HÉLÈNE HAD ALWAYS LOVED THEraces at Epsom Downs. She was aware that few women shared her opinion; they preferred the social parade of Ascot, where no one seemed to care about the horses at all. It was just a fashion show to them, an excuse to gossip about everyone else in the Royal Enclosure.
Epsom Downs was positively shabby by contrast. The stands surrounding the racetrack were constructed of simple white deal board; even here in a box, the only sign of exclusivity was the fringed red baize that swagged along the walls.
Hélène braced her palms on the railing of Lord and Lady Hardwicke’s box, vaguely listening to the chatter of the guests behind her, including her parents. Down on the course, men with brooms and shovels were smoothing out the divots made by yesterday’s racers. The first race would start soon; she could see grooms walking the horses behind the starting gates.
“Who do you favor?”
A thrill shot through Hélène as Prince Eddy came to stand next to her. In the sultry heat of early June, he wore a gray morning suit like all the other gentlemen, yet to Hélène he shone as if lit by a spotlight.
“I wasn’t sure I would get to see you today,” she said underher breath. Eddy was always at Epsom—his father was a racing enthusiast, or more accurately a gambling enthusiast—but it was hard to know whether Eddy would be able to sneak away at events like this.
“And miss the chance to watch the race with the one person whose opinion I value?” Eddy’s mouth lifted in a smile. “You haven’t answered my question. Which horse do you favor?”
“Galahad,” Hélène declared.
“Really? My money is on Orlando.”
“The Earl of Sackville’s horse? ButSporting Lifemagazine ranked him near the bottom of the entrants!”
Eddy chuckled at her admission of having read a men’s magazine. “Well, I disagree with theSporting Lifeeditors. Orlando was sired by Mortimer,” he added, naming a famous racehorse from ten years ago, “and lineage inevitably plays a role when it comes to racing.”
Not just racing,Hélène thought. Her own lineage seemed to cause her nothing but problems.
Out of unspoken agreement, she and Eddy had drawn farther along the railing, away from the crowds that would soon begin to press forward. He stepped closer, his shoulder brushing hers in a movement that might have looked accidental to a bystander. “Are we agreed upon a wager, then? Orlando versus Galahad?”
“I suppose it depends on the stakes.”
Eddy lifted an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting?”
“Oh, I’m sure I can find a way to make you pay off your debts,” Hélène replied, her tone deliberately, deliciously, vague.
But Eddy’s next words weren’t light or teasing at all. “If I win, will you come to Balmoral with me?”
Her heart skidded. “What?”
“I can’t actually host you at Balmoral Castle,” Eddy explained. “But I asked Louise if you could stay with her, and she agreed. She and Alexander are close by at Mar Lodge.”
He had involved hissister? “Eddy. What did you tell Louise?”
“The truth. That I can’t face Balmoral without you there.”
When Hélène stared at him, he hurried to add: “We can trust Louise, I swear. I wouldn’t have dreamed of mentioning this to Maud or George, but Louise and I…we’ve always understood each other. She supports us.”
Hélène’s heart seized at the searching, pleading look in his eyes. He leaned a hip against the wooden railing in a deceptively casual gesture, but his attention wasn’t on the racetrack. It was on her.
“Eddy,” Hélène whispered. “Turn around.” The trumpeters were gathering near the starting gates; the race would begin soon.
“Just—tell me what you’re thinking,” he insisted.
She was thinking that things had escalated further than either of them had anticipated. That seeing Eddy in London, illicitly, was nowhere near as risky as sneaking around under his family’s noses.
“You will love Scotland, Hélène!” Eddy had turned to face the racetrack, but his hands gripped the railing with uncharacteristic tightness. “I want to show you everything—the hills so steep that you can only navigate on horseback, the loch where I learned to swim, the way the brush looks at twilight.”
Oh, this was dangerous. If they were ever exposed,shewas the one who would suffer for it, not him. She stood to lose so much.
When she’d begun their affair last year, she’d never dreamed that it would go on this long. Or that the stakes would grow so high.
“I will come,” she heard herself say, and Eddy broke into asmile. Hélène realized, then, just how much she adored those smiles—how thrilled she was to be the cause of them.
