What Price Love? by Stephanie Laurens Page A

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 Caxton’s neighbor, yet Pris couldn’t see the man who had interrogated her in his office sharing his problems—she was fairly certain he thought of her as a problem—with his neighbors, particularly not the ladies.
    There was no reason Mrs. Cynster would know anything about her, let alone the motives behind her and Eugenia’s quest to see the register. But if Mrs. Cynster knew anything about that blasted register, or even something useful about Caxton…
    Turning from the map, Pris walked down the corridor between two bookshelves, using Eugenia’s voice to guide her.
    â€œI have to confess,” Mrs. Cynster was saying, “that although I’ve 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, I’ve never thought to ask.”
    Eugenia saw Pris and smiled. “There you are, my dear.” She glanced at the golden-haired beauty. “Mrs. Cynster—my niece, Miss Dalling. She’s been so helpful trying to find answers to my questions.”
    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. “I’m very pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
    Mrs. Cynster’s smile widened; she was a small woman, several inches shorter than Pris. “Not nearly as pleased as I am to meet you, Miss Dalling. I hate being behindhand with the latest, especially in Newmarket, and you’re obviously the lady I’ve recently heard described as ‘stunningly, startlingly, strikingly beautiful.’ I had thought the description a trifle overblown, but I see I was being too cynical.”
    Her dancing eyes assured Pris the compliment was genuine.
    â€œI wonder…” Turning her blue eyes on Eugenia, and Adelaide standing quietly beside her, then glancing again at Pris, Mrs. Cynster raised her brows. “I would love to introduce you to local society—I understand you’ve recently come to stay at the Carisbrook house, but it will never do to hide yourselves away. Besides, although it’s never the first topic of conversation with the local ladies, many of us know a great deal about horse racing.” She looked at Eugenia. “You will certainly be able to learn more.”
    A smiling glance included Pris and Adelaide. “I’m hosting a tea this afternoon. I’d be delighted if you could attend. I’m 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 you’ll come.”
    Eugenia looked at Pris. She had only a heartbeat in which to decide; smiling, she nodded fractionally.
    Eugenia returned her attention to Mrs. Cynster. “We would be honored to accept, my dear. I must say, all research and no play is rather wearying.”
    â€œExcellent!” 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.
    Pris’s smile was quite genuine; anticipation rose, hope welled.
    Mrs. Cynster took her leave of them, then summoned her daughter. “Come, Prue.”
    Pris glanced at the young girl, an easy smile on her lips.
    And met a pair of blue eyes—not the same as her mother’s but harder and