4th July, 1895 — Uttoxeter Races

Fanning herself with her race card Gretchen took a moment to scan the crowd. She usually did this prior to anything else – and hated herself for being quite so pathetic – but, once again, the man she had been hoping to see avoid kill? encounter was notable only by his absence. Unsure how to feel Gretchen opted for indifference and so caught up was she in keeping herself in that state she didn’t notice until too late that she was being beckoned into a conversation with her aunt and a portly gentleman she knew was a bachelor because it had been dropped like an anvil into several conversations over the last month.

There was only so long she could ignore the summons. Only so much interest she could feign in the race in front of her before her name was called and she had no choice but to present herself like a horse he was going to assess. Determinately she stared out to sea until someone sidled into the spot next to hers and she grimaced as she glanced towards him.

Except it was a very different him and Gretchen laughed in relief.

“Apologies Mr Longbottom,” she said, regaining her composure swiftly but unable to stymie the relief. “I was expecting someone else.”

Beckett Longbottom | Daffodil Grimstone

  

---

Bee is tremendous, isn't she?

Beckett was into the season now whether he liked it or not. He'd been making an effort, minimal at best, but still more than he had in the past. Of course he spent most of his time at events watching Juniper, waiting to see if he could interrupt or if she was having any luck beating him at their deal. So far it was the only thing keeping him interested.

Still, he would hate to lose to her, so he had accepted several invitations to things he would have normally skipped. The horse races today were something he could enjoy for a variety of reasons however, so this was not a stretch. With a glass of lemonade in his hand, wishing it were something stronger, Beckett had picked through the crowd so far to see who would amuse him the most. It was a crude game to play, but the only way to play it.

He settled on letting a sister push him toward Miss Lestrange. She looked a little distracted and perhaps put off, but Becks sauntered up and took a seat anyway, offering her a spare glass of lemonade. "I hate to disappoint," he chuckled in response. She had laughed, so he wasn't going to take it too personally. "Shall I leave the seat open?" If she were waiting on someone he wouldn't be a waste of time for either of them.

---

  

---

“Good god no,” she said quickly and rather emphatically, glancing over at where, thankfully the gentleman she had hoped to avoid seemed to be pretending he had always meant to approach another woman entirely. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked Mr Longbottom squarely in the eye – there was little use in demurring now she had been so obvious and she had never seen anything in his manner to suggest he would make a fuss.

“My apologies for being so brazen,” she took the glass and drank quickly, as though to prove she really did appreciate the gesture. “But you know how pushy aunts can be,” she nodded discreetly towards the gentleman she had wished to avoid and assumed he would get the message.

  

---

Bee is tremendous, isn't she?

It took little intellect to discern that Miss Lestrange had been hoping to avoid someone, and as he followed her eyes, he assumed it was the twat chatting with another eligible young lady not too far away. Well, if all he was good for was a decoy, he could happily play along. "I have several married sisters, all of whom have too much of a vested interest in my success this season, I can heartily understand." Pushy aunts, involved sisters, it was all similar. Those who had already done the marriage thing successfully (or so he assumed) always thought they knew best just how this was supposed to go. Beckett still wasn't convinced, but he wasn't dumb enough to say as much to his family.

"And as such, am happy to keep the seat." He sipped at his lemonade more slowly, wondering if he ought to start sneaking a flask into these things. "Dare I ask about who is not taking my seat?" Because now if anyone tried to take it, he was going to have to make a fuss and he should at least know why.

---

  

---

Gretchen smiled at him in gratitude, glancing over once more at the corpulent, elderly – he must be fifty at least! – so-called gentleman she had nearly been stuck with, and then back at the vision of vigour and beauty that was Beckett Longbottom. She remembered then, with a small jolt, that he was Freddie’s cousin. Which perhaps explained why his features were so very appealing – but then again, compared to what she had just escaped, anyone would be handsome.

“I’d rather not think about him,” she said candidly, glancing at the starting line where the horses were being wrangled into their starting gates, some of them resisting as best they could, but eventually giving in.

“It always makes me sad to see them pushed into those things. They look like cages, do they not?” Gretchen asked, eying a grey mare who trotted into her spot obediently. Well, there was always one girl who did as she was told, wasn’t there?

  

---

Bee is tremendous, isn't she?