Page 67 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

Lady Hartwell clapped her hands once, delighted. “Then everything will come right in the end. I always say, if young people are going to find themselves in dramatic situations, they might as well come out of them with an engagement.”

“Mother,” Roman said again, but without force. “When have you ever said such a thing?”

“Oh, hush, Roman. I said it just now, didn’t I?” she said, waving a hand dismissively toward him.

The carriage wheels thudded over a rut. Emily braced herself with one hand on the seat, and Lyness reacted instantly—leaning forward, hand half-extended, barely stopping himself before reaching to steady her.

She noticed. Lady Hartwell noticed. Roman noticed.

Emily put a hand to her bonnet to adjust it and smiled faintly at him. “Thank you.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed above his cravat. “Of c-course.”

The warmth that came from his gaze was quiet, small, but unmistakable—like the first stirrings of sunlight warming earth before spring. Perhaps his mother was wrong about who was the flower and who the sun, as Emily felt rather like turning toward him, seeking whatever warmth she might find in that affectionate look.

As the Knavesmire came into view with crowds shifting like bright ribbons across the green, Lady Hartwell leaned in conspiratorially. “When you descend from the carriage, my dear, take Lyness’s arm without hesitation. Let people see you are comfortable. Confidence is the best armor you can wear at a time like this.” It was the only indication that there was a performance to make, and it immediately brought Emily’s mind back to the seriousness of the situation.

Emily gave a firm nod. “I will try, my lady.”

“I have every faith in you, my dear,” Lady Hartwell said gently. “You are already braver than you think.”

The carriage rolled to a stop. Roman stepped out first, then offered his hand to his mother. Lyness moved next, turning back toward the doorway after he landed upon the ground. Emily set her hand into his. He held it firmly, with a confidence she wished she felt on her own.

“Ready?” Lyness asked quietly.

“No,” she admitted. “But I am willing.”

His faint, amused smile felt like a reward. They stepped out together into the bright swirl of the races, their linked hands a silent announcement that traveled faster than any carriage.

The sunlight struck her with far more enthusiasm than she could muster for it, but Lyness’s steady hand around hers kept her from retreating into the carriage. The air smelled of trampled grass and horses, and the faint sweetness of crushed clover beneath the wheels of passing conveyances. People in vibrant race-day attire streamed along the edge of the track like peacocks strutting across a lawn.

Emily’s heart fluttered. So many faces. So many glances turning their way.

Lyness stepped slightly closer, not touching her beyond the hand he already held, but shielding her all the same. “It will not be overwhelming once we start walking,” he murmured.

She looked up at him. “You cannot know that.” It was nearly the same thing Juniper had told her about the ball and dancing. That certainly had turned out the most overwhelming experience of her life.

His brows lifted in a quiet, earnest attempt at reassurance. “No,” he said, “but I c-can promise not to let go.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm as his words landed gently upon her anxieties. She nodded once.

Lady Hartwell called after them, “Do not stray too far, but take your time, my dears!”

It might as well have been an announcement to the entire Knavesmire, given the way heads turned toward them. Emily focused instead on Lyness, on the way he angled their path so the crowds thinned, on the gently increasing pressure of his fingers over her hand whenever the ground dipped or rose.

“You needn’t worry about your footing,” he murmured. “I will watch the ground for us both.”

Something absurdly tender rose in her throat. “I am not quite that helpless.”

“I know,” he said quickly, a flush rising beneath his cheekbones. “Of c-course not. However, I wish to spare you every unnecessary discomfort.”

There it was again. That sincere, charming care for her. She ought not be affected by it as she was. And yet…

They walked along the outer edge of the racecourse, the roar of the crowd gathering near the stands rolling faintly across the open land. Emily inhaled deeply, willing her senses to arrange themselves into order. “I cannot imagine why Society takes such pleasure in horses running in circles.”

Lyness startled and made a tiny, coughing sound that became laughter, warm and genuine. “It is not a circle. Well, not exactly.”

She glanced up, startled that she had said something so bold. “I did not mean it literally. I merely⁠—”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I was not laughing at your words. But it was refreshing to hear my own sentiments from someone else. I come to support my friends and to enjoy the general spectacle, I suppose. But I am not overly fond of the actual racing.”