Part 19 (2/2)

But Thistledown was indeed showing the field a clean pair of heels.

Halfway down the straight, her stride lengthened even more--she appeared to be flying when she flashed past the post.

”She won! She won!” Lucinda grasped both Harry's arms and all but danced.

”I told you she would!”

Rather more accustomed to the delights of victory, Harry looked down at her face, wreathed in smiles and lit by the same joy he still felt every time one of his horses came home first. He knew he was smiling, as delighted as she if rather more circ.u.mspect in showing it.

Lucinda turned back to locate Thistledown, now being led from the course.

”Can we go and see her now?”

”Indeed we can.” Harry took her hand and tucked it tightly in his arm.

”You promised to meet her in the winner's circle, remember?”

Lucinda blinked as he steered her out of the crowded stand.

”Is it permissible for ladies to enter the winner's circle?”

”There's no rule against it--in fact--' Harry slanted a glance at her '--I suspect the Head of the Committee will be delighted to see you.” When she shot him a suspicious glance, he laughed and urged her on. Once out of the enclosure and free of those members keen to press their congratulations, a path cleared before them, leading directly to the roped arena where Thistledown, s.h.i.+ny coat flickering but clearly untired by her dash, waited patiently.

As soon as Lucinda emerged from the crowd, the mare pushed her head forward, dragging on the reins to get to Lucinda's side. Lucinda hurried forward, crooning her praises.

Harry looked on indulgently.

”Well, Lester! Another trophy for your mantel-- surprised it hasn't collapsed.”

Harry turned as the President of the Jockey Club, present Head of the Race Committee, appeared at his elbow. In his hands, he held a gold-plated statuette in the shape of a lady.

”Remarkable run-- truly remarkable.”

Shaking hands, Harry nodded.

”Particularly as she's just recovered from a strained fetlock--I wasn't sure I'd race her.”

”Just as well you did.” The President's eye was on the horse and the woman apparently chatting to the beast.

”Nice conformation.”

Harry knew very well that Lord Norwich was not referring to the mare.

”Indeed.” His tone was dry; Lord Norwich, who had known him from the cradle, lifted a brow at him.

Glancing at the statuette, Harry confirmed that the lady was indeed decently garbed, then nodded at Lucinda.

”It was Mrs Babbacombe who delivered the inspirational address prior to the race. Perhaps she should accept the award on my behalf?.”

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