Chapter 12 #2
Why had Lyness not thought to tell her more of racing before?
Of course, she would not know how everything worked.
She had never had an opportunity to attend a race like this one.
Watching the play of emotions on her face, curiosity, interest, understanding, soothed some of the ache of not being the one to help her learn.
“It tests breeding and stamina both,” Roman replied, pleased to instruct. “The trumpet will sound when the horses are called to the post. There—listen.”
The clear note carried across the field, bright and ceremonial. Lady Emily turned her head toward the sound, her expression calm, attentive. Beautiful.
“It has a fine clarity to it,” she said. “No wonder the crowd stirs at once.”
Roman smiled, likely admiring her poise. “You will find there is little else that can rouse York so swiftly.”
She smiled in return—polite, perhaps even amused—and within Lyness something unnamable in his chest gave the smallest twist. Roman’s charm came easily with Lady Emily, and watching them together gave Lyness the faintest ache, as though he stood too near a fire he could neither approach nor escape.
His brother had not had much luck in courtship before. But this time might prove different. This time, when Lyness fought to wish his brother well with every breath he took.
He looked out instead over the course. The horses were being led out now, their coats shining along with all their tack, and their heads tossing in restless movement.
Their jockeys’ silks flashed like pennants against the green.
A stir went through the balcony as men adjusted their wagers and ladies leaned forward to watch.
Roman continued, pointing out the landmarks with confident ease—the turn by the copse of trees, the slight rise near the finish, the white post below the stand.
Emily listened with genuine interest, asking perceptive questions about the upkeep of the grounds and ownership that made Lyness’s heart lift in spite of himself.
She was no fool, this woman who thought herself unsuited to the ranks of nobility. She listened and observed as though committing every detail to memory.
When the trumpet called again, louder this time, the murmur of the crowd deepened into a single pulse of anticipation. Roman braced his hands on the railing.
“They are starting next,” he said. “Watch the far side. The moment the flag drops, you will feel it before you see it.”
Lyness fixed his eyes on the distant shimmer of horses, but his thoughts stayed nearer. On Lady Emily and to the way her voice softened when she asked questions, and the quiet steadiness she brought even to excitement.
It was nothing more than admiration. It must be nothing more.
The trumpet called once more. The handkerchief fell. The race began.
He turned his attention to the horses, though he had not placed any bets on the outcome of this particular race. Even with Kettleburn’s enthusiasm for his horses. Lyness had never been much for gambling on things when he had no hand in the outcome.
The first race ended amid cheers and groans from winners and losers, respectively.
And Miss Nelson came to ask if Lady Emily would watch the next race with her group of female friends.
After a nod from her sister-in-law, Lady Emily took her leave from their party, promising to return after the second race.
Roman escorted her to them. Of course.
Lyness needed to get hold of himself. Quickly.
He took off his hat to run his hand through his hair, then replaced it, wishing he did not feel like such a fool.
If Roman had not expressed interest, had not moved into the early stages of courtship with Lady Emily, things would be different.
Lyness would not feel the pressure of impending catastrophe pounding against his heart.
Watching as a woman he admired grew closer to his brother left him at odds with himself.
The crowd on the balcony pressed closer to the railing as the horses were led to the post. The air itself vibrated with anticipation.
Lady Juniper leaned nearer to Lyness, her fan half-raised against the glare. “Your brother seems determined to impress my sister-in-law,” she murmured, eyes following Lord Hartwell and Lady Emily where they stood near the edge of the crowd.
Lyness kept his gaze outward, though her direct statement startled him. He had to clear his throat before speaking, or his tone would not sound cordial. “He usually succeeds when he sets his mind to something.”
It was true enough. Roman had a gift for charm, for shining wherever he stood.
A few disappointments in earlier courtship attempts had seemingly taught him enough for a better go round this time.
Lyness had long since learned to step quietly out of that light and let it fall where it would.
He preferred that it fall on Roman, in most instances. Most. This one proved more difficult.
Sterling joined them with a glass of refreshment for his wife, his gaze finding his sister before he relaxed at Lady Juniper’s side.
