“Very nice horses,” he said,—“light, but very nice. That one I like best,” he added, pointing to a dark bay mare, who was already giving her boy some trouble.
“That’s lucky,” the Duke answered, “for she’s your mount. I must go and talk to the clerk about your entry. It is a little late, but I think that it will be all right.”
The Prince glanced over Lady Grace’s mare and turned aside to join Penelope and Somerfield.
“I like the look of my horse, Sir Charles,” he said. “I think that I shall beat you today.”
“We both start at five to one,” Somerfield answered. “Shall we have a bet?”
“With pleasure,” the Prince agreed. “Will you name the amount? I do not know what is usual.”
“Anything you like,” Somerfield answered, “from ten pounds to a hundred.”
“One hundred,—we will say one hundred, then,” the Prince declared. “My mount against yours. So!”
He threw off his overcoat, and they saw for the first time that he was dressed in English riding clothes of dark material, but absolutely correct cut.
“I must go now and be introduced to the Clerk of the Course,” he said. “Ah, here is Lady Grace!” he added. “Come with me, Lady Grace. Your father is seeing about my entry. I think that in five minutes the bell will ring.”