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Close up, the log was much larger than it had seemed from the top of the hill. It was vast, chest high to a man at least, and irregularly shaped. A difficult jump for a horse to make, and a dangerous one at that.

“No!” she screamed, waving her arms. “Alex, no! It’s too dangerous!”

Perhaps he didn’t hear her, or perhaps he didn’t listen. Either way, Alex and his horse thundered towards the log, not slowing down at all.

Alex’s face was a mask of determination and fear, and for one wild moment, Daphne thought that he might make it after all.

He didn’t.

The horse balked, tossing its head and pressing its ears back against its skull. It reared back on its hind legs in an attempt to save them both. Its hooves slipped in treacherous mud, and they went down sideways.

Daphne was perfectly placed to see the absolute fear on Alex’s face before he fell off the saddle—a tiny, helpless figure. The horse screamed, its hooves windmilling.

Alex gave a shrill scream too, hastily smothered, and then there was silence.

“Alex!” Daphne shrieked, flinging herself down from the saddle.

There was no response.

Feet slipping in the mud, she began to run.

“A doctor!” she shouted at the groom, who had just appeared at the top of the hill. “Fetch a doctor, now!”

CHAPTER 19

Edward ran, his lungs burning, his newly polished Hessians digging deep into the mud.

Peter Tinn ran at his side, wheezing for breath. The groom who’d seen the accident had been sent to fetch a doctor at once, and they could only pray that it wasn’t too late.

Please, no. Not my son. Please, not my son.

Edward reached the top of the hill first, breathing heavily, and looked down at the scene below.

There, as the groom had described, lay a huge log at the bottom of the hill. It was not a jump that Alex would have ever been able to make, for certain.

A pair of horses stood side by side. The mud-smeared flanks of the smaller one marked it as Alex’s mount, and it was otherwise unharmed.

He couldn’t see Alex at first.

Daphne knelt on the ground beside the fallen log, her muddied skirts fanned out, her dark hair escaping from its braid and hanging around her shoulders like a curtain. She was leaning over a small figure on the ground.

Alex was not moving, and fear surged up Edward’s throat, hot and scratchy as bile. He felt ill.

Peter puffed up alongside him.

“Oh, heavens,” he rasped. “Did he try to make that jump?”

Edward didn’t answer. He began to run down the hill, struggling to keep his balance but refusing to slow down for anything.

Daphne didn’t even glance up as he approached.

“Is the doctor coming?” she gasped, and he noticed tear streaks on her face. “I wouldn’t let him move, just in case.”

Alex was very pale and small in the mud, his face tight with pain. He held his right arm stiffly across his body, cradling his elbow with his other hand. He opened his eyes as his father approached, and Edward almost cried out with relief.

“Alex?” he managed, his voice scratchy. “Alex, are you hurt? Tell me what happened.”

“We were racing, and I tried to make the jump,” Alex whispered. “I fell.”