speak with Eugenia; the assistant led her away between the rows of bookshelves. Pris heard the young girl hushed when she tried to tell her mother about Pris, heard her scuffling footsteps as she reluctantly followed the ladies.
She had a few minutes at most to decide what to do. To decide how best to use the opportunity fate had sent their way. Mrs. Cynster might be Caxtonâs neighbor, yet Pris couldnât see the man who had interrogated her in his office sharing his problemsâshe was fairly certain he thought of her as a problemâwith his neighbors, particularly not the ladies.
There was no reason Mrs. Cynster would know anything about her, let alone the motives behind her and Eugeniaâs quest to see the register. But if Mrs. Cynster knew anything about that blasted register, or even something useful about Caxtonâ¦
Turning from the map, Pris walked down the corridor between two bookshelves, using Eugeniaâs voice to guide her.
âI have to confess,â Mrs. Cynster was saying, âthat although Iâve lived in Newmarket almost all my life, and have an interest in breeding and training horses, I really have no clue as to what, precisely, is in the Breeding Register. I know all race horses are registered, but as to why, and with what details, Iâve never thought to ask.â
Eugenia saw Pris and smiled. âThere you are, my dear.â She glanced at the golden-haired beauty. âMrs. Cynsterâmy niece, Miss Dalling. Sheâs been so helpful trying to find answers to my questions.â
Mrs. Cynster turned. Pris met pure blue eyes, open and innocent, yet there was a quick and observant mind behind them.
Smiling, she bobbed a curtsy, then took the hand Mrs. Cynster extended. âIâm very pleased to meet you, maâam.â
Mrs. Cynsterâs smile widened; she was a small woman, several inches shorter than Pris. âNot nearly as pleased as I am to meet you, Miss Dalling. I hate being behindhand with the latest, especially in Newmarket, and youâre obviously the lady Iâve recently heard described as âstunningly, startlingly, strikingly beautiful.â I had thought the description a trifle overblown, but I see I was being too cynical.â
Her dancing eyes assured Pris the compliment was genuine.
âI wonderâ¦â Turning her blue eyes on Eugenia, and Adelaide standing quietly beside her, then glancing again at Pris, Mrs. Cynster raised her brows. âI would love to introduce you to local societyâI understand youâve recently come to stay at the Carisbrook house, but it will never do to hide yourselves away. Besides, although itâs never the first topic of conversation with the local ladies, many of us know a great deal about horse racing.â She looked at Eugenia. âYou will certainly be able to learn more.â
A smiling glance included Pris and Adelaide. âIâm hosting a tea this afternoon. Iâd be delighted if you could attend. Iâm sure some of us would be able to learn more details for you from our husbands if we knew what most interested you. Do say youâll come.â
Eugenia looked at Pris. She had only a heartbeat in which to decide; smiling, she nodded fractionally.
Eugenia returned her attention to Mrs. Cynster. âWe would be honored to accept, my dear. I must say, all research and no play is rather wearying.â
âExcellent!â Beaming, Mrs. Cynster gave them directions, confirming she was indeed the chatelaine of the Cynster racing stud.
Which meant her husband would most likely know what details had to be supplied to enter a horse in the Breeding Register.
Prisâs smile was quite genuine; anticipation rose, hope welled.
Mrs. Cynster took her leave of them, then summoned her daughter. âCome, Prue.â
Pris glanced at the young girl, an easy smile on her lips.
And met a pair of blue eyesânot the same as her motherâs but harder and
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