Page 40

As they neared the other spectators, the marquess extended an arm. Meredith took it, grateful for his steady presence to help her negotiate the occasionally rutted lawn, which was particularly challenging in her walking slippers.

It also gave her a feeling of safety to stroll through this mostly male crowd under the obvious protection of her husband.

Even though he was elegantly garbed in a brown tailcoat, tight buckskin breeches, and knee-high boots, the width of his shoulders and the muscles in his arms proclaimed him a highly fit gentleman.

Meredith saw many faces she recognized, but more that she did not. Surprisingly, there were few females among the throng and those she did glimpse were dressed in colorful garments that were fashionable yet daring. Some even sported cosmetics on their faces.

Meredith struggled not to stare or be too obvious in her curiosity about these women.

However, she was not the recipient of equally good manners.

She could hear distinct whispers as she walked by several gentlemen.

One dandy in an appalling jacket of canary yellow turned his head so quickly in her direction that he winced with pain, while another fumbled anxiously for the quizzing glass that hung from a black ribbon around his neck.

At last successful, he raised it to his eye and peered at her speculatively in openmouthed astonishment. More than anything, she wished she possessed the nerve to lift her chin and stick her tongue out at him.

Meredith could not determine if the astonishment she was receiving was because these men were unused to seeing true ladies at these events or because it was an amazing sight for the Marquess of Dardington to be seen escorting his wife anywhere .

“I see some people I know, but far more who are unfamiliar. Especially the women. Are there any . . .” Meredith’s voice trailed off as she sought to find the appropriate word.

“Mistresses, loose women, prostitutes among the crowd? Absolutely.” She heard Trevor’s low chuckle of mirth. “I venture to say you are the most respectable woman here, my lady.”

“Goodness, this is a fast crowd.” She could feel his eyes upon her, studying her.

Waiting for an outburst of indignity? It would never come.

Meredith was hardly in a position to pass judgment on any female, and well she knew it.

She dragged in a steadying breath. “May we see the horses before the race?”

“The stables are this way.”

They progressed to an area of temporary horse stalls that were bustling with activity.

Riders, grooms, and trainers were busy preparing the first set of horses for the race.

There were to be five running in the initial heat.

Meredith stared with full appreciation as the horses were led toward the starting line, snorting and stamping their hooves in anticipation.

With their sleek coats glistening in the sun, Meredith thought they were all magnificent.

“Which horse do you favor to win the contest?” Meredith asked.

“The handsome long-necked bay. He is a stallion with spirit as well as heart. They call him Rascal.”

Meredith smiled. “Is that not an unusual name for a racehorse?”

“I like it. Come, let’s take a seat.” The marquess guided her to a shaded area, then up the steps to the grandstand. He selected a row that held no other occupants. “Since I own the animal, my opinion of his name is really all that matters.”

“I was unaware you owned racehorses.”

“Rascal is the first. Consequently, this is also his first competitive showing. The trainer assures me he is ready.” Trevor settled in his seat. “I can only hope he has a respectable finish.”

“By respectable, I assume you mean winning.”

“What else?” He grinned enthusiastically. “Actually, since I have so recently acquired him, I’ve never seen the horse run against others. But your brother Jason insists Rascal is a prime animal.”

“If there is one thing that Jason knows well, ’tis horseflesh,” Meredith agreed.

“True. I feel lucky he was willing to part with the horse.”

Meredith’s spirits deflated. Both Jason and Jasper had been so sincere about trying to change their gambling habits.

She had almost begun to believe it was possible, thanks to Trevor’s encouragement.

Yet it seemed all three men were still very much involved with high stakes betting. It was a most disheartening admission.

“So you are now wagering to win racehorses as well as carriage horses,” Meredith commented dryly. “ ’Tis a step up, I suppose.”

“Wager?” The marquess shook his head. “I did not win Rascal in a card game. I bought him.”

“From my brother?”

“Yes.”

“Truly?”

The marquess narrowed his eyes. “I detect the beginnings of a scowl on your face, madame. Do you doubt my word on the matter? Would you like to see the bill of sale?”

“That is hardly necessary,” Meredith replied.

She knew she should make some sort of apology for her ungenerous remark, but the marquess’s righteous indignation rankled her.

