Hunters

IX. Horses

IX. Horses

“They might as well call it the Royal Hat Cup,” Lecia muttered as she and Vaughan entered the racecourse. He covered his mouth with a fist to conceal his guttural laugh as a cough.

There were an ungodly number of hats, but it was to be expected. It was uniform, after all. However, that didn’t make Lecia appreciate them any more. Hers was simple and functional—now that it was June, there really was a need to hide from the sun—everyone else’s was worthy of its own seat.

“Your irritability is precious to me,” the Duke sighed fancifully. He patted her left hand where it rested on his arm as her right reached up to adjust her petite hat. She really was an endearingly fanatical mess: flushed cheeks, sophisticated scowl.

“I look horrible in hats,” she groaned. “They distort my head, and my face, and I look terrible. No wonder I’ve never been to the races.” She felt stiff and uncomfortable.

“You look lovely,” Vaughan reassured her with a tone that suggested it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And you had a marvelous time at the Derby,” he reminded her.

Sighing, she nodded. The Derby had been more exciting than she’d imagined. It was about more than just the horses: she’d met so many famous people, Oscar Wilde included. The race itself had been a great success, as she’d won quite a bit off of her bet on a horse named Melton. He looked somewhat like Wick—Lecia’s very uncreative nickname for her new steed—so she’d placed her money on him; the odds system was a trifle too confusing to learn in the heat, and her instincts served her better. Vaughan had bet on a colt named Paradox, and as he lost Mr. Wilde had said: I understand that Milton's Paradise Lost is being revived and will appear in Derby Week and will be published under the title Paradox Lost by Melton. Lecia found it quite humorous and recounted it to as many people as she could before retiring for bed. Vaughan, however, was somewhat bitter over his loss, though her joy made his resentment impossible to maintain.

“Will Melton be here?” Lecia asked.

“I don’t believe so,” Vaughan told her with a sigh. She attempted to pout and he couldn’t help but grin at her. As they approached the Royal Enclosure, Vaughan spotted some books and grabbed one, handing it off to his wife. “Check for him in there, but I reckon he’s on rest.”

Melton would not be running the Ascot that day, much to Lecia’s disappointment. However, as the thousands of other people flooded onto the grounds, she combed through the pedigrees of the horses that day and decided that she’d place her bet on a grey horse named Eastern Emperor. He shared similar relatives—some a bit incestuous, she realized with a start—with Melton; she was new to horseracing, but she figured that the talent had to be in the blood, like an inherence of titles.

The couple had been fortunate to snag a seat under a canvas umbrella. Rather, one had been reserved for them. The tables were quaint wooden tea tables with matching seats. It was odd to be in the enclosure, Lecia decided; admittance was limited to nobility and members of the gentry who had exceptional connections. Though they were also guests of the Queen, it was quite clear that everyone regarded the Duke with more esteem than the other visitants, so the attempt to have quiet tea with her husband as they looked on the lesser races of the day was futile. While no one was expressly rude or overbearing—because no one would dare to interrupt them—their gazes and tittering whispers were distracting. Furthermore, Lecia was not all that comfortable with how the men and women who did not have the privilege to be in her position eyed the enclosure. She felt like a million faces were vying for her attention, begging her to confront them and their misfortunes.

Lecia had grown up wealthy, yes; her father was a Baron and she had been wrapped in luxury from the moment she was born. She’d never particularly considered just how different her life was from the lower classes, and in Lekenbourgh the poorer families weren’t as destitute as some of the citizens of London. The realization was terrifying.