hand. “I realize that. But it’s time for you to give me my head, and see what I can do.”
“I don’t like this,” he grumbled. “Not one bit.”
“You think I can’t win?”
He shot her a long look. “If anyone can beat Sharpe, it’s you.”
“But . . .”
“But you don’t have his reckless spirit. That might keep you from winning. You’re sane. He’s not.”
She stifled a hot retort. How was it that Poppy never saw the real her? She wasn’t always sane, and sometimes she was reckless. Or at least she yearned to be, though she got few chances of it.
But she had one now, and she was going to make good use of it. “He’s not unbeatable, and I mean to prove it.”
Poppy glanced out. “There’s a crowd. Do you think you can handle that?”
She followed his gaze out the window. Good gracious, he was right. People lined either side of the course, leaning in to watch her descend from the carriage. “I understand why Lord Gabriel’s family is here, but who are the others?”
“Are you joking?” Pierce said. “All it took was Chetwin spreading the word to have half of society trotting out here. There’s nothing the ton loves more than a juicy, scandalous race.”
For a moment, her heart failed her. She’d wanted Gabriel humiliated before his friends, but she’d also wanted a straightforward race. With so many people crowding in and no rails to restrain them, the race would not be straightforward.
Suddenly she felt Poppy’s hand squeeze her shoulder. “Go give him hell, lambkin.”
That bolstered her courage. “I will. Don’t you worry.”
Pierce leapt out to hand her down, then bent to kiss her forehead. “Time to beat the trousers off Sharpe, cuz. I’ve got twenty pounds riding on you.”
She laughed shakily but noticed that Gabriel was glaring at Pierce. Had he overheard their conversation? Surely he didn’t expect her cousin to bet on him .
As her grandfather and Pierce drove off toward the finish line where they would wait for her, she strolled up to her curricle, positioned to the right of Gabriel’s phaeton.
When she climbed up and took the reins from the groom, Gabriel looked over and tipped his hat. “It’s not too late to forfeit,” he said with a smug smile that set her teeth on edge.
“Oh, did you want to forfeit?” she said sweetly. “I’m more than happy to accept.”
That wiped the grin from his face. He picked up his reins, his eyes glinting at her in challenge. “May the best driver win.”
“She will,” she countered.
“Bravo!” cried a female voice, and Virginia turned to see a woman standing nearby with his family. It was the recently married Lady Minerva, who’d been at the race with Gabriel the day Virginia had challenged him. What was her name now? Oh yes, Mrs. Giles Masters.
“Good luck to you, Miss Waverly,” Mrs. Masters called out. “If you beat my brother, I’ll give you a whole set of my novels.”
“Thank you for offering her an incentive to lose, Minerva,” Gabriel said good-naturedly, apparently not the least concerned that his sister was encouraging his competition.
“Careful, little brother,” his sister countered, “or I’ll put you in one of my books. Just ask Oliver how he likes that.”
“Ah, but then you’ll finally have a hero worth his salt,” Gabriel said gamely.
“What makes you think you’d be a hero?” Mrs. Masters said with a smug grin.
Virginia watched them, envious of their ribbing. She’d forgotten how comfortable it was to have a brother. Pierce was a good friend, of course, but it wasn’t the same. There was something special about having a sibling around who shared a bond of blood with you and understood you when no one else could.
Gabriel had taken that away from her, she reminded herself, and she would make him pay.
The Duke of Lyons came to stand before their rigs. Gabriel explained that Lyons was not only a member of the Jockey Club, but also of the old Four-in-Hand Club. So he was
“I don’t like this,” he grumbled. “Not one bit.”
“You think I can’t win?”
He shot her a long look. “If anyone can beat Sharpe, it’s you.”
“But . . .”
“But you don’t have his reckless spirit. That might keep you from winning. You’re sane. He’s not.”
She stifled a hot retort. How was it that Poppy never saw the real her? She wasn’t always sane, and sometimes she was reckless. Or at least she yearned to be, though she got few chances of it.
But she had one now, and she was going to make good use of it. “He’s not unbeatable, and I mean to prove it.”
Poppy glanced out. “There’s a crowd. Do you think you can handle that?”
She followed his gaze out the window. Good gracious, he was right. People lined either side of the course, leaning in to watch her descend from the carriage. “I understand why Lord Gabriel’s family is here, but who are the others?”
“Are you joking?” Pierce said. “All it took was Chetwin spreading the word to have half of society trotting out here. There’s nothing the ton loves more than a juicy, scandalous race.”
For a moment, her heart failed her. She’d wanted Gabriel humiliated before his friends, but she’d also wanted a straightforward race. With so many people crowding in and no rails to restrain them, the race would not be straightforward.
Suddenly she felt Poppy’s hand squeeze her shoulder. “Go give him hell, lambkin.”
That bolstered her courage. “I will. Don’t you worry.”
Pierce leapt out to hand her down, then bent to kiss her forehead. “Time to beat the trousers off Sharpe, cuz. I’ve got twenty pounds riding on you.”
She laughed shakily but noticed that Gabriel was glaring at Pierce. Had he overheard their conversation? Surely he didn’t expect her cousin to bet on him .
As her grandfather and Pierce drove off toward the finish line where they would wait for her, she strolled up to her curricle, positioned to the right of Gabriel’s phaeton.
When she climbed up and took the reins from the groom, Gabriel looked over and tipped his hat. “It’s not too late to forfeit,” he said with a smug smile that set her teeth on edge.
“Oh, did you want to forfeit?” she said sweetly. “I’m more than happy to accept.”
That wiped the grin from his face. He picked up his reins, his eyes glinting at her in challenge. “May the best driver win.”
“She will,” she countered.
“Bravo!” cried a female voice, and Virginia turned to see a woman standing nearby with his family. It was the recently married Lady Minerva, who’d been at the race with Gabriel the day Virginia had challenged him. What was her name now? Oh yes, Mrs. Giles Masters.
“Good luck to you, Miss Waverly,” Mrs. Masters called out. “If you beat my brother, I’ll give you a whole set of my novels.”
“Thank you for offering her an incentive to lose, Minerva,” Gabriel said good-naturedly, apparently not the least concerned that his sister was encouraging his competition.
“Careful, little brother,” his sister countered, “or I’ll put you in one of my books. Just ask Oliver how he likes that.”
“Ah, but then you’ll finally have a hero worth his salt,” Gabriel said gamely.
“What makes you think you’d be a hero?” Mrs. Masters said with a smug grin.
Virginia watched them, envious of their ribbing. She’d forgotten how comfortable it was to have a brother. Pierce was a good friend, of course, but it wasn’t the same. There was something special about having a sibling around who shared a bond of blood with you and understood you when no one else could.
Gabriel had taken that away from her, she reminded herself, and she would make him pay.
The Duke of Lyons came to stand before their rigs. Gabriel explained that Lyons was not only a member of the Jockey Club, but also of the old Four-in-Hand Club. So he was
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