Page 2 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
Benedict Harcourt, Lord Haslemere, tossed the handful of gold coins in his fist into Lord Peregrine’s hat, then fell to one knee in the street and peered over his shoulder. “Right then, Perry. I’m ready. Get her up. There’sa good fellow.”
“Ready, love?” Perry plucked up the girl waiting on the pavement and settled her on Benedict’s back. “Hold on tight, now. Don’t want a cracked skull, eh?”
The girl took hold of Benedict’s hair with a grip that made his eyes water, and kicked her heels into his flanks, squealing with delight when he pawed at the ground and snorted. “Look at mine, Susannah! He’s likea real horse!”
“More like an ass.” Lord Harrington steadied his own rider and smirked at Benedict. “He’s got the face of one,if you ask me.”
“No onedidask you, Harrington. Now, be quiet, if you please, while I confer with my jockey regarding our strategy.” Benedict craned his neck to wink at the little red-headed chit on his back, then caught her legs to still her before she could unman him with her frenzied kicking.
Harrington snorted. “What bloody strategy? Run down to the bottom of the lane and back, and don’t lose your rider. Whoever makes it back firstwins the lot.”
“Only the worst sort of blackguard curses in front of a young lady, Harrington.” Benedict shot his friend a disgusted look. “Mindyour manners.”
Harrington rolled his eyes at Benedict, but he tipped his hat to the girls with a charming smile. “Beg pardon, ladies. Iforgot myself.”
Both girls giggled madly at this, and Benedict’s rider, still overcome with excitement, gave his hair another vicious tug. He winced and reached up to disentangle her fingers. “Hands on my head, Sarah, but not in my hair, or you’ll snatch me bald. Lock your legs around my waist, so you don’t take a tumble. Yes, there we are. That’s how a proper jockey does it.”
The coins clinked together as Perry took up the hat for safekeeping. “Right, then. On your marks, gentlemen.”
“Damn,” Harrington said, already forgetting his pledge not to curse. “If only we had a pistol, to set the thingoff properly.”
“Clever idea, Harrington, shooting a pistol into the air at midnight in the middle of Covent Garden. What could go wrong?”
Harrington frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
No, he wouldn’t have, but Benedict hadn’t invited Harrington along because he was a deep thinker. He was amusing enough, as far as London rogues went, but he had one of the thickest heads in England.
Perry waved Benedict over to the right side of the street and Harrington to the left, then took his place between them. “On my count, then, gentlemen, and, er…young ladies. On your marks, get set…go!”
A footrace had seemed like a harmless enough diversion at first, but like many of Benedict’s antics, it proved to be trickier than he’d anticipated. The lane was narrow, the cobbles slick and uneven, and both he and Harrington were a trifle sotted. They careened forward, their boots slipping from underneath them, and just missed slamming into each other and toppling their jockeysto the ground.
“Go on, faster!” Sarah jabbed her heels into Benedict’s stomach, squealing with glee as he raced down the lane. His heart shot into his throat when Harrington stumbled against him at the turn, visions of blood and twisted, childish limbs racing through his head, but they’d come too far to put a stop to it now, so he dug in and shot past Harrington to clear a safe pathway for himself and Sarah, his legs shaking andlungs burning.
“They’re coming into the final stretch,” Perry shouted as they drew closer. “And it’s…Haslemere and Sarah, by a nose! That big beak of yours finally came in handy, eh Haslemere? Too bad, Harrington!”
Harrington came to a halt beside Benedict, still panting. “Blast! Susannah and I had it up until that last bit. Damn you and your long legs, Haslemere. Shall we go again? A ten guinea wager this time?”
“Yes, yes, let’s go again!” Sarah clapped her hands. “That weresuch good fun!”
“Ten guineas?” Susannah breathed. “Cor, guv. That’s a lot of blunt, that is.”
“You’re quite right, Susannah. Itisa lot of blunt. Such high stakes demand a more adventurous race. What say you, Haslemere?”
Benedict recognized the gleam in Harrington’s eyes, and his own eyes narrowed. “Determined to break a bone tonight, Harrington?”
Harrington, who’d had a great deal more port than Benedict, shrugged off his concerns. “Nonsense, it’s safe enough. Ten guineas, but this time our jockeys ride on our shoulders,not our backs.”
“Are you mad?” Benedict peeled a squirming, clinging Sarah off his back. “I nearly droppedher as it was.”
“Oh, come now, Haslemere. It’s fine. Look, I’ll show you.” Harrington crouched down, and Susannah slid off his back. “That’s right, love. Now, lift her onto my shoulders, will you, Perry?”
Perry looked doubtful, but he grasped Susannah around her waist and lifted her onto Harrington’s shoulders. “Hold on to her, now, Harrington. Get a good grip on her legs, and don’t drop her.”
“What do you take me for, Perry? A proper stallion never loses his rider.” Harrington eased to a standing position with Susannah balanced on his shoulders, and turned to Benedict with a triumphant smile. “Now, stop grumbling, and get your rider mounted. Up you go, Sarah. Kneel down, Haslemere.”
Benedict didn’t move. “No. Not a chance, Harrington.”
“For God’s sake, Haslemere, what’s the trouble?” Harrington’s lips curled in the wicked grin that had wreaked untold havoc on London’s belles. “She wants to ride again, don’t you, Sarah?”
