“Your charming wife was telling me all about you, Your Grace,” the man stated, smiling cheerily as he rose from the seat.
Constantine observed the gray brows and hairs peeking from the stout man’s top hat, along with slight wrinkles and a rounded jaw, and guessed the man was in his fifties. Still, his muddy brown eyes were sharp, matching the coy smile that lingered on his thin lips.
Constantine smirked as he glanced toward Elara.
“Has she now?” he mused, wasting no time in taking the vacant seat. “Pray tell, who are you and what have you been talking about with my wife?”
“This is Mr. Albert Preacher,darling.He is one of the bookkeepers for the race’s bets. I have been telling him how you have yet to explain the rules of betting to me, and he was kind enough to provide me such an education.”
Constantine’s demeanor changed immediately. He had been looking for Mr. Preacher all week, somehow always just missing him. His name had been written several times in the accounting pages Constantine had discovered.
“Ah, a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Preacher,” Constantine greeted, tipping his hat toward the man. “Yes, I suppose I have been remiss in teaching my wife how to place bets, though I am not sure where I stand on women gambling.”
“Ah, but if money is made, whether it be the husband or the wife, is it not overall good for the household?” Mr. Preacher remarked with a smirk.
“You tell him, Mr. Preacher,” Elara goaded, making both men chuckle.
“Your wife is a lovely, spirited woman with a sharp eye,” Mr. Preacher praised. “She told me how she has been studying thehorses all week, and I believe her assumptions on today’s winner may very well be correct.”
“Is that so?” Constantine mused. He glanced toward Elara, then handed her his glass so he could reach into his jacket for his wallet.
“Very well then, Mr. Preacher,” Constantine stated, counting out bills, “Put two hundred on my wife’s bet if you would. Make the odds twenty-to-one. Lady Elara Harcourt, Duchess of Ashworth. I have already placed my own bet beforehand.”
Constantine heard Elara gasp as Mr. Preacher’s eyes lit up. He then reached into his own jacket and procured a notebook and pencil, quickly jotting down the bet.
“Harcourt, was it?” Mr. Preacher mused. “I am familiar with the name, Your Grace.”
“Yes,” Elara spoke up, “Mr. Preacher was just telling me of how he knew your brother,darling.Is that not a funny coincidence?”
“Very funny indeed,” Constantine murmured. A moment later, the sound of a horn blared through the air, announcing that the race was about to begin.
“I should get back to my regular seat in case anyone else wishes to make some last-minute bets,” Mr. Preacher stated as he tipped his hat toward both of them. “Best of luck on your bets, Your Graces. I shall hopefully see you both afterward.”
Constantine and Elara dipped their heads respectfully toward him and watched together as the man waddled off.
“How on earth did you manage that?” Constantine said under his breath as they both turned toward the track.
“A woman has her wiles,” Elara replied, grinning. “You would know them if you allowed me to work with you more often.”
Constantine smirked as they glanced toward one another, and he felt a surge of pride as she cockily winked at him. He had to admit that she had accomplished more in a few minutes than he had been attempting for the better part of the week.
“How much do you know about horses, then?” he asked.
“I know that they are large and that they are beautiful,” she answered. “And I know that Houndstooth has very kind eyes.”
The sound Constantine made beside her was not quite a groan, though it was close enough that she had to press her lips together to keep from laughing.
“You placed a wager based on a horse’s eyes?” he laughed.
“I placed a wager based on instinct,” she corrected, with great dignity. “Which is an entirely different thing.”
“Have you done this before?”
“No, my brothers never brought me to the races,” she said. “They never taught me very much about horses at all, truth be told. I was not permitted to ride alone until I was nearly seventeen, and even then, only in the park, with a groom following close behind me.”
“So they were overprotective of you,” Constantine murmured.
“Tremendously,” she agreed, and though her voice came out fond, there was an ache beneath the word. “Evander especially. He had very firm ideas about what was safe and what was not, and I fell firmly on the side of things that required constant watching over.” She paused, her eyes on the track but herthoughts elsewhere. “I used to find it maddening, you know. I would argue with him terribly about it. And now I would give anything in the world to have him standing over my shoulder again, telling me what I ought and ought not to do.”
