Page 88 of The Trouble with Anna

William eyed Anna from under his cap. “Jockey, then. All things equal, I’d put my dosh on you.”

Anna’s mouth flattened. “All things aren’t equal, William, that’s exactly the—” She squinted ahead at Hartley as firecrackers went off inside. “The weight! Those arrogant bastards, they haven’t assigned me a weight penalty! How much does Hartley have on me, would you say?”

William broke out in a grin. “Four stone, easy.”

Four stone, an angry horse that hated the fuss, and a crowd that pressed close against the railings, more raucous than most. Eclipse had never lost a race, never even faced much of a challenge as far as Anna could recall. Her face went hot as she thought of a strategy. One so brash, so reckless, her heart turned over.

Could it work?

Absolutely not. It was a two-mile race, and Eclipse was a sprinter.

But then again, Archer was a sprinter too, as fluid as a length of ribbon when he ran. And Hartley outweighed her by fifty pounds. Fifty pounds! Eclipse might as well run with an anvil on his back.

Anna’s heart quickened. “When’s the last time Hartley raced, would you guess? Really raced, not just larking.”

William cocked his head. “I’d say it’s been a while, my lady. Bet you could show him a few tricks.”

Calculations ticked through Anna’s brain. She’d need to start clean as a whip crack, she’d need to grab the inside rail and hold it. Most of all, she would need luck, loads of it.

“FIVE MINUTES!” Marby called.

Anna gathered her reins and her courage. She turned Archer and walked toward the cluster of people standing at the start.

“Right!” Marby called out as Hartley and Anna approached. “It’s two laps around, first one to cross the line is the winner. Byrne and Locke will watch the finish and serve as judges. A fall is a disqualification, and heed my words: anything havey-cavey from either team will result in immediate—”

Hartley gave a startled laugh. “Really, Marby, is that necessary?”

Marby shot a dark look at Charlotte. “Nothing wrong with a few precautions.”

But Charlotte wasn’t paying attention. She was too busy staring off over the crowd, her eyebrows drawing closer and closer together as she tracked something in the distance. It was a phaeton—handsome, high-sprung, and deeply familiar—taking the drive at a brisk clip.

“Good heavens, the day wants only this,” cried Charlotte. “My brother’s arrived!”

CHAPTER37

THE SMALL GROUP ON THEracetrack turned their heads in unison, and the crowd shifted or took to tiptoe to see what was distracting the racers. There was a collective gasp as the phaeton swept into view and the crowd caught sight of the late arrival.

The quiet held as Julian pulled up, tossed the reins to his groom, and retrieved an awkward package, as long as a lance and draped in black, lying across the phaeton’s floor. He tucked it under his arm and cut a line toward the track.

The crowd parted for him like a flock of sparrows around a hawk.

Something wondrous occurred to Charlotte and she gripped Marby’s shoulder so hard he squeaked. “Oh no, my brother’s here!” Charlotte turned and faced the crowd, yelling as loud as she could manage. “The race shall have to be canceled!”

Heads swiveled toward Charlotte and instantly back to catch Julian’s reaction, but the hush of expectation had no effect on the Earl. He reached the fence, planted the bottom of the package in the dirt, and vaulted casually into a prime seat that cleared instantly for him on the rail.

Only then did Julian take stock of the scene. His gaze swiveled out over the crowd, lingering on Mr. Frith’s landau wherethe Dowager Countess had slunk down in a vague attempt to hide behind the brim of Lady Cardiff’s enormous pink hat, before he turned toward the figures on the track.

The breath whooshed out of Anna as Julian’s eyes, unfathomable at the distance, found hers. Anna didn’t move so much as a muscle, but something sharp flared in her stomach. Was it hope? Was it dread? All she knew was that she couldn’t stand the waiting.

“WELL?” she demanded, calling into the silence when no one else dared. “Does your lordship have something to say?”

Julian hoisted up the long, strange package, lifted it to his shoulder, and pulled the black cover away. Silk spilled down from a polished pole and a tangle of white and scarlet caught the breeze.

Charlotte gasped, but Anna lost her breath entirely.

The Barton racing colors—her racing colors—blazed proudly across the sky.

Julian’s voice boomed out over the track. “Ride like hell, my lady. I’ve come to watch you win.”

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