“Good God, Lottie.”
“I am speaking of horses.”
“You are never only speaking of horses.”
Before he could scold her further, a familiar voice floated up from the steps below. “Langley,” it drawled. “You’ve brought the wild creature out of her cage, I see.”
Mr Jasper Deverell paused at the rail of their box, a glass of brandy in hand, sunlight catching at the rim. His gaze found Lottie’s with the certainty of a compass seeking north.
Lottie rested her chin against her gloved knuckles. “Mr Deverell. The fox arrives.”
Theo sighed heavily.
“What a delight to find you amongst the racing men,” she said. “Have you come to admire the horses or place outrageous bets?”
“That remains to be seen,” said Jasper, eyes gleaming. “Although I am told the fillies are particularly fine this year.”
Theo made a strangled sound. After a brief pause, he rose, gave Deverell a resigned look, and jerked his head.
Jasper took the invitation at once, helping himself to Theo’s seat beside Lottie. Theo grunted and moved to the right.
Below them, the horses were being brought towards the starting post, sleek and restless.
“I believe I shall place a wager,” Lottie said brightly.
Theo turned as though struck. “Miss Tolliver, you will do no such thing. Sit down at once.”
She blinked. “Heavens. It was only a jest.”
“Not an amusing one. Should you take one step towards the betting ring, I shall bundle you into the carriage and return you to Tolliver House.”
Lottie sighed and sank back into her chair, snapping open her fan. “Really. Can a young lady not have any fun at all? One would suppose I declared my intention to elope with a jockey.”
“Given your history,” Theo muttered, “I should be astonished if the thought had not crossed your mind.”
Lottie smiled and ignored him, lifting the opera glasses to study the field.
Deverell watched her. “Which horse has taken your fancy, Miss Tolliver?”
She pointed towards a dark bay colt near the far rail, tossing its head. “That one. He looks as though he might bolt straight through the finish and halfway to Somerset.”
“Reckless sort,” Deverell said. “Won’t hold the first bend. I favour the grey mare, second from the inside.”
“Well, I am quite content to wager upon the unlikely. Besides, I have a fondness for creatures who do not behave as instructed.”
“I cannot imagine why.”
Theo cleared his throat. “Miss Tolliver. You have already been warned not to place bets.”
“I would never dream of it,” she said. “Certainly not beneath your ever-vigilant supervision.”
“Pity,” Deverell murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. “I had thought to test your instincts.”
Lottie did not look at him. “There are other ways to do so.”
“Charlotte,” Theo warned again, not looking up from his racecard.
“A perfectly innocent remark, Papa,” she said, knowing full well he was neither fooled by her sweetness, nor amused by the comparison to a watchful father.
