Free Lucy Muir by Highland Rivalry Page A

she was doing anything improper, some might consider her behaviour hoydenish at the least.
    Twenty minutes before the hour. If the race were to begin at six, Wilfred had best arrive soon. Phoebe hoped to leave and return with no one the wiser that Saturday morning, but if she should be missed she had instructed Sara to say she had gone for a ride in the Park. Which was true, as far as it went.
    She heard a clatter upon the street and looked out. Wilfred’s phaeton was just pulling up. She slipped quietly out of the house and Wilfred silently assisted Phoebe into his vehicle. As she settled herself upon the seat, Phoebe noticed Celeste waving to her from the window next door and waved back. She was glad to have been able to persuade Celeste not to attend the race.
    Wilfred was keyed up and chattered on while Phoebe wondered just how she was going to contrive to stay in her seat once the racing began. She had never been in a high perch phaeton before and was rather alarmed to note that the body sat directly over the front wheels and that she was extremely high off the ground in a most unsteady-feeling small seat.
    When they arrived at the Park, Phoebe did not get down, fearing that if she did she might be reluctant to climb back up or that someone might recognize her if they saw her too closely. There were several people assembled at the Ring. Mr. Tucker, Wilfred’s challenger, had already arrived and the loudly dressed female in his phaeton was laughing immodestly at something he said. Tucker’s passenger was not one of the beau monde—that was evident. Phoebe was relieved to notice most of the others present appeared to be young sporting gentlemen such as Wilfred—gentlemen unlikely to recognize her. Then she spied Lord Murray, his large form unmistakable. Oh dear, she thought, wondering why she had not considered that the Scottish laird might be present, given the friendship that seemed to have sprung up between him and Wilfred. She could not imagine what he would think if he were to recognize her. She wanted to gain his attention and interest, but not in this manner!
    Phoebe did not have long to worry about Lord Murray, however, for Wilfred sprang back up into the phaeton and he and Tucker lined up in the Ring, the circular drive in Hyde Park. The signal was given, and they were off. Phoebe felt herself tip backwards at the sudden start, and soon forgot all her other worries as her main concern became remaining in the phaeton. The high vehicle dipped and swayed most alarmingly, and Phoebe clutched ignominiously at the edge of the seat. As it continued to dip, surge and sway, Phoebe was thankful that at least she did not have a weak stomach. The wind caught under the deep brim of her bonnet and she bent forward in an effort to keep it from blowing off. She noticed without caring that Tucker was in the lead. Wilfred did not seem concerned, however, and slowly gained on his opponent. Phoebe could hear Tucker’s passenger’s high-pitched shrieks over the thundering of the horses’ hooves and the grating of the wheels on the dirt surface. Wilfred flicked his whip lightly, and with another sickening surge, his phaeton drew up even with Tucker’s. The huge wheels appeared to come dangerously close together to Phoebe’s uneducated eyes, and she cravenly closed them. However, the feeling of rushing blindly down a tunnel was not much better, and she opened them again, just as a loud shout went up from the spectators. She saw with relief that they were nearing the end of the course, and prayed that she would stay in her seat until the race was over. She could hear Tucker’s phaeton close behind, but he did not pass them, and Wilfred crossed the finish line a whole length ahead.
    Wilfred, overjoyed with his victory, gave a shout and jumped down to be surrounded by gentlemen who pounded him heartily on his back. A groom rushed forward to care for the horses, but no one thought to help Phoebe. Phoebe, anxious to feel the earth