The Rake

Lady Georgiana Halley watched Dare enter the ballroom and wondered why the soles of his boots didn’t smoke, he was so well traveled on the path to Hell.

By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
—Macbeth, Act IV, Scene i

the mare’s mane whipping up into her face and tangling dark hair with her golden curls. “I’ll race you to the bridge and back,” she said breathlessly.
“I’ll win.”
“Maybe.” With a snap of her reins, she sent Sheba into a dead run.
Racing was forbid