The marquess reached inside the boot of the carriage and drew out a small basket. He started toward her, then stopped.
“I give you fair warning, madame, if the wind carries that bit of lace and ruffles away I am not going to chase after it.”
“I understand.” She twirled the parasol smartly, then grinned. “If I lose it in the wind, you may simply buy me another.”
He frowned, but said no more. Meredith led the way, her heart pounding with eager excitement. In the distance she could see a haze of dust surrounding the course, could hear the sounds of laughter and shouting. The air fairly crackled with a light, festive mood.
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 wifeanywhere.
“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.”
