Page 89 of A Torn Allegiance
Elsie’s mother smiled in an overly cheerful manner. “There will be tough competition at this phaeton race. Who would have thought that something meant to be so diverting could have become spoken of as a serious pursuit?”
“Not just spoken of. There is some serious money at stake on these wins.” Her father adjusted his seat, his expression indicating he himself had such monetary concerns.
“Are most men voting for Duncan?” Elsie wondered what the source of this parental contention really was.
“Some are.” Her mother adjusted her skirts. “But many also predict that our princes will make a good showing.” She didn’t say win, which Elsie suspected was purposeful.
“So people are voting in favor of Prince Hayes?” she asked.
“They are, yes.” Her mother glanced at her father apologetically and then turned back to Elsie.
“Duncan is expected to win.” Her father’s swift nod said the conversation was closed, but of course, Elsie was far from finished wondering what was going on.
They traveled all the way through London and then out to the country until they saw multiple carriages waiting on the sides of the road. Someone had built an actual structure there, and had dug lines in the dirt road.
“Is that the finish line, then?” Elsie pointed.
“And the starting line as well. Apparently, they go up to the next village, round a tree, and return.” Her mother pointed way off in the distance, to the west.
They walked in between carriages, avoiding the horses, and made their way to the platform. Women were gathered already, parasols up, but there was plenty of space still for their group. Elsie’s parents immediately began conversing with someone about the weather and other boring topics, so Elsie shifted closer to Lady Sophie, and they searched out the carriages.
“Are some watching from inside their carriages?”
A window opened for a moment, and a hand lifted in their direction to wave.
Lady Sophie laughed and waved. “I’m not certain who that might be, but let’s wave back.”
“Good idea.”
More and more people arrived, filling in the space around them and in front of them and filling the platform to absolute capacity. Lady Annabeth and her friends joined their platform to the right. After a moment, Lady Annabeth looked over and waved, with what looked to be a semi-genuine smile.
“What do my eyes see?” Lady Sophie turned to Elsie, incredulous.
“I cannot explain it beyond what I told you happened at her ball.”
“But there isn’t a prince in sight.”
“Perhaps she is considering her own place in the world and would like to have a purpose beyond primping and smiling and looking attractive.”
Lady Sophie’s mouth dropped open. “You believe that?”
Elsie studied the group for a moment and then shrugged. “Who can say? Hayes suggested reaching out to them individually to attempt a friendship.”
“And have you?”
“A bit—not with Lady Annabeth—but who can tell whether it has made a difference?”
“If they ever show up at our meetings, that’s when we will know they’ve overcome themselves to be friendly.”
“True.” Her heart ached with a touch of sorrow that she might soon leave her meetings behind.
And then the crowds around her started cheering and pointing.
A great dust cloud rose in the distance, coming from London, far greater than any single carriage could have created.
Lady Sophie jumped up and down. “They’re coming!”
The Duke of Sumter arrived just then and joined them on the platform at Lady Sophie’s side. “I heard they’ve had a new entry.”
