“Half a million pounds!” she murmured almost beneath her breath. “Oh, Uncle Roderick, I have lost him now! He will be able to — marry Hetty as he has always wanted to do.”
Lord Farquhar put an arm round her shoulders.
“You might do well to remember an adage from the racing world,” he said. “It is – ‘One has never lost a race until another horse is first past the winning post’!”
Three weeks later, helping himself to cutlets furnished by his own lambs, garnished with mushrooms picked in his own meadows, Lord Corbury looked across the large oval room in which he was sitting through the high windows onto the well-kept garden, which was bathed in sunshine.
It was a fine day and he was thinking that he would rather ride across the fields to inspect the work that was taking place in one of hi
