Page 85 of The Trouble with Anna

Warrick stepped back and straightened his coat, his eyes hot with disgust. “I never thought to see the day when you fail to defend your family.”

Julian eyed him coldly. “In the interest of our long acquaintance, I’ll forget you said that.”

“What the devil was that all about, then?”

“As I’m sure you gathered, my fiancée and my sister intend to run a horse race.”

Warrick stared and his anger drained away as understanding dawned. “They don’t know you’re onto them.”

“It’s cost me no small effort to remain in ignorance.”

“But you intend to put a stop to it, of course?”

Julian’s expression gave nothing away. “I have everything well in hand.”

CHAPTER36

THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BIGrace, Charlotte yanked Anna into her bedchamber.

“Ow! Charlotte, my arm!”

“Do be quiet!” Charlotte peeked up and down the hall to make sure the coast was clear, then shut the door and leaned back against it. “We can’t have Gran catching us.”

Anna rubbed her arm. “Catching us at what?”

Charlotte grinned and spun Anna around to face a riding habit laid out across the bed. “Catching us atthis!”

The riding habit was cut of deep scarlet, with white slashes at the sides of the skirt and white facings on the double-breasted jacket, which was heavily frogged in gold and fastened with two rows of square-cut gold buttons.

“Scarlet and white?” Anna’s chin quivered. “The Barton racing colors?”

“Yourracing colors! I had Josephine cut the jacket large, so you’ll be able to move freely. And there’s a matching silk for your cap, of course.”

Anna threw herself at Charlotte and squeezed her tight. “You’re thebestfriend anyone could have. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do! So why are you looking glum?”

Anna wanted to cut her tongue out, but it had to be said. “I have to wear breeches tomorrow. Archer’s not trained on sidesaddle, and wearing a skirt while riding astride would be a terrible disadvantage. I know breeches will cause a scandal, but after all, Marie Antoinette had her portrait painted in them, and so did Catherine the Great, and—”

“Not to worry.” Charlotte smirked and gave the skirt a shake, revealing its secret. “It’s a split skirt. Josephine and I worked on the design together. When you walk, it looks quite normal, but you can ride astride with perfect modesty. And we kept the skirt narrow, so it won’t slow you down.”

“It’s genius!”

“Of course it is!” Charlotte patted Anna’s hand, quite pleased. “Now, are you nervous for tomorrow?

“Not even a little bit. With a habit like this, how could I possibly lose?”

Despite Anna’s assurances, Charlotte looked queasy the next morning as the carriage bounced the two women toward the racecourse Marby had secured outside Hampton. Anna had sent for William to bring her racing tack, and he’d taken Archer to a stables near the track the night before the meet. William had strict instructions to give Archer a light ride that morning to loosen his muscles. Archer was to be watered and fed early, and William himself was not to touch a drop of liquor—ale included—on pain of dismemberment.

“You’re much too calm!” Charlotte accused.

“In truth, I’m quite looking forward to it.” Anna smoothed her scarlet-and-white skirt and ran the race through her mind. Archer was as ready as he could be, although she wished she’d had the chance to train properly. She’d been out on a horse almost everyday since she’d arrived in London, but sedate canters through the park were hardly real riding. Still, Byrne had been confined to London as well, and wouldn’t know what proper training looked like to begin with.

She was going to beat him, of that she had no doubt. The only question was how badly. She didn’t want to humiliate him, of course. Except that something small and gleeful inside most certainly did. It filled her head with whispered urges to run her heart out and wipe the smugness clear off his face. Off Marby’s face. Off all the smirking faces of all the people who had dared to doubt. Ten to one? She’d mash those odds into their teeth.

A hum, which grew gradually into a roar, penetrated Anna’s thoughts. The two young ladies glanced at each other and, tossing aside every rule of etiquette ever drummed into them, crammed their heads out the window for a look. The carriage cleared the tree line and open land stretched out before them, grassy, flat, and so packed with people that even Charlotte sucked in her breath.

Young men in shiny top hats, their vouchers flying like snow, lounged up against the white rails that bound the track as young women and their escorts strolled around the grounds. Picnickers of all ages tucked into great baskets from the comfort of their curricles and landaus, while latecomers wheeled about to find a spot, complaining loudly. In such a vast sea of people, Anna could barely make out the track.

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