Chapter Ten
Louise’s heart raced as Nathaniel trailed soft kisses along her neck. His touch awakened a storm of new emotions. Oh, please, don’t let him stop. A gentle warmth spread through her body, arousing a new sense of longing and desire. Unable to move, she was caught up in the overwhelming sensation of his lips against her skin. He paused, and she panicked for a heartbeat before he trailed more kisses down her neck.
In the haze of the moment, her blood rose to a new height. Louise’s breath quickened. His soft breath tickled her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She was consumed by a building stream of sensations she couldn’t fully comprehend, yet she longed for more. Every touch, every whisper, brought her closer to him.
Louise resisted the urge to open her eyes. His tender kisses marked her as his and left her gasping for breath. Her eyes fluttered open. Confusion momentarily clouded her mind. She wasn’t staring into his blue eyes but rather the lace canopy over her bed. She shut her eyes, desperate to hold on to the fantasy, to him.
She lay under the comforter, his touch and kisses fading with the dream until her body cooled, until the dream was gone.
Her mind clear, the murmur of voices in the hallway reached her ears. The house was awake. It was time for her to get up, too. She pushed aside the bed hangings. Sunshine made its way through the closed window curtains, creating a small pool of light on the carpeted floor.
Slipping out of bed, Louise grabbed her wrap, bundled up, and pushed the window curtain aside. She wasn’t disappointed. The day was bright and promising. She turned away and began her morning ablutions. It was the perfect day for a horse race later in the day.
As the afternoon progressed, Louise’s fingers moved with precision and skill, weaving delicate strands of lace and meticulously placing each glittering bead. Time slipped away as she focused on her task, lost in a world of intricate patterns and the faint scent of silk, linen, and thread.
As the shadows lengthened, Louise knew it was time to prepare for the Regent’s Derby. She set aside her unfinished lacework. Filled with anticipation, she hurried to her room and changed. Today, Bessie gave her a lovely linen dress. The accompanying hat included a thick netting that would obscure her face. She wondered what Nathaniel would do to hide his identity. She didn’t have long to wait. He would be here shortly to escort her and Bessie to the Rotten Row racetrack.
Louise left her room and headed toward the staircase, her steps light and purposeful. The voices and laughter from the gambling floor echoed in the halls. The air in the Lyon’s Den, as always, was vibrant with excitement, almost as excited as she was.
After quick glances at her reflection in the gilded mirror, Louise adjusted her hat and smoothed the folds in her gown. Descending the staircase, she joined Bessie in the busy foyer.
“There you are.” Bessie was putting on her gloves. “You look lovely. The height of fashion. You will be the envy of every woman.”
“Thank you. This plum is a lovely color,” Louise said.
The sound of hooves clattering against the cobblestones drew Louise’s attention.
“Your carriage has arrived,” Mr. Boyet announced.
Louise stepped off the last step and joined Mr. Boyet, who escorted them both outside. Nathaniel waited beside the open carriage, the door ajar and ready for them.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” He touched the brim of his hat. “You both look lovely.”
Louise took a deeper look at him. “You’re not wearing a mask.”
“I’ve let nature take its course to disguise me. My own mother would not recognize me. She has never seen me with hair on my face.” He twisted his mustache. “I’m beginning to like it.”
Louise tried to imagine him without a beard and mustache and wondered if Nathaniel would look like the man who had collided into her and sent her swatches and sketches flying.
He handed Bessie into the carriage and then turned to her. Her breath caught when she gazed into his eyes.
“I’ve waited all day to see you.” He took her hand and kissed it, then handed her into the carriage.
Louise settled into the closed landau next to Bessie and across from Nathaniel for the gentle mile-and-a-half ride from Cleveland Row to Rotten Row. Since waking up that morning, she could not stop thinking of him. Now, the anticipation, anxiety, and apprehension were gone. He sat across from her.
As a distraction, she watched the tree branches gracefully sway in the warm breeze, appreciating the clear and temperate day. She would have preferred to wear one of her cotton afternoon dresses rather than the plum gown and required veiled hat. Bessie insisted they be similarly dressed. Louise was the first to admit that the veil she wore was more comfortable than a mask.
