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connection, which suggested Miss Dalling was, at least in part, as she appeared—a gently bred young lady.
    He glanced at her, strolling by his side, head up, scanning the stable crews on the other side of the track. Being a gently bred young lady didn’t preclude her also being an adventuress.
    With his eyes, he traced her perfect profile, then realized she, and Miss Blake, too, were not idly scanning. They were searching.
    â€œAre you looking for someone in particular?”
    Pris slowly turned her head, using the moment before she met his eyes to decide how to answer. “As you know, we’re from Ireland. Aunt Eugenia said there should be a number of Irish stables here—she asked us to look and see if we noticed anyone.”
    â€œAnyone who looked Irish,” Adelaide helpfully piped up. “Orsounded Irish.”
    Pris hurried to reclaim Caxton’s attention. “Do you know which Irish stables will be running horses here over the next weeks?”
    He met her eyes, then glanced across the turf. “There are Irish stables who bring horses over to compete, but most rent stables out on the Heath and bring their runners in to local stables only on the day they run. They generally use local jockeys, ones who know the course well.” He nodded toward the congregation of stable hands. “The only crew from Irish stables you’re likely to come across today are the owners and trainers, maybe a head stableman.”
    â€œI see.” Pris was keen to close that avenue of conversation before it revealed too much.
    Caxton halted. “If you wish, I could escort you that way. I wouldn’t recommend that ladies venture into that area alone, but you’ll be safe with me.”
    Halting, too, she met his eyes, and wished she dared take up his offer; she was desperate to locate Rus. Failing him, she’d be happy to find any member of the Cromarty crew. But…she forced any easy smile. “Perhaps some other time. I fear we’ve dallied long enough. Aunt Eugenia will start to worry over where we are.”
    She held out her hand. “Thank you for your company, sir. Aunt Eugenia will be grateful for the information you imparted.”
    He grasped her hand. She was immediately conscious of warmth, of heat, of a prickling awareness that spread from where his fingers closed firmly about hers. Keeping her gaze level and unwavering, she made a mental note to avoid giving him her hand again.
    â€œRestricted though it was?” His eyes held hers. More, he studied her, watched her.
    â€œIndeed.” She drew back on her fingers. He held them for an instant, then let them slide from his…
    She sensed the implicit warning, but was uncertain precisely what he was warning her not to do, which line he was warning her not to cross.
    Neither her face nor his hinted of deeper meaning. Adelaide glowed as he turned to her; she gaily bade him farewell.
    Before Pris could execute a clean parting, he asked, and Adelaide blithely volunteered that they’d driven into town, and that their gig was stabled at the Crown & Quirt on the High Street.
    Pris watched him like a hawk, but he gave no indication that the information was of any particular interest to him. Smiling easily, he bowed and wished them a safe journey home.
    With a regal inclination of her head, she linked her arm in Adelaide’s and resolutely drew her away. It took effort, but she refused to look back, even though she felt his dark gaze lingering on her, literally, until they passed out of his sight.
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    I have to find some way to locate Rus.” Pris sat at the luncheon table in the neat manor house Eugenia had rented and absentmindedly picked at a bunch of grapes. “It must be as Caxton said—Cromarty’s rented a stable out on the Heath.”
    â€œHow big is this Heath?” Eugenia had pushed back from the table and lifted her tatting into her lap.
    Pris wrinkled her nose. “As far as I