“Do you train a lot of racehorses here?” Sándor asked eagerly.
“A great many, young Master,” the groom replied, “and ’Is Grace is runnin’ two of ’em at Cheltenham Races this week. We’re a-hopin’ one will win the Steeplechase Cup.”
‘The Cheltenham Races,’ Tamara thought to herself.
So that was where the Duke had been these past days and there was perhaps some excuse for his leaving the problem of the children until after the Race Meeting.
At the same time he might, she thought, have sent them a message to inform them why he was so busy.
“How do you train the horses?” Sándor was asking Abbey.
The old groom chuckled.
“I’ll show you, young sir.”
He took them the whole length of the stables to where at the far end they saw in an open field a miniature Racecourse.
Tamara remembered that
