Though he released her hand, Lady Croft stood, stupefied, gazing at his face. Juliette cleared her throat, and the woman jumped, as if pulled back to the present.

“Oh yes.” She patted her hair and shuffled through some papers. “Since you are new to the club, Lady Juliette, we thought we would start you off in the novice class.”

“I see.” Novice class. Juliette hadn’t competed at that beginner rank in years. Still, it would hurt nothing but her pride—and that only if she allowed it. She would do as she was asked, especially since she was indeed a newcomer. “Thank you. Could you direct me to the portion of the grounds where the novices are gathered?”

“Of course. Or I could show you both?” The secretary addressed her comment to Heinrich.

“I am afraid Viscount Coatsworth and I are expected in the Royal enclosure.” He turned to Juliette. “I will be cheering you from the stands. When you win your class, I shall treat you to refreshments to celebrate.” He bowed and took the woolgathering viscount away with him.

The secretary watched until he disappeared into the crowd. A sigh worked its way out of her mouth. “He’s as nice as he is handsome. I hear he’s been invited to just everything this Season. I’ve seen him across the ballroom, of course, but I’ve never managed an introduction until now.”

It occurred to Juliette that she should be jealous of the attention another woman paid Heinrich, but she was merely amused. And in any case, Lady Croft’s assessment was correct. He was as nice as he was handsome.

A contingent of soldiers, resplendent in red coats and brass buttons, marched in perfect alignment, announcing the arrival of the Prince Regent. His carriage gleamed in the sunshine, the glossy horses beautiful with their postilion riders. They drove to the entry to the Royal enclosure, and the soldiers formed two lines, pushing the protestors back.

When the prince was assisted from his carriage with the help of two liveried servants, the shouts of the protestors drowned out any applause that might have occurred.

“He seems to have put on a stone or two every time I see him,” Lady Croft said. “Soon they’ll have to haul him about with draft horses. Cruikshank’s latest depiction of him seems less a caricature and more of a portrait than ever.”

Juliette’s fingers tightened around the handle of her bow case. She didn’t find the Cruikshank’s depictions of the royal family humorous. They were cruel and biting indictments that set out to humiliate through magnifying perceived weaknesses. She had never met the prince, and she was aware he had some serious shortcomings, but he was still the nation’s ruler, and some deference should be shown, shouldn’t it?