Richard mentally compared the list Holland had given him.
Alexander Montague, Eton, a heavy favorite to win.
The Montague family were close to the royal family and had considerable connections in both houses of Parliament.
"Is that the one with the blond hair?" Palmer leaned over from behind and asked quietly.
"Yeah."
"He really is a handsome young gentleman," he remarked, then added:
"Nice hair. No idea how good his Latin is, though."
On the other side of the square, a group of students in Cheltenham's dark green uniforms were gathering.
A red-haired girl stood at the side of the group, not chatting with anyone. Her hands were clasped behind her back as she scanned the surroundings.
Her chin was slightly raised, and her features had the rugged structure typical of a Highlander.
The girl had a strong jawline, lacking the traditional feminine softness, which made her very distinctive.
The Harrow School team arrived last.
Their carriage had practically arrived at the deadline for registration.
When Phillips stepped out of the carriage, he was still holding a cup of tea. He calmly finished the last sip before handing the cup to his attendant.
He wore Harrow's dark blue uniform, its gold buttons gleaming in the sunlight.
He walked with the same unhurried ease with which he drank his tea, almost languidly.
Besides the few names on the list, dozens of other contestants had come to the square from top schools across the Empire.
Their uniforms came in every shade, their school crests were all different, and their accents varied widely.
Some had thick northern accents, some had colonial inflections, and a few unconsciously mixed Greek words into their speech.
Most of the contestants were silently preparing for the event.
Some leaned against stone pillars, flipping through shorthand notebooks; others moved