The Passionate Love of a Rake. Jane Lark

was a beautiful animal. She kissed its velvet cheek, and the mare’s nostrils flared. “You’re a beauty, aren’t you?” she whispered.

      The horse whickered, pushing its head gently against Jane. She gripped the loop of the bit at the edge of the horse’s mouth and looked into the animal’s large, dark eye. “Now, what did Lord Sparks say they called you?”

      “Her name is Minstrel, Ma’am,” the young groom acknowledged, bowing briefly. Then he smiled. “I helped to train her.”

      “And is she a good runner?” Jane’s hand fell on the animal’s flank.

      “Oh aye, Ma’am, she’s a real fine, fast runner.”

      “Then you would recommend I put my stake on her?”

      “My Lord said she’ll win us a fortune, Ma’am.”

      Jane smiled, but the boy’s gaze had passed across her shoulder.

      “Billy, get Minstrel walking.”

      Jane’s hands fell, and she turned to face Robert. He looked surprised at first, but then there was pleasure on his face. His hand lifted and removed his hat, and he bowed. Jane looked beyond him for Lady Baxter. She was nowhere near.

      “Your Grace,” Robert said, straightening up again. “Are you interested in my horse?”

      “Your horse?” Jane felt the rush of gaucheness, again.

      She was no Lady Baxter. Jane was unpolished in comparison and drab in her blacks, like a sparrow to a peacock, and yet, last night, he had chosen to take her home.

      “Yes.” He reached across her and stroked the mare. “Minstrel. We’ve high hopes for her. Have we not, Billy?”

      “Oh aye, my Lord.” The young groom glowed, clearly thrilled by Robert’s attention. “Her Grace was going to put down a stake. I said Minstrel’s a safe bet.”

      “As safe as ever a bet can be,” Robert expanded with a smile, but his brow furrowed then. “How did you get here?”

      He had not known she was here then. She was unsure if it made observing his flirtation better or worse. If he had not been lavishing his attention on Lady Baxter to rile Jane, then his attentions had been genuinely bestowed. Which was worse?

      “Lord Sparks invited Lady Rimes. I came with them.” Her heart raced. “I should go back. They’ll be looking for me.”

      “I’ll walk with you.” His words were a statement, not an offer. He held out his arm. She did not take it. She was too out of charity with him today.

      “I can manage alone.”

      “But you need not.” He blocked her path as she moved. “You do not have to take my arm if you don’t wish to, but allow me to escort you, Jane.”

      His behaviour angered her. He acted as though nothing had occurred last night, and as though nothing had occurred today, as though Lady Baxter had not recently been acting brazen beside him. Jane brushed past him and strode away, but her pace was hindered by the dense, spongy grass.

      “Jane!” He was at her side and speaking in a fast, sharp whisper as he bent towards her. “I am sorry for what happened last night. I realise it was wrong of me to assume … ” He stopped speaking as they passed two men, and she glanced up at him, only to feel the full force of his charm as he smiled. “I should not have expected it of you so soon.”

      She was astonished. Did he think if he’d taken longer, she would have let him progress? Of course, it was nothing to do with her feelings and all to do with his mastery. “Women are not mares to be coaxed across the last fence, my Lord, which is what you seem to think. And may I ask; where is your companion, Lady Baxter?”

      He looked dumbstruck for a moment, but only a moment. Almost immediately, he was back in control, and a bark of laughter escaped his throat. “So, that is it, is it, Jane? You’re jealous.”

      She realised, from the sudden bright knowing look in his eyes, he was not just speaking of today. He understood her words too well. He was thinking of last night.

      “Well, sorry, Jane. I apologise for having a life after you. What did you expect? That, while you made merry with Sutton’s wealth and status, I would twiddle my thumbs and wait for you, counting the days until the old man croaked? No, Jane. I moved on.”

      She opened her mouth, but had nothing to say. She could not explain to him in a single sentence how she had felt forced to take Sutton. Or how she had stood and watched him, Robert, the man she loved, ride away, and felt her heart leave with him, nor how she had cried herself to sleep for years, longing for him. And anyway, that Robert was in the past. This one would not even wish to know.

      “I have nothing to say to you,” she snapped and turned away. She walked hastily, but her foot caught on an uneven bulge of grass, and her ankle twisted. He caught her arm and stopped her fall.

      His touch engendered a memory of the night before. She did not welcome it.

      He bent to her ear, just as she had seen him do to Lady Baxter, and whispered, “Then what was last night about?”

      “Last night was nothing but nostalgia and an appalling mistake.” She pulled her arm free then hurried away, gratefully hearing him delayed by an acquaintance while she was absorbed in the jostling crowd as people moved forward to watch the race.

      Jane looked up and saw Violet with Lord Sparks in his box and hoped the crush would deter Robert. But glancing back, she saw him a few feet behind her, still following. She strode the last few yards with unladylike haste and quickly climbed the steps of the box, hoping Robert would give up the chase.

      “I was about to send Lord Sparks to look for you,” Violet chimed as the footman opened the gate. “Where on earth did you get to? Oh … ” She stopped.

      “Her Grace was admiring the form of my mare.” Robert’s slow drawling tone rose from behind Jane. “Did you wish to lay a bet, Your Grace? I would be happy to take it for you before you miss your chance.”

      Jane turned and gave him a false smile. “I believe Lady Baxter is waving to you, my Lord. Perhaps you ought to return to your companion?”

      He looked amused, while Jane wished for a hole to jump into.

      “Lady Baxter is quite able to cope without me for a little while longer. She is with friends. Would you like me to take your bet or not, Your Grace?” She wanted to say not, but before Violet and Lord Sparks it would seem churlish.

      Her fingers shaking, blushing again, she lifted the reticule which hung from her wrist, but Robert’s hand lay over hers then. “Simply tell me how much. We may settle up later.”

      “Five pounds, that’s all,” she acknowledged.

      His hand lifted, but as it did, he leaned forward and whispered, “I asked Lady Baxter a week ago. It would have been cruel to withdraw the invitation now. I may have the right to be angry at you, but still, I find I would not wish to see you upset for the world. Enjoy the race, Your Grace. Minstrel shall not let you down.” The last words were voiced loudly as he stepped back. Then he turned and walked away.

      Disgusted with herself, Jane took her seat on the other side of Lord Sparks to Violet and accepted the opera glasses the footman passed her to enable her to see the horses in more detail as they raced. The animals were already being led into the traces. She looked through the glasses and watched for a moment, but could not resist the urge to turn them on the other boxes. She spotted Lady Baxter, then followed the direction of her gaze to see Robert transferring the bet.

      His expression was stiff, masked. He turned back towards the boxes and began walking. He smiled, Jane presumed, at Lady Baxter, and lifted a hand.

      Jane turned the glasses onto the group within his box. They were mostly men, but there were three women. They all seemed in high spirits.

      What