“I’m sorry Tory’s not here,” he said with a smile, ‘but she’s the one person I know who doesn’t need to hear any of this. “I’m not going to hire a morning coat,” snapped Rupert, when at last he and Helen were alone in their bedroom, ‘nor am I going to be blessed by some Yankee poofter. “Where are you going?” he said, not turning around. Horses love it, so do hounds, so do the people doing it.
“Well, almost,” said Rupert. “At least 300 calories. A large crowd had gathered to watch the riders in their black and scarlet coats saddling up, supervising the unboxing of their horses and grumbling about their hangovers. Shall we go?” he turned to Helen.
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