“Well,” she said breathlessly. “That was… most invigorating.”
Mr Deverell was staring at her. For once, the man reputed across England for his wicked tongue had not a single clever word to say.
“That horse ought not to have finished at all,” Theo said dryly.
Lottie blinked, almost startled to remember him. “Well, he did. And rather magnificently, I might add. You ought to have allowed me to put my pin money on it. We might all have retired comfortably to Brighton by Tuesday.”
Jasper exhaled slowly and sat, adjusting his gloves. “It appears I owe you a favour, Miss Tolliver.”
Theo’s head turned. “You owe her what, precisely?”
Lottie gave him a placid smile. “Nothing improper, I assure you. A small, personal forfeit.”
Theo’s brows rose so high they nearly disappeared beneath the brim of his hat. “Apersonalforfeit?”
Mr Deverell, to his credit, became very absorbed in the stitching of his cuff. “It was, ah… rather impulsive, Langley.”
“A friendly wager,” Lottie supplied. “Mr Deverell promised me a favour should my horse win. And as it happens…”
“It did,” Deverell said, his eyes now on her.
Theo looked between them. “I trust any such favours exchanged will remain entirely above reproach.”
“Of course,” Lottie said. “Do you truly suppose I would make a scandalous wager?”
“Yes,” Theo said flatly. “That is precisely what I suppose.”
She considered this. “You ought to give me a little more credit. I am perfectly capable of making a scandal without a wager.”
Deverell choked into his glove.
The fifth race had concluded when Lottie rose, brushing imaginary crumbs from her skirt and lifting her parasol. “Lord Langley, I must beg your pardon. I find myself in need of the ladies’ retiring tent.”
Theo looked up warily. “You cannot go alone.”
“Oh,” she said with wide eyes. “Then perhaps you intend to escort me yourself?”
He recoiled. “Good God, no.”
“Quite so,” she said gravely.
Theo dragged a hand down his face. “One of the footmen shall accompany you as far as the entrance. He will wait outside. I ought to have insisted upon bringing a maid from the house, but—“
“Oh, but how could you have thought of such a thing?” she interrupted, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Men never do. It is all so terribly unmentionable, is it not?”
“Lord grant me strength,” Theo muttered under his breath, gazing briefly heavenwards, “for I am daily beset by Tollivers.”
Lottie smiled demurely, and then turned her head just so, lifting her fan to shield her face from the sun—or so it would have appeared. In truth, the gesture was perfectly calculated to catch Jasper Deverell’s eye. She gave the barest tilt of her head and the barest lift of her brow; it was a summons, as clear as any spoken word.
“I do believe,” Lottie continued, affecting mild concern, “that I spy Georgiana’s maid near the pavilion. Your footman might fetch her as I arrive at the tent. I should feel far more at ease assisted by someone I know.”
Theo narrowed his eyes. “Five minutes.”
“More than sufficient.”
A footman appeared and bowed. “May I escort you to the retiring tent, miss?”
“You may.”
