Escapade by Joan Smith

Author:Joan Smith [Smith, Joan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1977-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The first event in the tournament was to be the curricle race. The vehicles were tooled up to the starting point by the drivers, each with a band of ribbon streaming from his hat. They made a gay sight in their decorated carriages, and a pleasant cheer arose from the gathered crowd. A footman had been given a hurried lesson on the long horn by Miss Prentiss, and blasted four hoots to initiate the race. The ladies, always excepting Lady Honor, stood cheering their knights on, and from then till the drivers had disappeared down the road, executed an alarmingly sharp turn, and come back into view, there was little for the girls to do but talk and call each other by their first names some more. Miss Prentiss, now Belle to all, sought to ingratiate herself with Ella, when she observed that her tale-bearing had not turned her against Clare, as she had hoped. It had seemed to have almost the reverse effect, for Miss Fairmont was a little livelier than usual.

She formed the excellent notion of inviting her to her home for New Year’s, to take part in the play about Anne Boleyn.

“Come for the New Year, Ella. Clare is coming.” As things stood, it seemed a good deal more likely he would come if Ella were known to be of the party, and one could always forget to remind her later if the friendship with the Duke petered out. “We’ll get together in London, and you can choose a part. Jane Seymour is not taken. I have given her some very good lines.” She had to cut the conversation short as Sherry was lending an ear, and she was definitely not to be invited, however strongly she hinted. Belle needn’t have worried. Sherry hadn’t the slightest notion of inviting herself until Clare’s plans were stated.

In a short time the sound of wheels and hooves bespoke the return of the charioteers, and the ladies had once more to urge their knight on. Harley and Clare were bolting along, neck to neck, with Bippy two lengths behind, and Peters out of it. He had made a poor turn, and lost a minute righting himself after the disaster. Every one of the young ladies was cheering Clare on to break the tie. Even Lady Honor said in a calm, deliberate voice, “Clare must win.” It was impossible he should not when Honor had decreed it, and he edged Harley out by a half a length, to be welcomed from his curricle by a shouting mob. Belle had been defoliating roses under the disapproving eye of the Duchess while she stood chatting, and had two handfuls of red petals to shower over him.

“That’s one for us, Ella,” Clare said when he had shaken himself free of petals. “Have you no favor to confer on me? A token of your gratitude?”

She reached down and grabbed a sprig of red clover from the lawn and handed it to him. “In the lapel, if you please,” he said.

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