Meg couldn’t help it. She sat up straight and let her hand drop away from her face, renewed hope coursing through her. “It’s not your fault, Sarah. It’s not as if he’s always loved me back.”
“No, but as Lucy says, perhaps he could. If given the right circumstances to get to know you.”
“Precisely,” Lucy said. “Which is why I’ve been trying to put them in each other’s paths. This race is the perfect venue to do so yet again.”
“But he’ll be racing,” Meg said. “Not paying attention to me.”
“Both men are racing to impress you if I don’t mistake my guess,” Lucy replied.
“No, that cannot be true.” Meg shook her head, afraid to believe, but desperately hoping Lucy was right.
“What if it’s true, Meggie?” Sarah wore a hopeful smile as she tugged on her gloves.
“I’m certain it’s true,” Lucy said as the coach rolled to a stop on the heath. “Now, Sarah, let’s join forces as ladies always should and go see to it that your brother falls madly in love with your closest friend.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
When they arrived at Hampstead Heath, Meg couldn’t help but notice Lady Eugenia. The woman wore a pretty lavender-colored gown. Her light hair was hidden beneath her obviously costly bonnet, and she stood at Hart’s side with a sunny smile on her face. Meg narrowed her eyes when the woman put her hand on Hart’s arm and laughed at something he said. Harlot. Obviously.
“I’ll jot off with Derek to set up the starting point,” Lucy said.
Sarah turned to Meg. “I’ll distract Lady Eugenia. You go greet Hart.”
Meg turned to do just that, but Sir Winford came bustling up to them, leading his horse behind him.
“Miss Timmons, there you are. I was hoping you would come,” the knight said, a wide smile on his face. He looked relieved to see her.
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Lucy replied, her expression pitying.
After they all greeted one another, Meg eyed Sir Winford’s horse. Lucy was right: The animal, while quite fine, was no match for Goliath. “Are you feeling confident?” Meg asked him, after Lucy and Sarah excused themselves and trotted off across the field in different directions.
“Yes, indeed.” Sir Winford patting his horse’s flank. “Though I’ve heard Highgate can be reckless,” he continued with a disapproving look on his face.
“Oh, he’s not reckless, he’s—” Meg stopped and coughed into her glove. It was better to leave off the rest of that sentence. Why should she defend Hart to Sir Winford?
“Will you give me a token, Miss Timmons? Something I can take with me during the race, to know I have your support?” Sir Winford began to reach for her hand but stopped himself.
Now probably wouldn’t be the time to mention that Lucy had fifty quid riding on Hart. She glanced up into Sir Winford’s bright blue eyes. The knight seemed so sincere, so kindhearted. Meg mentally kicked herself for the hundredth time. Why, oh why, couldn’t she love someone as simple to love as Sir Winford would be? No, she had to love the most complicated man in the kingdom.
Meg glanced toward Hart only to see Lady Eugenia tying a lavender scarf to his sleeve. Meg clenched her jaw. “Yes, of course. I’ll give you a token.” She pulled her own dark blue scarf from her bonnet and tied it around Sir Winford’s sleeve. “There. There you are.”
Sir Winford smiled broadly, bowed to her, mounted his horse, and took off at a clip toward the starting point.
Meg tried not to look in Hart’s direction again, pacing back and forth along the uneven ground. She was just about to go back and sit in the coach until the race began when the sound of horse hooves came trotting toward her.
She looked up to see Hart halt Goliath next to her. He wore tight riding breeches, black top boots, and a dark gray coat, and looked as if he’d been born to ride the magnificent steed.
He tipped his hat to her. “I wasn’t certain I’d see you here today.”
“Why is that?” She desperately hoped she sounded nonchalant. Why did the man have to look so good in riding breeches? Why hadn’t she taken note of what Sir Winford was wearing?
“You mentioned something about needing to pack for your move.”
“Oh yes. That.” That was nonchalant, wasn’t it?
“Are you still leaving?” he asked next.
She reached out and patted the horse’s neck. “My father is leaving. I am obliged to go with him.”
