He’d left his place to make a wager of his own – and slightly out of boredom already, because horse-racing was dull as muck and slumming it was usually fun for a brief interlude – but then he’d caught a flash of a familiar face and blinked, because surely that wasn’t her. Miss Dashwood ought to be sitting somewhere far removed from the rabble, eating tea and cakes.
But no, that was her, sneaking around chaperoneless, he was convinced of it – but he lost sight of her in the crowd for a few moments and once he spotted her again, she wasn’t alone anymore.
For Merlin’s sake, Kristoffer moaned in his head as he shoved through the throng to reach the ruffians she’d attracted. Of course she would have the gall to make a white knight of him. It was only because he found her diverting, he told himself, trying not to hear her ordering them to unhand her, as if louts listened to instructions. He rolled his eyes and drew his wand as he plunged into the scene, shooting a stinging jinx at the man who’d laid his hand on her. With any luck he’d snatch his hand back and Miss Dashwood would seize the moment, if his yelp was anything to go by. (Maybe there was a pang to see it, some mirror memory of the moves he had tried on her at New Year’s – without avail, obviously.) Hell, he couldn’t believe he was doing this, but Kris lurched between them, wand at the ready. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to duel all day,” he drawled, looking disparagingly at the lecher. “Touch her again and I’ll have my reason.”
He did half hope he’d get to make good on his word and give the fellow a good flaying, but the man seemed to have sense enough not to provoke an upper class gentleman in broad daylight. Disappointing – but as he stared at the stranger, daring him to flee, he did offer Miss Dashwood a sidelong glance and a murmur in her ear: “This is where you go looking for adventures, Miss Dashwood?” Of all the trouble she could get into, she had really decided to get muddy at the racecourse?
But no, that was her, sneaking around chaperoneless, he was convinced of it – but he lost sight of her in the crowd for a few moments and once he spotted her again, she wasn’t alone anymore.
For Merlin’s sake, Kristoffer moaned in his head as he shoved through the throng to reach the ruffians she’d attracted. Of course she would have the gall to make a white knight of him. It was only because he found her diverting, he told himself, trying not to hear her ordering them to unhand her, as if louts listened to instructions. He rolled his eyes and drew his wand as he plunged into the scene, shooting a stinging jinx at the man who’d laid his hand on her. With any luck he’d snatch his hand back and Miss Dashwood would seize the moment, if his yelp was anything to go by. (Maybe there was a pang to see it, some mirror memory of the moves he had tried on her at New Year’s – without avail, obviously.) Hell, he couldn’t believe he was doing this, but Kris lurched between them, wand at the ready. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to duel all day,” he drawled, looking disparagingly at the lecher. “Touch her again and I’ll have my reason.”
He did half hope he’d get to make good on his word and give the fellow a good flaying, but the man seemed to have sense enough not to provoke an upper class gentleman in broad daylight. Disappointing – but as he stared at the stranger, daring him to flee, he did offer Miss Dashwood a sidelong glance and a murmur in her ear: “This is where you go looking for adventures, Miss Dashwood?” Of all the trouble she could get into, she had really decided to get muddy at the racecourse?
