“Bravo!” Lisa yelled, jumping up and clapping her hands as the phaeton she rode in left the open path and was first to the agreed-upon finishing line. They had won the race. Well, Charles had, she acknowledged with a laugh. She had just been lucky enough to ride along for the race, Lisa supposed, and turned to grin down at the man at the reins.

Findlay chuckled at her enthusiasm, but switched the reins to one hand and raised his other to catch her arm and steady her. “While I am happy you are happy, Miss Madison, you should really sit down. I would not want you to catapult out of the carriage when we slow down.”

“Call me Lisa,” she said on a laugh, dropping back to sit beside him. She then hugged him excitedly. “You showed Pembroke, Lord Findlay. Beat him by at least three carriage lengths. Well done, my lord!”

“Call me Charles,” he murmured by her ear, his arm slipping around her waist to prolong what she’d intended to be a quick congratulatory hug.

Lisa hesitated, very aware that they were now on a much more secluded path leading through the woods. She eased back and smiled up at him crookedly. “Charles, then. But we should turn back. The others will wonder where we have got to.”

She glanced over his shoulder then, wondering where Pembroke’s carriage was. He had been three lengths behind them when Charles had raced the phaeton into the trees, the end point for this race. But his phaeton was nowhere to be seen now. Actually, there was no one on the path. They were quite alone, she realized as he began to slow the phaeton.

“I will turn around at the first opportunity,” Charles assured her, removing his arm as she eased from his embrace to sit beside him more properly. “There is a small turnaround ahead on the right that we can use.”

Lisa nodded, trying not to look nervous. Surely Findlay wasn’t the suitor. He was far too handsome and refined to need to kidnap young women. Besides, even if he was, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to simply ride off with her now. Everyone would know he had taken her. Bet, Lord Pembroke, Lord Tibald and two other gentlemen all knew where she was, or at least who she was with.

“Here we are,” Charles murmured, distracting her from her thoughts and she glanced around to see that he was turning them into a small roundabout in a clearing.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Lisa cried, her gaze sliding over the small field of purple flowers bordering the roundabout.

“Yes, it is,” he agreed, slowing to a halt halfway around.

“What kind of flowers do you think they are?” she asked leaning to the side to get a better look.