Chapter Twenty-Two

T here was no time for a word with Raven, to thank him, to understand the meaning of his being there and taking Dick's side again.

Cassie, Dick, and Jay started up the hill to the paddock with Hermes. Jay held Hermes's lead, while Dick and Cassie walked on either flank. At first, Hermes tossed his head fretfully, his ears pinned back, his gait choppy. Cassie walked as near him as she could, patting his shoulder, and speaking to him, hoping her voice would soothe him. She told him that no harm had come to Dick. She told him that he was going to enjoy running as he was meant to run. She told him that Lester Oakley would keep him safe. As they approached the paddock, Hermes began to calm, his walk became steady, his ears came up and a little forward. Cassie shot Jay a relieved glance.

They were almost the last horse to arrive, and Lester broke into a wide smile when he saw them. In no time Lester, in Verwood's dark-blue silks, mounted and joined the parade around the paddock. There Hermes drew attention with his glossy coat, strong muscles, and tucked-in belly. He looked like a horse ready to run. People around them took note.

"Excuse me, miss," one of the blacklegs asked, "is that your horse?"

Cassie nodded.

"His first time out, is it?"

"Yes."

The man turned back to his race card. "He has the outside position."

"He'll do well there," she said. "Where he can see the field and not get boxed in. He loves to run."

Once the parade finished, the gate was opened, and the horses moved onto the track itself. Cassie stepped into the owner's enclosure, largely dominated by men, but with wives and daughters there as well. She spotted Grandmama in the grandstand, her usual imperious self, talking to the Duke of Richmond. Whatever happened in the race, they had broken through things that had held them back for three years. In minutes the flag would drop, and Hermes would have his long-delayed chance to run.

*

Raven slipped back into the enclosure where Amabel sat in urgent conversation with her friends. He felt the difference in the conversation at once. Tyne glanced his way with a look of smug triumph. Amabel jumped up when she saw Raven.

"Where's Hugh? Tyne says the stewards have taken him and locked him up." She clung to Raven's arm.

"It's true." Raven held himself very still. Conscious of hostile looks from everyone around them. Tyne was holding up Lady Ramsbury. Raven was the outsider that he had been all along. He had not broken the barrier he'd set out to break all those years ago.

"But Hugh's a gentleman," Amabel protested. "How dared they. You must get him released."

Raven shook his head. "Your brother attempted to interfere with a horse."

"You can't believe that," she said, stepping back from him.

"There is a witness."

"A witness? Oh, the deaf boy with the donkey. Tyne said he was there. No one will believe him."

"Why shouldn't they?"

Amabel stared at him as if she thought him particularly dense. She lowered her head, so that he stared briefly at the frothy lace and rose-colored silken bows of her hat. When she lifted her face to him again, she gave him one of the pretty glances that had so often dazzled him. "Hugh is my brother. If you love me, you must tell the stewards that he was not at fault. They will believe you."

"I can't do that, Amabel." Raven spoke as gently as he could. On the track, the flag dropped and the horses thundered past the enclosure. The crowd erupted in cheers. He hoped Cassie's horse had a good run.

"Hugh was right about you," Amabel said bitterly. "You are not a real gentleman." She stepped back, tugged his ring from her finger, and threw it at him. It landed somewhere in the grass at his feet.

It was the truth. He was not a gentleman in her eyes. "Are you releasing me?" he asked.

Tyne stepped to Amabel's side and took her arm in his. "She's dismissing you, Cole. You have no place here. You will find London's doors closed to you, and you will hear from Lord Ramsbury's solicitor."

Raven gave Amabel a parting look. Her English femininity, like a spring garden had drawn him in London in the winter after the fire, but he was, perhaps, a man with a taste for autumn, for a garden tested and shaken by blasts and vivid with warmth.

"My best wishes for your happiness, madam," he said. With a quick bow, he turned away. He squeezed through the crowd straining toward the rail as the horses drew near again. As he passed from the enclosure, the crowd exploded in cheers.