my own situation a deal less complicated. Let the best man prevail, as they say.”
“Prevail in what?” Burke asked.
Before Henry could answer him, though he was certain Burke knew full well what he spoke of, an unmistakable voice reached his ears.
“Lord Mendbridge,” Grayson said. “How pleasant to encounter you.”
“Yes, yes,” Lord Mendbridge said in all good humor, “you may join us, you too Dalton. There is plenty of room yet.”
As the two men climbed the stands, Mendbridge said, “Hurry now and settle yourselves. The fillies are taking the turf.”
Henry’s thoughts were taken off Burke and put firmly on the track. Beyond the rails and the sea of men crowding against it, nine horses filed out and spread themselves along the starting point. He stood up, squinting at the distant start. Where was the tenth? Where were his colors?
Rupert was late to the turf? Why? Rupert was never late in coming. He liked to pick his spot, somewhere in the middle of the crowd. He had a theory that a horse went its fastest when it had at least one horse to either side. He would never be late!
My God, had some disaster struck? Was the horse lame?
Mendbridge shook his head. “It seems your filly may have changed her mind,” he said softly.
“It cannot be,” Henry said.
The horses had reached the starting
point, some standing still, some needing to be walked in tight circles to keep them in the right spot.
Mr. Jardins waved the flag for the one-minute warning. Henry stood stock still. The race would start without Bucephalus. Not in a thousand years had it been a circumstance he could have imagined.
As the seconds ticked down and Mr. Jardins loaded his pistol for the start, Henry sank down into his seat. He was ruined.
Mendbridge suddenly grabbed his arm and shook it. “There she is!” he cried.
Henry leapt up. Relief washed over him like a sudden rainstorm. In the distance, there was Rupert, there were his colors.
Bucephalus trotted to the start with only seconds to go.
Mr. Jardins raised his pistol and fired.
They were off.
*
Penny had timed it without a second to spare. Mr. Jardins had looked in her direction with a rather scathing eye, but quickly turned back to the loading of his pistol. The other riders were far too intent on their own horses. She’d worked Bucephalus into the middle of the field, trusting in the other horses’ natural inclination to move away from a horse coming amongst them.
She kept her head down until the pistol fired.
Though she did not know Bucephalus, Penny was beginning to quickly become acquainted with her temperament. The horse had been a handful to keep to a walk as they approached the start, the girl’s eagerness all too evident. Now that the pistol had been fired, she shot off like a ball from a cannon.
This horse was born to race.
Penny kept her focus on control amidst the thundering hoofbeats on either side of her and the shouts of the crowd ringing in her ears. As they passed the bushes, Lord Canley’s Triple Jinx was to her right and running just as her line always did. Jinx and Double Jinx had been known for galloping hell for leather. Triple Jinx had the lead of her, but Penny did not think she’d keep it on the rise. The filly might be fast, but it was doubtful she was a stayer. At least, her line was not known for it.
Lord Philpot’s horse, Lady Macedonia, was in front on the outside. This did not concern Penny much—the lord’s horses nearly always started well and then fell back. It was almost as if there was some agreement in that line that the start was all that mattered and they might finish how they liked. Lord Philpot was always certain that his next comer was the one who’d work all the way to the finish. Penny hoped he was just as wrong this time as he’d always been in the past.
The rest of the pack had fallen a half-body back. If she could triumph over Triple Jinx and Lady Macedonia she would have it.
Penny could feel Bucephalus straining against her, frustrated that she’d not been given her head. As they approached the dip, Triple Jinx now a full head in front, she let the horse loose.
Bucephalus took full advantage of it.
Horse and rider flew down the dip, gaining on Triple Jinx. Penny felt like she was nearly flying and leaned over the horse’s neck to hold her seat. As she had expected, Bucephalus hardly slowed on the rise, so joyful was she to be galloping as fast as she liked.
They gained on Triple Jinx hoofbeat by hoofbeat. The finish was just ahead.
“Go girl, go!” she said in Bucephalus’ ear.
Penny could feel the energy and excitement of the horse, Bucephalus gave a final push and overtook Triple Jinx a few yards from the finish.
My God, she’d done it.
*
Henry realized he’d been clutching Lord Mendbridge’s sleeve. It had been close, but he was certain Bucephalus and Rupert had edged out Triple Jinx in the final moments. He let go of Mendbridge and waited for the judge to raise the colors of the horse that had come in first.
Impatiently, Henry strained his neck to watch Mr. Talbert sort through the various flags on the turf. Finally, he hauled up the black and green stripe.
As the crowd cheered, Henry sank down in his seat. He had done it. He’d won the race. The pressure of standing upon a cliff and staring down into a morass of debt flew from him. Along with that relief, he silently swore he’d never bet what he did not have ever again in his life. It was one thing to find oneself in high spirits at the end of it, but he would not soon forget the tortuous minutes when things had not looked so certain.
“Deuced strange,” Mendbridge said.
