Despite his better nature, he was about to suggest they ride back to his house when a fast-moving dark splotch across the park drew his attention. He took Olivia’s hand and squeezed it. “Tonight. For now, we must resume our roles.”
She straightened. “Mr. Dawson?”
He did not have a chance to answer, as in the next moment, the man in question trotted toward them on a dark bay stallion. Without the crescent moon mask, Thel got a different impression of the man. Dawson was older than he had realized,nearly Olivia’s age, and the cut of his suit was inferior, especially compared to Mr. Ringwell’s. However, he handled his mount with the same level of skill and confidence as his rival.
“Lady Allen,” Dawson said, with a slight incline of his head. “I am impressed with your resolve. There are few women who would dare venture out with such grave accusations levied against them.”
“The rumors will pass,” Olivia said. There was a slight tremor in her voice, and she stared directly ahead with an expression so still, it reminded Thel of a porcelain doll.
“Such confidence.”
She curled her shoulders inward. “My affairs are none of your concern.”
Thel flexed his hands, stiff from clutching the reins. He did not dare speak up for fear of disrupting Olivia’s act. Part of their plan involved keeping Dawson feeling as if he were in control. If Thel made his displeasure known, Dawson might realize they were aware of his scheme. Thus, he held his silence.
Dawson lifted his chin and moved his horse ahead.
Olivia joined him as he increased speed. He was willing to grant Mr. Ringwell the privilege of speaking with Constance in private, but not Dawson.
“There must be another young lady in this park who would enjoy your company, Mr. Ringwell,” Dawson said. “There are matters I wish to discuss with my betrothed in private.”
The hair on the back of Thel’s neck rose, but he held his tongue. If Mr. Ringwell was going to have any success in bringing Constance to her senses, he needed to do it without her father interfering.
As it turned out, Mr. Ringwell did not need to respond.
“We will have plenty of time to discuss the wedding before I turn one-and-twenty,” Constance said. “Mr. Ringwell,when was the last time you visited the village? I find I am missing home.”
“I was there a fortnight ago and will be returning soon to inspect our horses before the derby.” He patted his stallion’s neck. “Murphy was a prize winner, back in my father’s day.”
“Rather fond of the derby myself,” Dawson said loudly.
A change came over Mr. Ringwell then, one Thel recognized from the many times the boy’s father had forbidden him from driving the carriage, or swimming across the gushing river, or climbing behind the wool pile. As such, Mr. Ringwell’s next words were no surprise.
“Fancy a wager, Mr. Dawson?”
An hour later, Thel found himself amid a crowd of curious ladies and gentlemen. A section of the path had been cleared and lines drawn in chalk about a hundred yards apart. To carry out this task, Mr. Ringwell and Dawson had engaged a dozen riders to wait along the edges of the track at equal distances to keep anyone from accidentally straying too close. Several of said gentlemen had already made discreet wagers, and from what he could gather, Mr. Ringwell was the favorite.
A shot rang out, and the riders were off like a blur, spraying gravel in their wake. The crowd erupted into cheers.
“Go, Mr. Ringwell!” Constance yelled.
The horses remained within inches of each other as they approached the end of the path. The next section was the most difficult, as it required them to slow down enough to make a complete turn before returning the way they had come. Mr. Ringwell completed the task gracefully, hardly even cutting into the grass. Dawson followed close behind but was steadily losing ground.
A cloud of dust kicked up by galloping hooves made it difficult to see. It also started a chorus of coughing and sneezing.Thel held a handkerchief to his nose with one hand and grabbed his saddle horn with the other.
Constance’s horse shifted and rolled her eyes. If they were not flanked by other riders, he suspected the animal would have bolted.
“They’ve rounded the turn,” Olivia said.
He barely heard her over the increasing volume of cheers.
In the few seconds it took for both riders to pass them, Mr. Ringwell earned a slight lead.
“Come on, Mr. Ringwell!” he yelled, even as the dust became so thick, he could barely see. He peered closer and caught a flash of silver from Dawson. There was a faint whinny, and then Mr. Ringwell fell back, just in time for Dawson to thunder across the finish line. He was immediately mobbed by a deafening wave of well-wishers.
As the dust settled, he turned, only to find his daughter’s saddle empty.
He searched the surrounding area but did not see her. “Constance!”