She couldn’t help but glance in Nathaniel’s direction, enjoying the liberty to observe him without him being aware. After returning to the Lyon’s Den last night, she begged exhaustion to avoid any discussion of the event with Bessie. Instead, she lay in bed, her eyes closed, going over the tenderness and intimacy of being wrapped in his arms. The power of his kiss, a lover’s kiss, made her lightheaded. There was no way she could have anticipated the sensations, and when he deepened the kiss…
Her heart raced as the memory unfolded, but her eyes widened as reality returned. She was breathing heavily. A quick glance in Nathaniel’s direction and she saw his intense smoldering gaze. The same one she kissed the previous evening.
A rush of warmth surged to her cheeks, and she looked away, finding solace in anything other than meeting his piercing blue eyes. Her intuition was correct; he possessed an ability to read her thoughts, just as his fleeting glimpse had revealed his own to her.
“Before we arrive at the racecourse, I want to go over the challenge. Hyde Park and the Rotten Row are highly public with a diverse crowd. Masks would only attract unwanted attention. That is why Louise is wearing a veil to obscure her face.” Bessie paused, casting a glance toward Nathaniel. “Nathaniel, you’ve done well with your attire and beard. You’re adequately disguised.”
Nathaniel nodded, taking in the instructions.
“After the race, both of you will engage in conversations with people in the pavilion, aimed at understanding their perspectives and continuing to make connections,” Bessie continued. “This challenge will test your ability to connect with individuals from varied social circles very much like what you did at the art gallery, but now on a larger scale and in a less controlled environment.”
After Bessie outlined the challenge, she smiled warmly. “You’ll enjoy the race, it is one of my favorites,” Bessie said. “The Regent’s Derby is an annual horse race at Rotten Row. The course is a formidable mile-and-a-half oval track that begins midway down Rotten Row and goes toward the Light Horse Stables. There the course takes a turn down King’s New Road, the road parallel to Rotten Row. The horses race past the barracks to where the road intersects with Rotten Row. The competitors negotiate a wide turn back onto Rotten Row, skillfully avoiding the impassable hedge, and then it’s back to the finish line.”
The landau came to a stop, and Boyet, seated with the coachman, appeared at the door. He gave each of them the program with the day’s race information. She handed Boyet two pouches of coins.
“Take these. One is to wager on the Prince Regent’s presence here by the start of the race,” she instructed.
Louise’s intake of breath startled the woman.
“Why are you surprised? You shouldn’t believe all the rumors about him. He can be charming and even appear concerned at times.” She turned back to Boyet. “Take this other pouch and place a wager on the horse with the purple blanket, to win.”
Boyet nodded and proceeded to carry out her wishes.
“Your wager is based on the color of the horse’s blanket without caring which horse has that color?” Louise asked, the program in her lap.
Nathaniel, absorbed in the program, replied, “The horse is from the St. John stable.” He continued reading before looking up with an enticing smile. “As for the Regent, even though the race is in his honor, he usually does not attend the event.” He returned to reading the paper.
“You do hope Amber Blaze wins, don’t you,” Bessie cooed.
Nathaniel gazed out at the track. “It will be difficult for her owner to claim the prize.”
Bessie leaned back with a knowing grin. “Exactly.” Her eyes danced with a glint of mischief.
Louise shifted her gaze between Nathaniel and Bessie. Surely, Nathaniel’s friend Richard would be elated to win and accept the coveted prize. She followed Nathaniel’s glance as she tried to piece together the meaning behind their banter.
Unable to reach any conclusion, she gave up and looked where the coach had stopped. They were perched atop a knoll, shaded from the sun by branches of a leafy London oak, and removed from any curious onlookers who might intrude on their privacy. From their vantage point, they had an unobstructed view of the heart-pounding home stretch and the finish line.
She glanced past the racetrack at the temporary pavilion the Prince Regent had erected in the grassy area between Rotten Row and the western end of the Serpentine Lake. It was already filled with a dazzling display of fashion and luxury. Spectators arrived in carriages, wearing their finest attire—feathers, silks, and lace. Champagne flowed freely as everyone waited for the featured race to begin.
