Charlotte didn’t answer right away but then nodded. “Yes. Let’s do it.”
“Let’s race for the trees. On three—one, two, three!” Emma shouted.
As soon as her heels touched the sides of the horse, Satine took off like a rocket. This was what Emma loved to do. She felt free. Free from her mother’s criticism and Society’s expectations, free from everything except the pleasure of the wind in her face. Her hat flew off, and the pins holding her chignon at her nape slid out. Her long hair unraveled and streamed behind her in the wind. It was glorious, and she was lost in the moment.
That is until Charlotte screamed.
Emma looked behind her. Lexie had reared. It was so unexpected that Charlotte didn’t have time to react, and she was thrown to the ground.
“Charlotte!” She pulled hard on Satine’s reins, turning the mare around, and raced back to her friend.
Peter reached Charlotte first. “My lady, are you hurt?”
Tears streamed down her face. “My leg,” she gasped.
“I must get help. Try not to move,” Peter said, vaulting back onto his horse and racing away.
When Emma reached her friend’s side, Charlotte was sobbing; her left leg bent at a weird angle. “I’m so sorry, Charlotte. It’s all my fault.” Before she had a chance to say anything more, Richmond rode up and jumped off his horse. He must have been out riding this morning because Peter was right behind him.
“Charlotte!” He ran to his sister.
“William, it hurts so much,” she cried.
“I know. One of the servants will go for the doctor,” he said, lifting her into his arms.
“Please don’t put me on the horse again,” she pleaded.
“I’ll hold you. Don’t fret.” Richmond handed her to Peter while he mounted his horse. Peter gently handed up Charlotte to him, and he settled his sister in his lap. “Charlotte, lean into me, and we’ll be back at the house inno time.”
“Your Grace—”
“Not now, Miss Bainbridge,” he barked and rode away.
“Let me help you back into the saddle, Miss Bainbridge,” Peter said.
“Thank you,” she said as Peter lifted her.
“We must get back to the stable,” he said, grabbing the reins of Charlotte’s horse.
Emma watched the duke’s receding back as he took his sister back to the manor. He hadn’t even looked at her. Did he know the accident was her fault? She should never have suggested the race. She’d never witnessed an accident like that. What if Charlotte’s leg didn’t heal correctly? What if she could never dance again? Would Charlotte ever forgive her? Could she ever forgive herself?
Guilt over the accident nearly overwhelmed Emma. Never had she dreamed that this was how the day would unfold. Charlotte was her dearest friend, and Emma would never do anything to hurt her, but she undeniably had. The sick feeling in her stomach persisted.
What have I done?
Once they reached the stables, Peter helped her dismount, and she ran into the manor.
Edgerton and Courtney were in the hall, directing the servants, when Richmond raced through the foyer and started for the stairs.
“Oh no, what happened?” Courtney asked.
“She was thrown from her horse.”
Edgerton directed one of the footmen to get the doctor. “Make haste and tell Dr. Elliott it’s an emergency.”
“Yes, my lord,” the footman said, racing down the hall.
Richmond climbed the stairs with Edgerton and Courtney following him to Charlotte’s bedchamber. He gently placed her on the bed.
