toward his carriage. She knew they started near sunrise, which left her only a minute or two to get up into the carriage and take the reins.
“Come along, men. We have a race to run!” Stanton shouted out. “Last man to The Cocks buys the ale!”
Emma picked her skirts up to her knees and ran to Ainsley’s carriage. She was determined to get the horses moving before he returned with her handkerchief. How she wished she could wear trousers like the gentlemen. It would make this process so much easier. She pulled herself up into the driver’s position before stealing a glance back.
Ainsley was running toward the curricle and shouting to another man.
She grabbed the reins and then flicked horses to a start. As they turned a tight corner, she felt sure she might topple over. This was so much different than two times their groom had let her drive slowly through the country lanes of Cornwall. Those horses were old and slow. Ainsley’s horses must have been bred to race.
Her heart pounded as she tried to keep the curricle at a manageable speed. The curricle only had two wheels, making her feel as if it would tumble over with every turn. She bounced on the padded bench stifling a curse. She would be bruised tomorrow.
“Focus,” she said aloud. These horses required every bit of her attention and strength.
“Miss Drake! Stop!”
Hearing Simon’s voice, she urged the horses faster. That blasted man ruined every one of her plans.
As she pulled out in front of the other men, she realized a fatal flaw in her plan. She had no idea where they raced. Where the bloody hell was The Cocks? Having no other choice, she continued north, hoping that they headed toward St. Albans as it was the most logical choice of destination based on this location. Not too far from London but with good roads.
The horses kicked up dust, causing her to cough as she fought to control them. Susan’s words reverberated in her mind. “You will surely die in a driving a carriage.”
“No!” Emma knew she could do this.
“Miss Drake, slow down before you have an accident.”
She glanced back quickly, terrified to let her attention wander. But it only took a quick look to see both Ainsley and Simon in the same carriage behind her. The wind whipped her bonnet off her head and caused her hair to come down from its chignon.
She attempted to blow the hair out of her eyes, but it was no use. Holding the reins in her right hand, she yanked her bonnet back over her head. She’d had to slow down as she reached for her bonnet. Drat! She returned her focus to the road and prayed no unexpected turns were coming up soon.
As the miles went past, her confidence increased. Even rounding the corners wasn’t terribly difficult once she figured out how much to decrease the horses' speed without causing the carriage to jolt. When she completed the race, she must remember to compliment Ainsley on his horses. The matched bays were eager to run, so she let them.
But as she turned a steeper curve, she noticed a carriage ahead, forcing her to slow her pace down to a canter. Unsure if she should try to pass the slower vehicle, she hesitated until Simon’s curricle pulled up beside her.
“Move over, Emma,” Simon demanded as his black hair blew into his eyes. He brushed the locks back in place and then slid over closer to her carriage.
He stood slowly, holding the seat for support, and then grabbed for the hood. His weight tilted the seat, knocking her off balance. Without thinking, she let go of the reins with one hand to steady herself. As she did, Simon swung his body into the curricle and grabbed the reins. He slowed the horses as Emma clung to her seat. Simon followed behind Ainsley as he drove around the slow carriage.
Emma attempted to tuck herself into the corner of the seat as far away from the angry man as possible. His lips pressed into a tight line as he clenched his jaw. Why didn’t Ainsley rescue her? The earl would have been much more pleasant than Simon. Ainsley would have asked if she were well. Not Simon. He’d scarcely ventured a glance at her since he jumped into the carriage.
Noticing the other men were increasing their distance from Simon, she commented, “You might wish to go a little faster, or you’ll lose for certain.”
He glared over at