A flagman took to the starting line and raised a banner, signaling the imminent start of the race. People positioned themselves to get the best view while the jockeys paraded their horses toward the starting line.
Louise, engrossed in the program, realized the colors the jockey and horses wore were on the program. The first jockey she spotted wore a dark blue armband with a red border. Louise looked down at the program and then back at the horse and rider. This was Midnight Rose, a majestic black mare from Lord Thornton’s stable known for her speed and stamina. His Grace, the jockey for this race, rode with unwavering confidence as he entered the course.
The crowd’s favorite, Silver Arrow, was next. Sir Worthington, sporting a green armband, was well-known for guiding his prized mare with a graceful gallop and had a consistent track record. Silver Arrow had never lost a race.
A flurry of activity from the gallery caught Louise’s attention as the next horse took to the course. Lady Fitzroy entered the race atop her chestnut mare, Golden Dreamer, riding astride instead of sidesaddle. Louise couldn’t help but beam with smug satisfaction. She had been closely involved in designing and creating Lady Fitzroy’s red riding habit. As spirited as the mare might be, Louise was certain Lady Fitzroy, with her red armband, would handle the mare regardless of her riding position.
The crowd quieted as the next contestant came onto the track. Louise found it odd that the audience shifted their attention away from the horse and onto the rider. There was an undertone of brooding anger surrounding him. Louise scanned the program in a matter of moments and identified the rider as Mr. Hawthorne with a black armband, who was atop Gentleman Jack.
Nathaniel’s mumbled exclamation, “Bloody hell,” took her by surprise. She turned her attention back to him.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Nathaniel mumbled, his words laced with urgency as he opened the door.
“Before you leave—” The command in Bessie’s voice stopped Nathaniel mid-step. He didn’t face her.
“You must know I cannot waive the contract or its stipulations. You lose the challenge if you are identified.”
He nodded his acknowledgment and left the coach without further explanation.
Louise, perplexed by his sudden departure, turned to Bessie for an explanation.
“Nathaniel and Hawthorne have been estranged for about five years. Simply stated, during a race in which both Nathaniel and Hawthorne were riding, Hawthorne’s reckless actions resulted in the tragic loss of his own horse. Everyone was distressed, but Hawthorne refused to accept responsibility for his actions.”
“He placed the blame on Nathaniel.” The injustice. How many times had she been accused of improperly fitting a gown, though the true cause often lay in the woman’s own weight gain? Regardless, they would have their household staff attempt the adjustments, ruining the garment in the process.
“You’re correct. But the race judges and spectators at the event held Nathaniel blameless. That didn’t deter Hawthorne. He set out on a relentless campaign to tarnish Nathaniel’s reputation, spreading rumors and gossip wherever he could. It took its toll on him both socially and personally.
“Hawthorne bought a new horse five years ago and has spent the time training Gentleman Jack to mirror his own meanness. That tactic has led to no one on the racing circuit wanting to compete alongside him.”
All activity ceased near the racetrack as The Prince Regent and his retinue arrived.
“Oh, my. It appears that you won your wager, Bessie. The Prince Regent has indeed arrived before the race started.”
“Yes, he did.” Bessie sat with a satisfied grin.
The last horse, Amber Blaze, emerged amidst a buzz of whispers. Louise was taken aback as Richard, the last jockey onto the racetrack, emerged riding Amber Blaze.
With rapt attention, she leaned forward, her gaze fixed on the racetrack. Her pulse quickened with excitement as the striking honey-colored mare, draped with the purple blanket, neared the starting line, captivating everyone’s attention. Amber Blaze’s golden coat caught the sunlight and its silken mane danced gracefully in the breeze. Yet, as the horse drew closer to the starting point, a discernible sense of unease came over the animal. Her once graceful prancing was now tinged with agitation.
Louise was sure the horse wasn’t shying away from the race. She could feel Amber Blaze’s eagerness to run. Finally, as the horse settled into place, the flag dropped, and the race began.
The race started smoothly. The thunderous beat of hooves echoed across the racecourse as each horse vied for its position, their powerful strides churning up the earth beneath them.
“The horses are well matched for speed,” Louise said to Bessie.
