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if ever there was is how I would describe her.’ He paused with a small private smile and a playful wink at Beatrice. ‘Dark horse, maybe, but she is also clever and cunning and always dangerous.’
    â€˜Really,’ Julius uttered quietly. ‘A woman after my own heart.’
    Beatrice was so close, she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. ‘Oh, no, Lord Chadwick,’ she countered coldly. ‘You can keep your heart. That is the last thing I want from you.’
    He regarded her long and hard before replying. ‘I shall. My heart has always been in my own safe keeping, and there it will remain. Safe. But you intrigue me, Miss Fanshaw. Already I am wondering what I have let myself in for. And I was beginning to imagine you would become unseated at the first hurdle.’
    â€˜Don’t you believe it,’ George told him. ‘Beatrice has the best pair of hands I’ve ever seen. She knows horses—could whisper a horse out of a field. But should you win, Julius, what forfeit will you ask of her?’
    Lord Chadwick looked at George as he considered his question, but his penetrating gaze returned to Beatrice.
    Curious as to what his reply would be, Beatrice waited expectantly. The glow in her face now faded. She straightened her back.
    At length he said, ‘As to that, I have not yet decided. But I will, and she may not like it when I have.’ He bowed his head ever so slightly. ‘Until tomorrow, Miss Fanshaw. I look forward to our race.’
    Â 
    Beatrice had not imagined confronting Lord Chadwick would require such an effort. On reaching the house her stomach was still tied in knots and her heart had yet to find its customary rhythm. Nervousness was not a reaction to which she was normally susceptible. There was no place in her scheme of things for faint heartedness, and this afternoon she had taken the first step to reclaiming Larkhill. Recalling how Lord Chadwick had looked at her with open admiration, her lips quirked. In the circumstances, it was a definitely heartening thought.
    She was about to cross the hall to the stairs when a voice rang out, halting her.
    â€˜A word, Beatrice.’
    She turned to face her aunt, her brow furrowed with a twinge of premonition. She got the familiar feeling that trouble was afoot, and as she noted her aunt’s sharp look, that piercing glance told her plainly that some kind of storm was brewing. It was plain that Lady Standish was both appalled and incensed over her niece’s conduct.
    â€˜Beatrice! How dare you conduct yourself in this manner? How dare you? And to publicly take LordChadwick to task over past grievances was outrageous—an absolute disgrace.’
    Beatrice’s green eyes flashed, but when she spoke she managed to moderate her tone. ‘I meant no offence, Aunt Moira. Truly.’
    â€˜I know about the wager between the two of you and you forget yourself. Not only do you shame yourself, but me and our good name. I will not have it. You make yourself a disgrace. Such freakish sports are not fitting for a young lady of quality. I will not have the reputation of this family jeopardised by your folly.’
    â€˜I’m sorry if I have upset you, Aunt Moira, but I never could resist a challenge.’
    â€˜A challenge? Beatrice, this is me you are talking to, not a fool. You haven’t the first inkling of social graces. In that I have tried and failed, for you were determined not to learn. By your activities you encourage Lord Chadwick. I see that. Why do you always take such delight in being disobedient?’
    Tired of being told what to do, Beatrice averted her eyes, trying to keep her anger and frustration at bay, but rebellion was bubbling away inside her. ‘Because I am old enough to look after myself.’
    Lady Moira appeared undaunted. ‘In society no woman is old enough to look after herself in certain circumstances—and you are just eighteen years