Royal - Danielle Steel Page 0,96

watched intensely as the horse took off, slowly and steadily at first and then stronger and stronger, as none of them dared to breathe or speak. Then with a powerful surge, driven forward by the jockey, their horse shot ahead gathering incredible speed, and finished four lengths ahead of the horse behind him. Everyone in the royal box gave a scream. Victoria and Annie were jumping up and down. The queen hugged Lord Hatton, Jonathan pumped his hand to congratulate him, and Anthony grabbed Annie and held her and they smiled at each other. The horse had won, at twenty-to-one odds. They all went to congratulate the jockey, who was covered in mud and wreathed in smiles. The queen hugged him and had mud on her face afterward and they all laughed. Her sons had come down from school for it, and there was jubilation in the royal box. The purse was a good one, and they had all bet on him.

Annie’s eyes were alight afterward and Lord Hatton laughed at her. “You can taste it, can’t you?” He could see how badly she wanted to be a jockey and win a race. “One day. It will happen,” he assured her.

“I’ll be an old woman by then,” she said, looking discouraged.

“You’re still a baby, you have time,” Anthony’s father said. She saw Anthony look unhappy and he said something afterward, when he gave her a ride to the restaurant. The queen had invited them all to dinner to celebrate.

“You still want to race as badly as that?” Anthony asked her, worried. He had heard the exchange with her father and saw the look on her face.

“Yes, if I could. But I don’t think they’ll ever let women race here in my lifetime.”

“And if they do?”

“I’d like to try it,” she said softly. It wasn’t worth arguing about, since it wasn’t a possibility.

“What if we’re married and have children by then?” he asked pointedly.

“I suppose it would be too late then. Please don’t worry about it. It’s not happening.”

“But it could, and you could break your neck out there.” He looked anxious and upset. He was willing to think about settling down now. She wasn’t. Racing was in her blood. She wanted that more than any man. He could see it in her eyes every time the subject came up.

“Thompson didn’t break his neck today,” she said quietly.

“He’s been doing it for years, and one day he might. I don’t want my wife and the mother of my children dead on a racetrack,” he said, looking angry. But more than angry, he was afraid for her.

“It’s been my dream all my life,” she said quietly. “If I had the chance I’d do it.” She was always honest with him. “But I don’t have the chance.”

“I hope it stays that way.” He didn’t speak again until they got to the restaurant and then he relaxed, and she noticed the queen watching them once or twice, and wondered if she suspected anything. But she had no reason to object. She’d known Anthony all his life, and there was nothing she could object to. His father was a lord, he was well educated, well brought up, and a gentleman. She might object to their having an affair, but they were both single, and it was 1967, not 1910. And thanks to Anthony and his friend in New York, she was on the pill, so she wasn’t going to get pregnant and cause a scandal with a child out of wedlock. And they intended to get married. Someday. Although neither of them was in a rush. They had everything they wanted now. The queen didn’t ask any questions, or comment, nor did Victoria, who was there that night too.

In May, on Annie’s birthday, Anthony took her to dinner at Harry’s Bar, and dancing at Annabel’s afterward, since he was a member of both clubs. They ran into Victoria, who arrived at Annabel’s shortly after they did, with a married American she’d been dating less than discreetly, which the queen wasn’t pleased about. Victoria took one look at them, and could see what had happened. She sent over a bottle of champagne after wishing Annie a happy birthday, and in return, they toasted her and her handsome friend. He was a well-known actor, married to a movie star, and wanted to divorce his wife for Victoria. It had been all over the tabloids.

By coincidence, they left the club at the same time, and