“What do you mean when you say things like that?” I tapped my foot impatiently.
All he did was smirk at me with an air of pity. “Oh, it’s nothing. I am sure she will explain her affliction to you.”
I nodded, carefully choosing my words. “Yes, she has told me of her anemia, it was a feat convincing her to eat something other than candied apricots.”
Her father burst into a snark of laughter. “Oh, did you now?” He shook his head and finished his drink, standing as he adjusted thebuttons of his vest. “Good for you. I don’t mean to laugh—truly, good for you! She is so very lucky to have you.”
I stood, knowing my company was no longer needed.
He chuckled, slapping my shoulder when he came around the desk to lead me out. “Just make sure you two get some air, it’ll be good for the both of you.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Performer
This may have been the first time Arkady had asked me to attend anything formal with him, officially. Something of his own idea, his own will, not due to any hidden bodies or social formalities. Which was either evidence of our bond—of which I did more speculating on than anything—or it was cause for suspicion. I would like to believe the former.
Morris Park was a sight to behold on days like this. The Belmont Stakes was equal parts pageantry and gambling. The stands packed people in like tinned fish, accompanied by questionable scents intermingling with perfume and sweat from the adrenaline or the anxiety of lost wages. On the other side, those who did not partake in the stands had parked their carriages and set up picnics in preparation to watch the ever-so-fleeting event.
Such excitement and intrigue, attending at my husband’s insistence, might be the only thing that would bring me into Westchester.
The dress I chose was cream in color with rustic orange ribbons as details, matching the florals on my fascinator. My parasol was made of the same fabric as the dress, ribbons and all. I would have felt quite pretty if it weren’t for the distracting smell of horse manure.
Arkady wore something nice, his accessories matching mine.
It was too perfect, even considering the occasion.
The clubhouse building kept a careful eye over the park, welcoming its visitors for the brief spectacle. Women in their finest, a sea bobbing in fascinators and hats, ribbons and flowers, parasols and fans clutched in their modestly gloved fingers. Men were nice in appearance and tailoring, but never in demeanor. The only gentlemen at the racetrack were the stallions.
We were headed toward one of the viewing areas before I was led beyond the stairway.
I squinted at Arkady. “We passed the stairs.”
“I know.” He had some sort of mysterious smirk.
He held my arm a bit tighter as he led me down to the working area. We passed through to the backstretch of the track.
From far away, these horses were unremarkable. They had four legs, were usually brown. There wasn’t much to them. But up close, I could see the appeal.
Even as one passed, side by side with their lead ponies, the thud of the hooves against the ground was assertive, proud. They were larger than life, or at least the stature of the jockeys made it seem so. The thoroughbreds’ muscles rippled under hides, vibrating engines ready to be released onto the track.
“High-strung,” I commented, “that one is already sweating.”
“Just like you,” Arkady teased, “though I would pay to see you in sport.”
“Not a chance.” I glared at him, fussing with the pins of my fascinator.
“Which one will you put your money on?” He leaned low to speak in my ear.
I bit my lip, looking from horse to horse. They all looked the same to me, not much to go on in terms of the sport itself.
“I like the polka dots,” I said, pointing.
“Which one?”
“White and blue.”
“Are you choosing based on the silks or the horse?”
