“Now what is your answer to that? Can we find a woman in France to rival her Ladyship even if your horse can rival the Duc’s?”
“Why do we not have a women’s race?” the Comte asked. “I have a chére amie who is an outstanding rider. Let me put her on my Arab and race the beautiful Lady Melford on yours.”
Now the applause at the idea was almost deafening and Karla looked anxiously at Penelope.
Would she really undertake such a challenge?
She knew that her sister was a very good rider and it would be impossible, as her father’s daughter, for her not to be.
Equally, she had never ridden the difficult, rough, untrained horses that she and Richard had to contend with daily.
Then she told herself that the Duc’s horse, even if it had just arrived, would be well-trained and Penelope would b
