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Even Mr Smyth was throwing himself into the mood. ‘Ajax, come on Ajax!’ he shouted, waving his hat.
Chiltern Lad, Julia repeated over and over in her head, Come on, Hal, come on, Chiltern Lad!
As the first horses came out from behind the spinny turn, Black Knight was in the lead, a small grey second and Chiltern Lad was neck and neck in third with Mr Smyth’s favourite.
Surely there was not enough time now? They swung round the shallow curve towards the finishing straight, and she saw Hal clearly, the ribbon streaming behind him as he leant forward. The bay responded, stretched out its neck and they left Ajax trailing, then they were past the grey. ‘Come on, Chiltern Lad!’ Julia screamed, for get ting where she was. ‘Come on!’
Black Knight responded, pulled away for a second, and then it was as if the bay had only been cantering. With Hal flat on its neck it lengthened its stride and took the black, crossing the finishing line with a length to spare.
Hal sat back and punched the air with his right fist, the Pomona green ribbons fluttering incongruously against the masculine cut of his uniform. Julia subsided onto the carriage seat, breath less and triumphant.
And then she looked up and saw Thomas Smyth’s face as he stared from the winning rider to the trailing ribbons on her frivolous bonnet. ‘The winner,’ he remarked, his mouth hard, ‘appears to have a lady sup porter.’
‘What was that, Mr Smyth?’ Mrs Tresilian said, fanning herself. ‘I did not quite catch your words.’
‘Nothing important, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Merely my commiserations. We have several losers in this carriage today.’
Julia felt sick. He had seen the favour on Hal’s arm and he had drawn the correct conclusion and now…now she had one suitor left, and that the most lukewarm of the three. She closed her eyes, wondering if she was going to faint. It was her duty to marry respectably. Mama had spent a great deal of money on her and invested much hope and worry, and she had not even been able to control her wicked, wayward heart sufficiently to live up to her obligations to her family.
She had thrown away security and respectability and up bringing, not just by falling in love with a rake—a man who had no sense of responsibility except to a regiment of troops, who had no intention of marrying and who lived a dissolute life style—but by publicly displaying her feelings for him.
The carriage shifted as people moved about in it. Julia opened her eyes, braced for accusations, but her mother was climbing down and taking the baron’s arm and Mr Smyth was getting in.
‘I gave Major Carlow a ribbon as a token for good luck,’ she said bluntly, as he sat down opposite her and the others moved away out of earshot. ‘I met him by chance just now. I owe him a great deal for rescuing me from a man who accosted me in the Parc, but it was indiscreet—fast, indeed—of me to have done what I just have.’
‘Indeed.’ Smyth frowned. ‘You cannot be unaware of my feelings towards you, Miss Tresilian?’
‘You have been most kind, sir.’
‘I meant more than kindness, Julia.’
Past tense. She forced a smile. ‘Yes.’
‘Have you an understanding with this man?’ He was staring at the floor, his clasped hands between his knees.
Julia stared at his bent head. At least he was not shouting at her. ‘No. I have a sense of obligation and of liking. You see, I wish to be honest with you. He can be very charming. I am also aware that he is not a man that it is right for an un married lady to associate with. My conduct has been…unwise.’
‘Unwise?’ He did raise his head at that, his brows drawn hard together. ‘The swine has not—’
‘No! No,’ Julia repeated more softly. ‘The major has not seduced me if that is what concerns you.’ Only stolen my heart.
‘Oh.’ Mr Smyth sat back. ‘I see. You greatly relieve my mind. It is your natural amiability and innocence that has led you astray, allowed an unwise friend ship, I can see that now.’
Julia felt faint with relief and then queasy with realization of where this confession had taken her. If Thomas Smyth proposed and she accepted him, but confessed she loved another, then he would be certain it was Hal. And would he believe her protestations of innocence then?
‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
‘Julia, this is not the time or the place, but I would speak with you, most earnestly, about the future.’ He leaned forward and took her hands in his. ‘May I do that?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course,’ she managed. ‘But…next week? When this is behind us?’ Somehow, she would work through this moral co nun drum. Duty and loveless security on one hand. Hopeless, one-sided love on the other. It ought to be an easy choice: she just had to summon up the strength to be able to put Hal out of her heart and mind and to tell Thomas Smyth that with a clear conscience.
‘Of course.’ Smyth patted her hands. ‘And I will speak to your mother first, of course. Shall we say I may call on the twentieth? In the morning?’
‘Yes.’ Julia smiled, summoning up all her courage. ‘Yes. That would be delightful.’
Mr Smyth glanced around, but there was no-one in their vicinity and the nearest spectators were looking down the course to where the next race was being marshalled at the starting line.
‘Miss Tresilian—Julia.’
