Chapter 13 #2
She wanted Liam to win, yes, but, more, she wanted him to be safe. She wanted to share more conversations with him. More kisses, too, if she were being honest.
Funny how such moments provoked honesty with oneself.
Lady Midnight, meanwhile, hung at the back of the lead pack.
Saskia didn’t know much about horse racing, but even she could see that Lady Midnight wasn’t a great starter.
But what she lacked at the start, she was making up for in the middle as they blazed toward Tattenham Corner.
She had heart, Celia’s horse. It was difficult not to cheer for her, but Saskia found she wasn’t.
It was another horse, in her heart of hearts, that she wanted to win.
One of the best things about watching a race from Prinny’s Stand was that it enjoyed a close, unimpeded view of the infamous Tattenham Corner with its sharp left turn that formed the bottom of the racecourse’s U.
This turn had felled many a horse and rider over the years.
In fact, Saskia couldn’t remember having attended a single Derby where several horses didn’t get tangled up and tumble to the turf, all the day’s hopes and dreams gone to dust in an instant—and this Derby was no different.
Yet, somehow, Morningstar and Lady Midnight came through the chaotic fray with their legs still thundering beneath them for the final half mile.
Here, in the downhill, was where the horses who had stamina picked up speed and showed what they were made of.
And it was Morningstar in the lead, but only by half a length as Lady Midnight stayed right with him.
These two horses had met their match in each other.
Saskia wasn’t sure when it had happened, but she’d come to her feet. Everyone else had, too, as the horses entered the final hundred-yard uphill stretch to the finish, neck and neck now as Lady Midnight closed on Morningstar’s half-length lead.
Two blinks of the eye later, the horses were across the finish line.
From several hundred yards away, however, it was impossible to tell who finished victorious.
The roar of the crowd diminished in volume as all awaited the announcement of the winner.
Saskia’s hands clenched into tight, nervous fists, her heart battering away at her ribs, she waited for the longest three seconds of her life.
At last, a strident voice cut through the din. “It’s Morningstar by a nose!”
Instantaneously, the crowd burst to life. Bright, startling jubilation took wing inside Saskia, which she instantly tamped down. As she offered Celia consolatory hug, she felt like a little traitor. Lady Midnight was Celia’s horse, and second by a nose was a tough loss.
Eloise took her cousin’s hand. “But, Celia, my dear, the universe has to balance itself out.”
Her cheeks flushed and her eyes overbright, Celia’s blood was clearly up as she asked hotly, “What on earth do you mean, cousin?”
Eloise remained her ever unbothered self. “Simply, you cannot win at everything. It wouldn’t be fair to us mere mortals. You’re a beauty of great renown. You’re married to possibly the most handsome duke in all of Christendom, who also happens to be one of the wealthiest.”
“I hardly see how those factors play into a horse race.” Celia was resisting Eloise’s soothing.
“You have two beautiful, healthy children,” Eloise went on, unperturbed. “Your stud has gained a reputation as one of the best in England.”
“All right, cousin,” said Celia, finally giving over with an exasperated laugh. “You’ve made your point.”
Viveca, who had been following the exchange, chimed in. “Actually, it makes the case for the existence of the Greek gods, as their system of governance very much played by those rules. Everyone must be properly humbled every so often.”
“Or quite often,” agreed Saskia, unable to resist. She and Viveca could make a wholly unassailable argument when they put their minds together. Besides, she thought Viveca was onto something with this line of reasoning. “The Greek gods tended to be rather enthusiastic with their humblings.”
Eloise clapped her hands together with a delighted laugh; Gabriel rolled his eyes; and Blaze bussed an approving kiss onto his wife’s cheek.
Viveca reached out and grabbed Saskia’s hand. “Come, sister, let’s congratulate our future bestselling author.”
Before Saskia could open her mouth to protest, she was swept into the flow of the hordes of spectators all streaming in the same direction—toward the racecourse.
And though it was a raucous, jubilant crowd they navigated, the saving grace was that their group consisted of a duke, a duchess, their family, England’s preeminent barrister, his popular wife, and the one-and-only Blaze Jagger, so the crowd parted for them like the Red Sea.
Then Saskia, along with thousands of her fellow Londoners, was on the trodden turf of the track, once pristine grass churned into brown clumps from thundering horse hooves.
Each of her senses felt incredibly alive—the earthy, juniper-and-thyme scented turf…
the enlivening roar of the crowd…the light breeze lifting the hairs at the back of her neck—as if she were both at one with all around her and so deeply inside herself that she could feel the individual cells of her being.