“Strange?” Henry asked, a whiff of panic drifting over him. There could not be anything to go wrong now. Please God do not let the results be called into question.
“Your rider does not stop to receive his congratulations,” Lord Mendbridge said.
Henry peered down to the turf. Lord Mendbridge was right. Rupert was making his way back toward the stable at a trot. What was the confounded man doing?
“It seems your groom is a less than gracious individual,” Lord Mendbridge said, amidst the various people throwing congratulations toward Henry. “One might have thought he’d at least shake hands with Triple Jinx’s rider as a battle well fought. Bad form.”
“Rupert is a less than gracious individual,” Henry said. “Though even for him this is a bit far. I think I will go and have a word with him. It will not be too late to congratulate Lord Canley’s rider when they reach the stable and I will see that he does so.”
Henry jumped down from the stand and pushed his way through the crowd, determined not to be waylaid by those who wished to relive the race with him. He had no idea how he was meant to scold Rupert over anything, but hoped he could coax the man into acting civil. As he now had ample funds to his name, he assumed he’d end up paying for the courtesy.
Did he really care, though? Might he not happily pay Rupert to hand out a thousand polite phrases? They had won!
*
Penny hurried Bucephalus into the stables, well ahead of the other riders.
She had done what she set out to do, and now she must cover her actions in some believable way.
She leapt off Bucephalus and threw the reins over a post. The horse could be seen to after she was finished with Lord Cabot’s groom.
The stables were eerily quiet. She flung open the door to Lord Cabot’s tack room and found Rupert asleep just where she’d left him. She hurried out of the groom’s clothes and donned her own. Now came the more difficult part.
She’d never pulled off a man’s pants in her life and it was about the last thing she liked to be doing at this moment, but there was no other option.
Rupert groaned and opened his eyes. He blinked several times as if to assure himself of what he was looking at.
“Miss?” he said groggily.
Penny made a split-second decision. What else could she do in the current circumstances? Rupert was awake so all thought of dressing him and telling him he’d forgotten the race on account of a bump on his head was over.
“Good,” she said, “you’re awake. Get dressed quickly, there is not a moment to spare.”
Rupert staggered to his feet. “Blast!” he cried. “How could I have fallen asleep? Am I late for the race?”
“Later than you know,” Penny said urgently. “Get dressed! Now!”
Rupert became more alert by the second. He grabbed his clothes from the peg, then halted.
“Oh, don’t worry!” she said, sensing his reluctance. “I shall turn around.”
Penny turned and spoke quickly as she did so. “The race has been run and you are the victor. You returned here quickly as you did not feel well. You hit your head hard before the race and began to feel dizzy at the end of it.”
“What?” Rupert said.
“Pay attention!” Penny hissed. “You have won, you hit your head, you are dizzy. You must remember it. If you don’t, you may explain to your master how you slept through the race.”
“I never—”
“You did,” Penny said, turning back around. To her enormous relief, Rupert was dressed. It was just in time, too. She could hear the other riders coming in.
“Lie on the floor if you value your job,” she commanded.
Rupert hesitated, then lay down.
Penny knew very well that the man’s head was spinning from more than laudanum at this point, but she knew not what else to do.
She flung open the door and cried, “Quick, I need help! Lord Cabot’s rider has collapsed!”
The riders were just arriving to the stable. It was not a moment before two of them had dismounted and come to her aid. As Rupert lay on the floor, looking as if he had no idea how he got there, Penny said, “He was telling me that his head ached, as he’d hit it hard before the race, and that he felt very dizzy. Then he just collapsed right in front of me.”
The two men went to either side of Rupert and gently helped him up by the arms. “Do you think you can walk now? We’ll help you to the bench.”
“That’s why you were so late,” the other said. “I did wonder over it. One of the stable hands told us all that you were sufferin’ from the effects of saffron tea.”
“They said one moment you was talkin’ of zebras, the next you were asleep. Now we see you woke up and got on your horse, only to fall down. I’d not take the stuff for the worst stomach in the world.”
Rupert’s eyebrows knit together as if he were trying to make sense of the talk swirling round him.
“Never mind the saffron tea,” Penny said hurriedly. She had nearly forgot about that story and she wished everybody else would too. Why must the stable hands be telling all and sundry about it?
“I ought to be sore that you beat me on Triple Jinx,” the first said, “but now that I knows you was doin’ so poorly and still got on your horse, I can only admire it.”
“I am doing poorly, I think,” Rupert said, his voice tentative.
“Of course you are,” Penny said. “You are no doubt concussed. It was very wrong of you to ride in such a condition, you might have fallen off and been killed. But then, I suppose your master has no care for injuries.”
“A course they don’t,” the first rider said sullenly. “Just wait to hear what Lord Philpot will say about me not takin’ the win, though I coulda told him she don’t have it in her. Them of that line start strong and peter out. Always have done.”
The other groom shook his head sadly. “I ain’t sore you beat me, but Lord Canley will be. I hope your own lord sees the heroics you done today.”