“So they are. But this course has its challenges. At the top of the backstretch, where the course makes a wide turn back onto Rotten Row, the riders face a seemingly impassable obstacle—a tall, thick hedge. No one has successfully cleared it in at least five years without a fall or injury.”
Louise’s head snapped toward Bessie. “Hawthorne’s reckless action.”
Her benefactor nodded solemnly, confirming Louise’s suspicion.
Louise returned her attention to the race. The spectators watched as the horses charged along the track. The relentless pounding of hooves punctuated the air as the horses turned down King’s New Road and passed the barracks. They headed toward the hedge. Midnight Rose, Silver Arrow, and Golden Dreamer veered to the right to take the detour around the hedge.
Gentleman Jack remained on Amber Blaze’s right, effectively cutting off her access to the detour. Louise held her breath, uncertain of what would happen. Did Gentleman Jack’s jockey have any intention of relenting at the last minute? It would leave little room or time for Amber Blaze to take the safer path, forcing her to go over the hedge. Her heart raced as she foresaw the cruel repetition of the race five years ago and silently prayed for a different outcome.
Amber Blaze and her determined rider seized control. As they emerged from the turn, Louise knew at once that Richard never intended to use the detour. Amber Blaze stretched out her neck. Her rider leaned close to her, and they bolted toward the hedge. They were swallowed by the thick, green barrier, disappearing from sight. Everyone held their breath, not knowing what was happening until, with a thunderous noise, two horses soared over the hedge. The sound of their hooves crescendoed to a fever pitch as they came down the home stretch.
The other horses burst from the detour, the hazard behind them. The jockeys urged their mounts to run full out, even though it was evident that there was no way they could catch the two front runners, Gentleman Jack and Amber Blaze.
The spectators in the pavilion and lining the Rotten Row grew increasingly excited as the race neared the finish line. The roar of the crowd increased until it became deafening. As if feeding off the spectator’s energy, Gentleman Jack and Amber Blaze sped up until they were neck and neck.
Hawthorne raised his whip, lashing out, intentionally striking St. John. Gasps rippled through the spectators at the unsportsmanlike behavior.
“Did you see that?” Louise turned toward Bessie, pointing to the horses. Bessie didn’t hide her distaste.
Louise returned her attention to the race. She let out a breath. “It appears that St. John is unhurt, and Amber Blaze hasn’t broken stride.”
“St. John is a fierce competitor. The win is all Hawthorne wants, and he doesn’t care how he achieves it.” Bessie didn’t take her eyes off the race.
Hawthorne must not have been satisfied. He went to strike again, but this time, his whip found nothing but empty air. In a well-timed move, Amber Blaze surged ahead, leaving Hawthorne in her dust, his arm still raised.
The crowd erupted, their shouts cheering Amber Blaze and St. John on. As if in response to the encouragement, Amber Blaze burst forward, lengthening the distance between her and Gentleman Jack even more. She pounded across the finish line three lengths ahead of Gentleman Jack. The other horses finished close behind.
Unable to contain herself, Louise grabbed Bessie’s hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a horse race like this one.”
“It was quite exciting.” The woman’s voice was casual and warm, as was the smile on her lips. “Come with me. We’ll go to the pavilion, get some lemonade, and watch the Prince Regent present the award.”
“I’d like that.” Louise walked next to Bessie as they made their way to see the blue ribbon awarded to Amber Blaze.
“I must tell you the same thing I told Nathaniel. If anyone recognizes you, the challenge will fail, and the wager will be lost.”
Louise said nothing. Confident that no one she knew would attend the race, she nodded and kept moving toward the pavilion. She was eager to join the crowd of spectators.
Following Bessie, they navigated the gathering, the scent of flowers and lemonade wafting around them as attendees eagerly anticipated the presentation.
The Prince Regent was next to the horse and rider. He spoke, but from their vantage point, they couldn’t hear what he said.
Boyet bent to Bessie’s ear. She listened carefully. When he was done, she nodded and turned to Louise.
“You’ll have to excuse me. Boyet is here if you need anything. Enjoy the spectacle. I’ll meet you back at the coach.” Bessie was gone before Louise could say anything. She had no idea where the woman was off to. She caught Boyet’s glance. He nodded and said nothing.