“What’s that you say?” asked the Frenchman. Wilton eased her car through the traffic. For a second he felt such a wave of hatred he nearly hurled it in Rupert’s face. “Where’s Fen?” asked Dizzy.
Hilary had spent so much time putting the boot in that she had imagined some devil would roll up. The press were so captivated by the news that they concentrated on the engagement rather than on the fight. Kev kept looking at her, holding her eyes a second longer than necessary, as though he was caressing her. Hans Schmidt jumped clear on his new horse, Papa Haydn, and in the jump-off was a tenth of a second faster than Fen.
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