“Then why the tight smile and hooded glances, Clara?”
She remained silent, subjecting him to a long examination. “I am wondering which Stratton I will be with today. The one from last night, or the one from this morning.”
“I am always the same man.”
“Are you? I was a stranger in that house this morning after we returned from the garden. A stranger to you. In turn, you were a stranger to me. I think I know why, and how finding me at that pool affected you badly. However much I sympathize, I did not care for being packed off this morning with less ceremony or kindness than some whore you found at a tavern.” Emotions other than anger colored her little scold.
“You exaggerate. I was not so cold as that.”
“I doubt you remember well enough to know. You were thoroughly immersed in your thoughts, and none of them had to do with me.”
“Of course you were in my thoughts.”
She cocked her head. “Not in a good way, then.”
He did not want to have this argument, here of all places. He spoke the words needed to ensure that would not happen. “Then I ask you to forgive me for this morning, Clara. You did not deserve the way I spoke to you when I found you at the pool and the way I then spoke little afterward. My distraction had nothing at all to do with you.”
Only that was not entirely true. It was all of one piece, wasn’t it? What had happened in that clearing had sent him away from England and brought him back, and she was not totally separate from it even if he tried to tell himself she was.
She knew that too. He could see it in her eyes.
“Familiarity, even passion, does not change who we are,” she said.
It sounded like a condemnation of who he was, and an epitaph for their love affair.
“Althea has suggested that I stay in Epsom with her tonight. Actually she wants us to take advantage of that house for several nights at least.”
“You can do that if you choose. However, I hope you do not.”
From the smile she gave him, he could not tell what she would do. She turned her attention to the grandstand beside them. “If we stroll near that wall ever so casually, do you think I can ogle the royal dukes without being too obvious?”
“I will introduce you to some of them, so you don’t have to ogle at all.”
He escorted her over and did so. The royal dukes each had a fine eye for women, and all had known her father. A few appeared surprised to see her in the company of the Duke of Stratton. They chatted for a while and were only interrupted by the shouts from the crowd indicating the race had started. They returned to the front of the stand.
Clara watched the race with a rapt expression. Brentworth shouted his horse on, and all around them a din of excitement grew. When the horses moved out of view, Clara steadied herself by grasping Adam’s arm and bent out of the stand as far as she could to keep them in view.
It ended within minutes as the horses charged to the finish. Money began changing hands.
“Almost,” Adam said to Brentworth, who scowled mightily at the results.
“That does not save me from this.” He felt in his pocket and extracted a stack of banknotes. Peeling off a hundred, he handed it over to a waiting Langford.
“You bet against his horse but ate his food and enjoyed his hospitality?” Clara asked.
“I knew Moses would win. I have been watching him for a year. I even tried to buy him from the Duke of York.” Langford grinned down at the banknotes. “It is much like finding money lying on the street. It begs to be wasted on decadent behavior.”
“You will think of something appropriate,” Brentworth said.
Langford looked over his shoulder at the lovely Mrs. Harper. “I think I will at that.”
Down below, the crowd shifted like a huge animal coming to life. It grew tentacles as people walked away in streams. There would be entertainments on the field for those looking to make a day of it, but the main performance had ended.
Still flushed with excitement, Clara peered around the stand. “Ah, there she is.” She waved to her friend, who sat near the rear, talking with a woman.
Althea excused herself and came to join them. “Should we look for Mr. Brady?” she asked Clara.
“I suppose we should. I will take my leave of Brentworth.” She walked away.
