Page 33 of A Rogue's Most Sinful Disguise

“Yes, now do be quiet before they notice we are here!”

Without knowing who it was Mr Blake was hiding from, Marcus pretended interest in the race card in his hands.

“Shall we go back to the club, Mr Blake?” Sherborne said in a whisper.

“The club? We have not long been here!” Marcus said, glancing up from the race card.

“Forgive me, my lord, but I cannot be seen by them.” Mr Blake’s voice came from behind his shoulder.

“By whom?” Marcus asked, looking up from the card. He was doing his best to look among the faces for anyone he recognised, but it was so busy it was difficult to let his gaze rest on any single face for long. “Look, if you are avoiding someone, there are other ways to watch the races without being seen.”

“How?” Mr Blake asked.

“Follow me.”

***

Violette knew how odd it must have been for Lord Northrive to put up with this strange behaviour, yet credit to him, he did not ask many questions. He simply led Violette off to a different area of the racecourse, whilst Sherborne went back to the carriage, deciding it was best to prepare it just in case Violette wanted to make a quick escape.

They had walked far away from the main section of the racecourse, up to where the barriers were thin, and men could stand directly beside the horses themselves. Here, few men liked to stand, for there was no pavilion, nor refreshments available.

“Whoever you are hiding from, this is the place to do it,” Lord Northrive said, gesturing to their current position. “Most guests prefer to stay by the pavilion so they may order their claret quickly.”

“I see what you mean,” Violette said, sighing with relief as she leaned on one of the barriers. Together, they watched the horses prepare themselves for the next race, walking in small circles with their jockeys astride them, geeing them up for the event.

“So, are you going to tell me who we are hiding from?” Lord Northrive asked, turning a little on the barrier so that he was staring directly at Violette. She bit her lip nervously, knowing she could not reveal the complete truth.

She had seen her father in the crowd. Lord Brunlow would often leave their house at the drop of a hat and spend months at a time in London, then return and impose a vice-like grip on the household proceedings. When he was gone, Violette had even seen her mother smile more readily, but when he was back…they were all a little frightened.

Violette supposed this was one of the occasions now where he had disappeared from home, come up to town to indulge in London life, a little like she had done, only with the lady that was on his arm, she realised now why he did it.

“He has a mistress,” she muttered under her breath in anger.

“What was that?” Lord Northrive asked.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Suffice it to say, my lord, there was someone there I did not wish to see.”

“Ha!” Lord Northrive laughed heartily. “My friend, I could have figured that bit out for myself.” She smiled at his words. “Do you really not trust me enough to tell me any more?”

She kept her eyes away from the horses and fixed them on Lord Northrive instead. She did trust him, more so than she could say. The last few days they had shared together showed what a kind man he was, as well as adventurous, creative, and athletic. How could she not trust in him implicitly?

Yet her secret was not something she could tell anyone, least of all Lord Northrive, but perhaps there was a way to confide in him a little.

“Are you ready to hear a secret?” she asked with a small smile.

“Impatient to hear one,” Lord Northrive said, sliding along the rail until their arms were practically touching. The warmth that spread through her at his nearness made her smile even bigger.

“I was avoiding my uncle,” she said, figuring it made sense with the lie she had told about being her own cousin. “He is far from my favourite person.”

“Would this be Lord Brunlow? Lady Violette’s, your cousin’s father?”

“That’s the one,” she said with a nod. “I have little liking for the man, and I know the feeling is mutual. I wish to avoid the gentleman at all costs. No doubt he would be just as displeased to see me here.” She figured none of what she had said was a lie, apart from her father being her uncle, everything else was true. “He, like my father, has high expectations. They are impossibly strict, so I prefer to hide from them.”

“Ah, I see, for that I cannot blame you,” Lord Northrive said, turning his gaze out to the horses. “There is someone who I would hide from as well, if I saw them here.”

“Who is that?”

“My father.” His words startled her and made her twist on the railings to face him a little more. “Just like your own family, my father is strict and the expectations on my shoulders…” He grimaced as though in physical pain. “They are grave indeed.”

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