“I’m not racing you!” Hudsyn called after her.
“In that case, I shall win by default.” She turned and flashed a dimpled smile at Hudsyn before breaking into a canter.
Jack saw his opportunity. “I’m in the mood for a race. Hudsyn, will you keep Lady Astyr company until I return?”
He spurred his horse into a gallop and raced after Ottilie before Henry had time to respond. Despite himself, he wanted an explanation from her. He wanted to know if it had all been an act. And if it had, he wanted confirmation of her betrayal. He always looked his enemies in the eye, and he’d never shot a man in the back. If she intended to put a bullet through his heart, the least she could do was look him in the eye.
It only took a minute for his gelding to catch up with Ottilie’s mare. She slowed her horse when Jack came up beside her.
“Where’s Henry? He’s supposed to be racing me.”
“He doesn’t want to race.”
“And you do?”
“No,” Jack said.
“What prompted you to leave Lady Astyr’s side? You seem so terribly fond of her.” Her tone was teasing rather than angry, and Jack realized she hadn’t taken his courting of Lady Astyr seriously. He would play her game for now, but not for much longer.
“I have something of interest to show you. Will you come with me?”
Ottilie looked over her shoulder. “Henry will be worried if I leave the party.”
“No, he won’t. He thinks you and I are racing. We aren’t going far, and we’ll be back before he has time to miss us.”
“Very well, then.”
Jack directed his horse to West Carriage Drive and across Serpentine Bridge. The waters below glistened, and Jack was reminded of the last time he’d been on the bridge and in the park with Ottilie. The memory soured his mood all the more, and he spurred his horse into a canter across the park, stopping only when he reached the exit at Grosvenor Gate.
“I thought you didn’t want to race?” Ottilie brought her mare to rest next to Jack’s thoroughbred.
“I didn’t,” he confirmed.
“And why did you canter across the park as if a band of ruffians chased you?”
“Did you have trouble keeping up?” he asked.
“No—” she lifted her chin—“but a fair warning would have been nice.”
“Well, we only have a short distance to go from here, and Park Lane is too crowded for a canter, so you needn’t worry about me racing off again.”
“You want to leave the park?” Ottilie said.
“Only to go a short distance.”
“Where to?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” He trotted a short way along Park Lane and turned onto Upper Brook Street. A minute later, his horse came to rest in front of his newly purchased townhome.
“Have we arrived?” Ottilie asked.
“We have.” He gestured to the white-pillared townhome. “Behold my new home.”
Ottilie gaped at the house, too stunned to speak.
“It’s been empty for three years, but that doesn’t concern me. I intend to tear it down and rebuild.”
“Tear it down?” Ottilie looked at the house and back at Jack. “You mustn’t! Have you seen the inside? It’s a beautiful house.”
