City of Secrets by Elisabeth Kidd Page A

least one race. If it proves too tiresome—or too exciting, for that matter—I’ll have fulfilled my obligation to look at it and may make my escape afterward. Is this your first visit to Newmarket, Mr. Wingate? Is there anything else to see here?”
    “I’m afraid I can be of little help there; this is my first visit as well. I obtained the use of the box from a friend I ran into at my club who was obliging enough to provide the carriage as well. Everything else has been young Mr. Fox’s doing.”
    “Then you can’t tell me about the races, either? Shall I place a bet?”
    “The Prince of Wales has a horse running today. You may bet on it if you wish, for the sake of Anglo-American friendship. My friend informs me that the prince’s horses generally do well, although my brother-in-law says precisely the opposite and invariably bets against the prince.”
    “Your brother-in-law? I didn’t know that Florence had a brother.”
    “Oh, yes. His name is Frank, but as he is something of a black sheep in the family, it’s no wonder that she hasn’t mentioned him. Not that she has confided much about him to me either.  It’s been several months since we have had any word from him, in any case.”
    “Thank you for warning me, then. I won’t embarrass Florence by asking about him.”
    Geoffrey smiled. “Oh, Frank is not so bad as all that, so far as I can tell.  At any rate”—he leaned back in his chair and added, in the most off-hand tone possible—“not when you consider Florence’s Aunt Louella May Falcone, who conjures up the spirits of her dead ancestors on her Ouija board. Or her Grandmother Hartwell, who claims to have been a spy for Jeb Stuart. Or her cousin Josiah Giddings. He keeps his dead mother’s embalmed corpse on display in the parlor.”
    Maddie, appalled, stared at Geoffrey until, looking closer, she saw the sly twinkle in his kind eyes.
    “Oh, you are dreadful to tease me that way!” she said, laughing. “I almost believed you!”
    He smiled. “Oh, some of it’s true.”
    Maddie resisted asking which part and changed the subject to something less provocative. But Geoffrey treated every subject as if it were something he had never considered before and found novel, and Maddie discovered that she enjoyed talking to him. He was very much at ease and made no demands; he did not expect her to be witty or to flatter his male pride. She thought she could understand a young woman being tempted to marry someone as kind and reliable as Geoffrey, although she did not quite understand what Florence in particular had seen in him.
    They turned to perusing the racing calendar, deciding on bets that they could both bear to lose but would not be embarrassed to have to report winning, and Geoffrey sent the messenger who came by for the purpose to place their bets for them. Having taken her host’s advice not to bet on the showiest animal in the running, which would very likely not “stay the course,” Maddie was pleased when the horse she chose did indeed win the first race but declared that she would quit while she was ahead. She interrupted Laurence Fox in the act of stowing some glass plates in his traveling photographic case to ask if he would take her to the window to collect her winnings. Mr. Fox, recalled to his escort duty, readily agreed.
    “You are a cautious gambler, Mrs. Malcolm,” Geoffrey observed admiringly.
    “It’s her only major fault,” Florence countered. She had bet on the showiest horse and was totting up her loses with an annoyed scowl.
    “I take chances only when the prize is worth the risk, Mr. Wingate,” Maddie said with a smile. “Shall we bring you back another bottle of champagne?”
    “No, there is more than enough here, thank you. Florence, as you may have noticed, does not stint on the important things in life.”
    With that, Maddie took Mr. Fox’s arm, and they turned out of the box in the direction of the paddock. The crowd around them included small groups