Page 85 of A Single Obsession

The men nodded at each other.

“Miss Eliza—”

“I’ve found Romeo.”

“What?”

“Stanton showed me where they were keeping him.”

“Are you certain?”

She pulled a face. “I think you might trust me to recognise Romeo when I see him.”

“Horse knows the lass,” Stanton said. “Besides, I heard one of ’em when he was in his cups. Makes sense now. Said as how they’ll never find him because they’re looking in the wrong place. T’other one shut him up quick, but old Stanton heard him all right.”

Eliza’s forehead puckered. “What should we do? Fetch the constable?”

“Baxter wouldn’t like that,” the old man muttered. “Happen, I’ll have a word with him.” He shuffled away and disappeared into the inn.

“We can’t leave Romeo here,” she said. “We must tell his lordship. Perhaps there’s still time for him to race.”

“You know as well as I do that Lord Beaumont left this morning. By the time a message got to him, it would be too late. The contest is in three days.”

Eliza felt the colour drain from her cheeks. “But Romeo must compete now we’ve found him. No one will believe he was ever stolen if he doesn’t take part. Everyone would think Lord Beaumont had lied about the theft and forfeited the wager to save his horse, believing he couldn’t win. He’d be a laughing-stock and the damage to his reputation on the racecourse could be disastrous.”

She wrung her hands in distress. “Romeo must compete. He has to.”

Finch shook his head. “Even if we took him to Epsom ourselves, you forget Jem was injured the night of the theft. Romeo has no jockey, and without a jockey, he cannot race.”

Eliza chewed on her bottom lip as she thought it over. “You’ll have to ride him.”

Finch guffawed. “Aren’t you overlooking something? I’m nigh on six feet tall and weigh far too much for that colt to have a chance of winning. Though I’m flattered that you think I’d make a fine jockey, it just won’t do. I’m too big. Now, if I were your size, I could give it a go, but…”

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the gleam in her eyes. “Look here, Miss Eliza. There’s no call for you to do anything mad.”

“I’ll ride him.”

“No. Absolutely not. It would be too dangerous by far. I’ll tell your father. He’ll stop you.”

“I’m sure he would, if he knew. But unfortunately—or rather fortunately—he’s in West Meon, and your duty, Finch, is to me, not to my father.”

He gave her a hard stare. “This is not like riding until you’re fit to drop, to see where a balloon came down, or even dressing up as a lad to go out with the hunt. This is a public race we’re talking about. If anyone saw through your masquerade, you’d be ruined. Not even his lordship could save you. Lady Harting wouldn’t put up with the scandal. She’d stop your marriage, you can be sure of it.”

Eliza mulled over Finch’s words. Was she really risking her happiness? No. Her happiness was already gone, but if she rode Romeo in the race—if she could win for Beau—he’d be free. He would not have to go through with this sham of a marriage.

When he was ready, he would choose his own bride—and she’d be waiting.

And if he chose her then, she’d know she was his choice and not his mother’s, and that he was marrying her because he wanted to, and not because he must.

In a matter of minutes, Eliza had formed the whole plan in her mind. After they secured Romeo’s release, they would meet up with the chaise and she would inform Sarah they would join Lord Beaumont at Epsom rather than heading for London.

Finch would tell Beau Romeo had been discovered and that he’d found him a jockey. On the day of the race, she would leave town on Whisper, transform into her manly garb at a quiet inn, and then ride to the racecourse. With a little dissemblance, she hoped to keep everyone except her groom in the dark about what she was doing.

She dared not tell her maid. If Sarah learned what she was planning, she would try to stop her, and Eliza realised this was something she needed to do. Part of her said she was just trying to ensure Beau won his bet, but deep down, she knew it was a last cry for love.

It was a tremendous risk. If her behaviour became known, her reputation would be ruined and no one, least of all the Viscount, would ever want to marry her.

Stanton came out of the inn again with the landlord in tow.