Free Recklessly Yours by Allison Chase

Victoria.
    They emerged back into brilliant sunlight amid a patchwork of neatly fenced paddocks where grooms were walking a dozen or so horses. Far beyond, on the pastureland surrounding Masterfield Park, mares and tiny foals grazed and played in the morning sun. Closer, at the base of the enclosures, an assembly of some one hundred people milled about, a moving mosaic of top hats, parasols, and bright, beribboned bonnets. Some sat in chairs placed along a split-rail fence; others strolled through the grass or helped themselves to refreshments beneath the shade of a wide elm tree.
    â€œOh, what a breathtaking scene,” Ivy exclaimed.
    â€œAnd good gracious, it appears as if the whole of racing society is assembled here.”
    Lady Sabrina regarded Willow with a moue of surprise. “Of course. What had you expected?”
    Holly and her sisters exchanged significant looks.
    â€œLord and Lady Wiltshire, may I present the Sutherland sisters: Lady Harrow, Miss Holly Sutherland, and Miss Willow Sutherland. Ah, Lord Beecham, this is . . .” Lady Sabrina made the introductions as they proceeded through the crowd.
    In every instance they were met with outward civility, but Holly perceived an underlying curiosity that made her and her sisters objects of scrutiny. Who were these newcomers to the racing scene? many of those inquiring looks asked. Did these green chits know what they were about? Would they be properly guided by their menfolk? And would they pose any true challenge to the status quo and thus upset the well-established equilibrium of the turf?
    â€œThey are viewing us as potential threats to their purses,” Holly murmured after Lady Sabrina excused herself and disappeared into the throng.
    Ivy snapped open her parasol. “Fortunes are made and lost in these arenas, and we bring an unknown quotient to the mix.”
    â€œPay sharp attention to everyone you converse with and jot down notes as soon as you can,” Holly reminded them. “You did both remember to bring notepaper and pencils?”
    They nodded, and Willow gave her reticule a pat. “Espionage is so very exciting, isn’t it?”
    Ivy shushed her. “We want to blend in, Willow, not cause a stir.”
    â€œToo late for that,” Holly pointed out. She passed a gaze over the crowd, raising a hand to wave at familiar faces. “We must use our present notoriety to our advantage.”
    â€œNotoriety? Whom do you mean? Do I have a guest on whom I must keep a close watch?”
    Holly whirled about. Colin Ashworth stood just behind her, his expression both quizzical and amused. How long had he been there? How much had he heard? She quickly recounted all she and her sisters had said. “I—I was speaking in general terms . . . about—about racing,” she stammered, hoping her pounding heart wasn’t just then sending a revealing blush to her cheeks.
    It didn’t help that he wore a riding coat of rich brown velvet that made his hair flash brighter gold and his eyes darken to cobalt, or that those eyes crinkled as he flashed a devastating smile. “Were you, indeed?”
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    â€œOf course. We are here to learn all we can.”
    Something in those wide eyes of hers raised a suspicion that Colin had interrupted a conversation not meant to be overheard. While her sisters smiled at him, Holly Sutherland blinked up at him as she seemed to gather her composure and prepare to . . .
    To what? Unless he was greatly mistaken, she had flirted with him yesterday at the track, employing those thick lashes and that single dimple in her right cheek as persuasively as a highwayman employs his blunderbuss. Except instead of valuables, the item in danger of being stolen was Colin’s heart.
    The darker-haired Ivy stepped forward and grasped his wrists. With the privilege of a best friend’s wife, she kissed his cheeks and then stepped back without releasing him. “Colin, you scoundrel! Do stop