eyes, and said my prayers!”
“You might have been killed!” breathed Phoebe.
“So I might, with any other man holding the reins, but Max knows what his greys will do to a nicety.”
“I collect that Sir James’s pair was inferior?” said Deborah, despising herself for betraying any interest in the race.
He turned his glowing face towards her. “Oh, as to that, I would not say so by any means! It was all in the handling. When we came to Islington we found him with as bang-up a set-out of blood and bone as you could wish for: small heads, good necks, broad chests and thighs, pure Welsh bred! Beautifully matched too! But the instant Max laid eyes on them, he said to me that they were poled up too tight, and so they were. I could see Filey’s groom thought so too, but that’s Filey all over! He must always know best, and he is so cursed obstinate there’s no telling him anything! Well, there was quite a crowd gathered at the start, as you may suppose, and a good deal of betting going on. Some of the green “uns were plunging pretty heavily on Filey, because there’s no denying the bays are the showiest pair you’ll see in a twelvemonth; but the knowing ones put their money on Max, and, by Jupiter, they were right! Well, we were off to a good start, and Filey went ahead, just as Max thought he would. Max held the greys in all the way to Barnet, no more than keeping Filey in sight. I wish you might have seen Filey driving his cattle up Highgate Hill, as though it had been the last lap of the race, instead of the first! We went up behind him, just larking, you know: keeping her alive, at a gentle trot. Of course Filey did not take the hill in time, driving up it at that pace, and his near horse precious nearly stumbled as they went over the crest. When Max saw it, he said the race was our own. But that was before we got held up by that Accommodation coach! But I told you of that! We had a splendid run across Finchley Common, going good, very little traffic on the road. I would have passed Filey then, but Max said no; he would pass him in Barnet.” His lordship laughed at the memory. “In Barnet, of all places! But that is just like Max! I thought we should never be able to do it, for Barnet is always crowded. Filey can’t manage well in a street full of carts and chaises, and you could see he was fretting his cattle. They were sweating freely, and only half the course run! There was a chaise on one side of the road, and the Mail pulling out from the Red Lion, and a phaeton draw up outside some shop or other. Not enough room to allowed a cat to squeeze through, you’d have said! At all events, that what Filey must have thought, for he made no attempt to clear the chaise. Max saw his chance, and we went through, neatly as you please, at a spanking trot, threading our way. I wondered if we were going to take the phaeton’s off—wheel but we never so much as grazed it. Max has the lightest hand He says the only thing is, Filey may have ruined the bay mouths—oh, I did not tell you!—Max told Filey to name his price for his pair at the end, and has bought them. Filey was mad as fire, because of course Max’s offering to buy them showed that he thought it was Filey and not they who had lost the race. But he was so angry with them for losing that I would have sold them to the first man who offered for them. They were hanging on his hands when he brought them in Hatfield, but that was his fault. Berkeley says he always drived his worst against Max, because he is so devilish anxious to win and knows, though he won’t admit it, that Max is the better whip. We never lost the lead after Potter’s Bar.”
“You seem to have lost it after Barnet,” observed Miss Grantham dryly. “How was that?”
His lordship chuckled. “Oh, short of Hadley Green! I to Max that Filey was going to try to pass, and he said he might do so with his goodwill, for he would not spring the greys that stage. He only passed him at Barnet to fret him a trifle. There never was such a fool! Max says—”
“My dear Adrian, Max seems to have said a great deal, but wish you will try not to introduce those two words so often into your story!” said Miss Grantham blightingly.
His lordship flushed, and looked so hurt that Miss Grantham was sorry, and might have unsaid her words had she not recollected in time that it was no part of her policy to appear in an amiable light to him. She got up, saying in a cool voice: must go down to speak to Silas for a minute. Do you tell the rest of the tale to Phoebe! I am afraid I am very stupid, as I care nothing for driving, or curricle-racing, or horses. I shall come back presently, when you will be able to talk of something else, I hope!”
Lord Mablethorpe rose, and opened the door for her. When she had passed out of the-room, Phoebe said shyly: “Don’t be offended! I think she is a little worried over something. I am sure she did not mean it! She is so kind, and good!”
“I am afraid I have been very tedious,” he said. “The thing is, I found it so exciting—But it is different for you, naturally!”
“Oh no!” she said involuntarily. “I think it is the most exciting thing I ever heard! Indeed, I do! Please, please tell me the rest!”
Almost without knowing what she did, she stretched out her hand to him as she spoke. He came across the room towards her, and took her hand, and held it, looking at her with such a warm, loving expression in his eyes that her heart stood still. “Oh, Phoebe, you are so very sweet,” he said. “I do love you so dearly!”
Chapter 14
Two large tears welled up in Miss Laxton’s eyes, and rolled down her cheeks. “Oh, Adrian,” she said brokenly.
The next instant she was in his arms, and his lordship had forgotten both the race and his betrothal to Miss Grantham, but was wholly occupied in kissing Phoebe, drying her wet cheeks, and assuring her that she should never be unhappy or frightened again. It was she who came to earth first, raising her head from his shoulder, relinquishing her clutch on the cape of his coat, and saying in a drowned voice: “We must not! Deborah!”
His lordship let her go. She sat up, swallowing a sob, and they looked at one another, two troubled young people caught up by fate and unable to see the way to free themselves. His lordship gave a groan, and dropped his head between his clenched fists. “I must have been mad!”
“Oh no!” Phoebe said, dabbing at her eyes with a small handkerchief. “She is so very lovely, and kind, and— and—oh dear!”
“I thought I loved her. But I don’t. I love you, Phoebe! What are we to do?”
Miss Laxton’s eyes brimmed over again. “You will marry her, and I shall g-go into a nunnery, or s-something. You will soon f-forget me,” she said bravely.
This frightful picture of the future made Adrian raise his head, and say forcefully: “No!”
“But what can we do?” asked Phoebe. “I cannot marry Deb.”
Miss Laxton turned pale. “Oh, you can never tell her so!” An appalled silence fell. His lordship got up, and began to pace about the room. “If I don’t tell her, we shall all three of us be made unhappy.”
“No, no! She will never know, and you will forget this!”
“I shall never forget!” said Adrian fiercely. “And I could not pretend to Deb. She would guess the truth.”
“But it would be such a dreadful thing for you to do!” whispered Phoebe.
His lordship was almost as pale as she. “Yes. I know,” he said. “But she has not said yet that she will marry me. Perhaps—perhaps she does not mean to.”
She looked astonished. “But I thought—you told me—”
“Yes, yes, but it was never said in so many words! She used to laugh at me when I asked her to marry me. Then—then it did seem to me that she had changed towards me, and I thought too—But it is true that she has never yet said it. Phoebe, do you think that she cares for me?”
“Oh, how can she not?” Phoebe exclaimed.
“Well, I do not think that she does. Lately she has been—oh, not cross, but—but different!”
A shocking thought presented itself to Miss Laxton.
“Adrian, can it be that she suspects, and is jealous, or—or hurt?”
Their eyes met; his lordship’s chin seemed to harden. “We must tell her the truth.”
Phoebe sprang up in some agitation. “No, no, I implore you! Only consider how frightful it must appear! She invited me to her house, and has been everything that is kind! How could I possibly steal you from her? I would rather die!”
His lordship quite saw the force of this argument, but he was not satisfied with it. “Yes, but you did not steal me,” he said. “We did not mean to fall in love! We could not help ourselves, and that she will surely understand! You are blameless at least! It is I who deserve to be horse-whipped!”