“She is doing well today. I had worried this would be too much for her.” He shared a quick look with his wife before clarifying to Lyness, “Everything about an event like this is still new to her. Though my sister is every inch a lady, there are still facets of the position that flummox us all.”
“She carries herself with grace,” Lady Juniper said with a fondness that made her husband smile.
Lyness inclined his head in agreement, though the words he would use to describe her caught somewhere behind his ribs. Lady Emily carried herself with grace, without question. Kindness and warmth, too, and an openness that unsettled him.
The trumpet called again. A hush swept through the stands. Then, like the sudden break of a wave, the second race began. The crowd erupted into cheers, laughter, the flurry of exchanged bets, all underscored by the pounding rhythm of hooves carrying across the field.
Roman had returned in time to stand next to Lyness and lean over the railing, calling out odds and opinions to the gentlemen nearby. “That gray of Kettleburn’s will never hold the lead—too light for the distance!” he declared, voice carrying above the noise.
Lyness murmured assent, though he had hardly seen the horse that belonged to their friend.
His eyes drifted unbidden toward the far end of the terrace, where Lady Emily stood among the other ladies, her gloved hand resting on the rail.
The wind tugged at the ribbon of her bonnet, and the crowd’s noise dimmed as he watched her.
For an instant she looked his way. Only an instant—quick, almost startled—but their eyes met across the press of bodies.
The moment ended as swiftly as it began. A friend touched her arm. Pointed. She turned to look. And he forced himself to turn back toward the track.
Still, the sound of the crowd seemed distant after that. His chest had gone tight, his pulse uneven. He clapped politely with the others as the winner galloped past.
Roman was already laughing, calling for refreshment to toast the result. Lyness smiled when expected, nodded at the right intervals—but his thoughts had settled irretrievably elsewhere.
He had no right to envy his brother. Nevertheless, the feeling sat in his chest like a stone he could not dislodge.
The mood around Emily, the energy and vibrance of the people and movement, made her head spin.
Standing with other ladies, she gripped the railing and cast her eyes out to the sky and fields beyond the track.
Though she felt as though someone stared at her from behind.
She started to turn, but told herself it would be better not to.
The last time she had looked, she had found Mr. Eastwood glancing at her only to look away the moment their gaze connected.
The Sweepstakes race busied the track, and a great many of the onlookers, but Emily still found it surprising so many people invested so much interest in a public race.
Perhaps enjoyment for such things had to be acquired over time?
It hardly mattered. She was not there for the horses, but for the people.
Miss Hannah Frederickson proved good company, and she already knew the two Nelson daughters Emily had met at dinner the week before. That made it easier for Emily to stand among them, letting the three of them speak while she bent her mind toward ignoring the press of bodies around them.
“Miss Nelson, have you told Lady Emily about your rather unique name?” Miss Frederickson asked with a sudden brightness in her eyes. “Lady Emily, I declare, I have never met a family with such distinct naming traditions for their children. I imagine your sister-in-law would know the story.”
Miss Nelson, the older of the two twins by mere minutes, lightly smacked Miss Frederickson on the arm with her fan. “You take far too much delight in the burden of my Christian name, Hannah Frederickson. I should not think you would, were your parents more imaginative with what they called you.”
Trying to pay attention to the conversation, especially given that she had been dragged into it by name, Emily met Miss Nelson’s gaze.
She could not join in the teasing, of course.
She wasn’t close enough to them and may well get it wrong, causing offense rather than amusement.
“I must confess that I have never met anyone else with your name, or your brothers’ names.
Is there a particular reason your parents chose them? ”
At this point, the other twin Nelson sister sighed heavily.
“Thaddeus, Phineas, Euphemia, and myself. Theodora.” She turned when Miss Frederickson giggled.
“Yes, yes, Miss Frederickson, astonishingly rare names. Though having possessed mine my whole life, I cannot say that I find it as odd as you do.”
Miss Nelson puffed out a breath that made her curls bounce. “Our mother named us after book characters.”