Page 86 of The Trouble with Anna

“This race”—Charlotte gave Anna a shaky look—“has gotten entirely out of hand.”

Anna pushed up on Charlotte’s shoulder to try to get a look at the course. “Not to worry, Archer loves a crowd.”

“I wasn’t thinking of Archer, you madcap! I was thinking of Gran and what she’ll do when she finds out.”

Anna gasped and sucked herself inside the carriage, pulling Charlotte with her.

“She’s here! Charlotte, your grandmother’shere!”

The young ladies exchanged a horrified glance.

“Are you sure?” Charlotte demanded.

Anna inched toward the window and peeked carefully out again. “It’s her, plain as day. In Mr. Frith’s landau, munching sandwiches with Lady Cardiff and Dame FitzHerbert.” Anna froze. “Charlotte! She’s spotted us!”

Charlotte inhaled sharply. “Then there’s nothing for it. You run the race, I’ll hide in here, and we’ll simply pretend… No! We Avetons are not cowards. You run the race, I’ll face down Gran, and—”

“She’s waving at us! Her whole landau is waving.” Anna’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes flooded. “They’re… they’re holding up little flags with my racing colors. Charlotte, I think they’re cheering for me!”

Charlotte jostled Anna away from the window for her own quick, cautious peek before waving madly back. “Of course they’re cheering! Good old Gran, you can always depend on her. Now, we’d best mop up. I refuse to spoil our entrance by weeping.”

The crowd roared for the young women as they stepped down from their carriage. Charlotte emerged first with a regal wave and Anna followed, so caught up in the crowd’s euphoria that she almost leapt off the last step. Another great cheer went up, from the females in the crowd at least, and Anna lifted her hand to give a stuttering little wave, half-mortified by the attention and half-fizzing with it.

Marby pushed his way to them, thoroughly overexcited. “There you are!”

“Where’s Archer?” Anna raised up to her tiptoes, still trying to catch a glimpse of the track. The smell of fresh earth and grassrushed through her, and her heart beat a bit more purposefully, her blood zipping busily through her body.

“Your man is walking him now, but I wanted to tell you—”

“Take me to him?” Anna said, as Marby cleared a path through the crowd. “We need to walk the course.”

“Yes, certainly. But there’s something I must—”

Anna ducked under the rails and onto the track, reveling in the feel of good racing dirt under her boots. “Where’s the start?”

Marby followed Charlotte under the fence.

“Just behind us. But, Lady Anna—”

Anna spotted Archer on the far side of the course with William on his back and another horse beside him.

“Who’s that chestnut with Archer?” She squinted over at them. “That’s not Saltram. Where’s Byrne?”

“If you’d stop yammering for half a second, I’ll tell you!” cried Marby. “We found a better challenger, so Byrne stepped aside.”

Anna was still eyeing the horses. The chestnut was too far away to see clearly, but there was something familiar about his configuration, the ugly mug of a head too big for the body. She would have sworn she knew that gait, the way the feet flashed out when the horse walked. Her stomach sank even as her mind still puzzled, as if her instincts sensed the trouble before her brain caught up.

“Lady Anna!”

A voice boomed out behind Anna and caused her heart to seize. She turned slowly around.

No, no, no! Please, no!

Lord Hartley bounded up the track, his smile white and blinding. “I came straight down from Scotland when I heard. Isn’t it marvelous? We get to race at last!”

“This is your fault!”

Charlotte poked her finger into Marby’s chest as their small group huddled together on the track near the start. She jabbed him with increasing violence as the time on his pocket watch ticked down toward the start.

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