Nor was this energy wasted. The edge had scarcely gone from the mare’s morning freshness before the Colonel was rewarded by the sight of a slim figure, in a habit of cerulean blue, cantering ahead of him, unattended by any groom, and mounted on a raking grey hunter.
The Colonel gave the mare her head, and in two minutes was abreast of the grey. Lady Barbara, hearing the flying hooves, had turned her head, and immediately urged the grey to a gallop. Down the deserted Allée raced the horses, between two rows of thick lime trees, and with the still waters of the canal shining on their left.
‘To the bridge!’ called Barbara.
The Colonel held the mare in a little. ‘Done! What will you wager?’
‘Anything you please!’ she said recklessly.
‘Too rash! I might take an unfair advantage!’
‘Pooh!’ she returned.
They flew on, side by side, until in the distance the bridge leading over the canal to the Laekon road came into sight. Then the Colonel relaxed his grip and allowed the Doll to lengthen her stride. For a moment or two the grey kept abreast, but the pace was too swift for her to hold. The mare pulled ahead, flashed on up the avenue, was checked just short of the bridge, and reached it, dancing on her hooves and snatching a little at the bit.
Barbara came up like a thunderbolt, and reined in, panting. ‘Oh, by God! Three lengths!’ she called out. ‘What do I lose?’
The Colonel leaned forward in the saddle to pat the Doll’s neck. Under the brim of his low-cocked hat his eyes laughed into Barbara’s. ‘I wish it might be your heart!’
‘My dear sir, don’t you know I haven’t one? Come now! In all seriousness?’
He looked at her thoughtfully. She had had the audacity to cram over her flaming curls a hat like an English officer’s forage cap. She wore it at a raffish angle, the leathern peak almost obscuring the vision of one merry eye. Her habit was severely plain, with no more than two rows of silver buttons adorning it, but the cravat round her throat was deeply edged with lace, its ends thrust through a buttonhole.
‘One of your gloves,’ said the Colonel, and held out his hand.
She pulled it off at once, and tossed it to him. He caught it, and tucked it into the breast of his coat.
She wheeled her mount, and prepared to retrace her steps. The Colonel fell in beside her at a walking pace.
‘Do you collect gloves, Colonel?’
‘I have not up till now,’ he replied. ‘But a glove is a satisfactory keepsake, you know. Something of the wearer always remains with it.’
‘Let me tell you that a gallant man would have let me win!’ she said, with a touch of raillery.
He turned his head. ‘Are you in general so spoilt?’
‘Of course! I’m Bab Childe!’ she replied, opening her eyes at him.
‘And challenged me to a race in the expectation of being permitted to win?’
Her mouth lifted a little at the corners; the one eye he could see glinted provocatively. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think you are too good a sportsman, Lady Barbara.’
‘Am I? I wonder?’ Her gaze flitted to the Doll; she said appreciatively: ‘I like a man to be a judge of horseflesh. What’s her breeding?’
‘I haven’t a notion,’ replied the Colonel. ‘To tell you the truth, she is out of my brother’s stable.’
‘I thought I knew her. But this is abominable! How was I to guess you would steal one of Worth’s horses? I consider you to have won almost by a trick! She’s the devil to go, isn’t she? Does he know you have her out?’
‘Not yet,’ admitted the Colonel. ‘My dependence is all on his being still too delighted at having me restored to him to object.’
She laughed. ‘You deserve to be thrown out of doors! I believe that to be the mare he habitually rides himself!’
‘Oh, it won’t come to that!’ said the Colonel. ‘I shall implore my sister-in-law’s intercession. That is a nice fellow you have there.’
She passed her hand over the grey’s neck. ‘Yes, this is Coup de Grâce. We are in the same case, only that while you stole your lady, I have been lent this gentleman.’