After all, it was not as if he had never won and then lost a pair of prime cattle on the turn of a card. She knew for a fact he had done both.

“The horses are nearly at the starting line, but there is still time to place a small wager.” He glowered at her. “Unless you object?”

“I am not such a prude as to make a fuss over a side bet of a few shillings,” Meredith retorted.

“I am pleased to hear it.” He stared hard at the racecourse. “So whom do you chose to win?”

Meredith looked down in dismay at her reticule, which contained a second pair of gloves, smelling salts, and a linen handkerchief. “I brought no coin with me.”

“I shall advance you a stake. You may reimburse me from your winnings.”

Meredith could not contain her laugh. “And if I lose?”

His eyes searched hers. Then his lips curled in a devilish grin. “I imagine we can devise some other form of payment.”

His head was bent low, his face close enough that she could feel his warm breath upon her cheek. It was too tempting not to risk it. Meredith tilted her chin and let her lips settle on his.

She could feel his initial jolt of surprise at her action, but there was no resistance. Instead, he parted his lips and opened his mouth to her. The kiss deepened. Softness and warmth spread through her, making her heart beat faster and her insides quiver.

Yet it was Meredith who reluctantly ended the kiss, mindful that they were in a most public place.

“A bonus for the crowd today,” she whispered. “They get several exciting horse races along with a show from the Marquess of Dardington and his bride.”

The look he gave her sent a thrill along every inch of her skin. “Blushes from a woman who challenged me to frolic naked in a fountain? You are a fraud, madame.”

With a seductive wink, the marquess backed away. Blushing anew, Meredith reached for the parasol she had set beside her, but found it missing. How strange. Leaning over, she glanced at the grass below to see if it had fallen. It was no where in sight.

“Is anything amiss?”

Meredith somehow managed to swallow her scream of fright. She straightened and faced her husband. “How did you manage to place our wagers and return so quickly?”

He grinned boyishly. “I have not had the chance to place a bet. You never told me which horse you wanted to wager upon.”

“Rascal, naturally.”

“An optimist. I like that in a woman.”

She swayed toward him, for one wild moment thinking he might kiss her again. Their gazes remained locked, but then sanity prevailed. Pulling back before making an utter ninny of herself, Meredith lowered her eyes. “Hurry, or else you will miss the race.”

Only when she was certain Trevor had gone did Meredith lift her head. As she combed the foggy recesses of her confused mind trying to understand her husband, she remained certain of only one thing. Invitation. It was there in his eyes, in his smile, in his heated body and teasing words.

Just a few days prior, Trevor had spoken so openly about passion and physical desire, had adamantly insisted their relationship remain at a physical distance until it could be managed. Yet it that today he had not let one moment pass when an invitation had not been clearly issued to her.

A sexual, sensuous invitation.

She was acting just as bad, teasing and flirting with him for all she was worth. Yet she knew what she was about, knew her actions had been deliberate. Ever since her wedding night, Meredith had wanted nothing more than to break through the wall of indifference Trevor had erected between them.

She felt as if she had finally managed to chisel away a few of those staunch bricks. And the afternoon was not yet over!

The marquess returned just as the race began. The starting gun sounded and Meredith stood in excitement as the animals leaped forward, manes flying, hooves thundering along the hard-packed earth.

“Looks like our boy is making a slow start,” Trevor observed. “He’s dead last.”

“They have barely rounded the first turn,” Meredith protested. “Give him a chance.”

The horses turned into the back stretch, a jumbled mass of glistening coats and long powerful legs. Meredith stretched forward as they approached the next turn, amazed that the animals could endure such a difficult pace.

“It looks like he might be gaining,” Trevor declared.

“Then he still can win.”

“It all depends on how he runs the final stretch.”

Meredith bit her lip as she saw the pack approaching the finish line. One horse, a sturdy looking black, was clearly in the lead, but Rascal was next and moving up with impressive speed.

Meredith grabbed Trevor by the arm and squeezed, her nervous excitement escalating as the crowd set up a cheer.

“We won!” She turned to him, laughing with delight. “How marvelous! We won!”

“So we did.”

“I never knew it would be so rousing,” she yelled to be heard above the shouting. “This is wonderful.”