“Rus has gone to England-to Newmarket-with the Cromarty racing string.” She licked her suddenly dry lips and looked again at the pages in her hand. “He says…” She paused to steady her voice. “He says he thinks Harkness, the head stableman, is planning to run some racket that somehow revolves about horse breeding while in Newmarket. He overheard Harkness explaining to the head lad-Rus says he’s a villainous sort-about how the illicit undertaking worked, and that it involves some register. He, Rus, didn’t hear enough to understand the scheme, but he thinks the register Harkness was referring to is the register of all horses entitled by their breeding to race on English tracks.”

She flipped over a page, scanned, then reported, “Rus says he knows nothing of the details in the register, but if he’s ever going to become a breeder of race horses, he should obviously learn more about it regardless, and he’ll be able to follow it up as that register is kept at the Jockey Club in Newmarket.”

She turned the last page, then made a disgusted sound. “The rest is full of platitudes assuring me he’ll be safe, that it’ll all be perfectly fine, that even if there is anything wrong, all he has to do is tell Lord Cromarty, and it’ll all be right as rain, don’t worry…and then he signs himself ‘your loving brother off on an adventure’!”

Tossing the letter on the desk, she faced Eugenia and Adelaide. “I’ll have to go to Newmarket.”

Adelaide’s chin firmed. “We’ll go to Newmarket-you can’t go alone.”

Pris sent her a fleeting smile, then looked at Eugenia.

Her aunt studied her, then nodded, and calmly folded her tatting. “Indeed, dear. I see no alternative. Much as I love Rus, we cannot leave him to deal with what ever this is alone, and if there is some illicit scheme being hatched, you cannot, to my mind, risk even a letter to warn him, in case it falls into the wrong hands. You will need to speak with him. So!”