‘With Randolph as the dreadful black sheep,’ Neisa told herself, ‘and a very creepy one.’
Perhaps because she was thinking of him, he looked towards her and then rode up to her side.
“Are you wishing me luck?” he enquired.
“In winning the race? I feel sure that your cousin will win.”
She realised it was something she should not have said and yet the words came from her lips before she could prevent it.
Randolph laughed and it was not a pretty sound.
“Perhaps he will and perhaps he won’t, but I have the feeling that if you are backing me, I will come in first and that is what I want.”
Because it was impossible for her to go on speaking to him without being rude, Neisa turned away.
Randolph muttered something she could not hear as she walked to where Carol was talking to Sir Peter,
