Should she be worried?
All morning she’d been nervous, excited, maybe even a little frightened, but not concerned. “Aaron,” she leaned over to whisper, “is everything all right?”
He kept his head down, rechecking the girth and the squareness of the saddle. “Just be careful. You’ve never ridden in a field of six before.”
The worry she’d been avoiding flooded through her until she was very glad she hadn’t accepted Lord Trent’s offer of a sweet bun earlier. Now was not the time to be ill. She took deep breaths in through her nose, letting the scents of horse and leather, grass and dirt ground her to the moment.
She lined up Equinox at the starting pole. Though she did her best to position herself on the end because of the sidesaddle, her competitors were not interested in allowing her to do so. At least two of them were giving her unkind looks. One of them sneered as he guided his horse into place on her right.
Moments later, another horse wedged its way between her and the sneering jockey. That rider gave her a nod before facing forward and preparing to race.
At least she wasn’t entirely alone out here.
In the stillness before the gun, a moment of clarity cleared the trepidation from her middle.
She did not want to do this.
Equinox and Aaron both deserved for this run to happen, not to mention Lord Farnsworth, but she did not want to do this. As much as she loved the animals, the riding, and showing people the joy to be found on the back of a horse, she did not love racing.
At least not from this position.
It wasn’t the same, and she’d been fooling herself that it was. No one was going to see this race and know she could teach them how to high-step a mount through the park and impress their friends.
This race wasn’t for her anymore. It was for Aaron. She would not let his reputation be damaged by her inability to think things through.
Resolve in place, she firmed her grip on the reins and adjusted her hold on the whip. Her position in the middle of the field would make it difficult to use, but she didn’t want to drop it.
One race. She could do it.
The race started, and Sophia’s heart pounded in rhythm with the hooves far beneath her. The energy of the larger group of horses and the enormous crowd rippled over her skin. Sweat beaded on her face and dripped into her eyes before they’d covered the first mile.
She blinked hard and used the back of her wrist to clear the sweat from her forehead as she yelled for Equinox to run.
A jockey in green pressed in on her left. Only years of experience kept her in the saddle as a sharp sting crossed her back.
The man who’d wedged his way in and given her an encouraging nod pulled ahead, and another horse pressed in on her in his place.
Another burn slashed across her leg.
Great heavens, she was getting hit with the other riders’ whips.
She tried to maneuver Equinox, find somewhere to go, but short of pulling him up and quitting, there were no options. Her eyes searched the turmoil in front of her, looking for a hole that would allow her to press the horse forward.
Three more stings drove home that this was not an accident caused by the proximity of rushing horses.
She dropped her whip, refusing to allow herself even the temptation of lowering to their level. She regripped the reins and settled deeper into the saddle.
Time to make a way even if there wasn’t one.
Praying the horses wouldn’t tangle and fall, she steered Equinox to the right, forcing the jockey in blue to either give way or collide with her.
The jockey on her left stayed with her.
Tears were stinging her eyes as they approached the final curve. The way her legs and back were burning, she may never be able to use a whip on a horse again.
Sweat coated her palms until she feared her riding gloves might slip off. Her fingers cramped and spasmed as she gripped the reins tighter and used every method she knew to compel Equinox forward. More speed was her only hope. Even half a length would put her out of the range of those infernal whips.
They rounded the curve, rushing toward the end post. The crowd gave Equinox a burst of motivation, and he surged forward. Sophia nearly cried in relief as she urged him to go even faster.
This was no longer about racing or people’s opinions. This was survival.
When the horse crossed the finish line, she wasn’t going to pull up. They’d ride straight to the weigh house, and she wasn’t getting down until she was back at Hawksworth. Her torturers were behind her as she passed the finish post, so at least she hadn’t been last. She rather doubted she’d been first, though it didn’t matter. The race was done.
The horses from the previous race were still milling about the weigh house, but no one stopped her from moving to the front of the line. As soon as the horse’s weight was recorded, she fled the area. They weren’t running at a race pace anymore, but they were certainly going fast enough to make everyone get out of their way.
As the noise of the crowd fell away, she allowed Equinox to slow and her tears to fall. Perhaps she could get the worst of the crying out while she was alone. With any luck, the stable would be empty, with everyone still on the Heath to watch the races.
Instead of jumping from the saddle, she rolled onto her stomach and slid down the horse’s side. Her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the gravel drive. A dark sweaty muzzle bumped her face, inspiring a laugh to cut through her falling tears.
“You ran well, Equinox. You deserve a good brushing and an entire trough of oats.”
Using the horse for leverage, she managed to get to her feet and limp her way into the stable and down to the farthest box stall.
Without the excitement of the race, the pain of every single blow pulsed all the way to the bone. Her leg was certainly the worst, though she might be sleeping on her stomach for a few days.
She was struggling with the saddle buckles when Jonas arrived, riding Midas right into the stable and up to her stall before dismounting with a wince. He dropped his horse’s reins and wrapped his arms around her.
The last of her control broke. She sobbed into his chest and clung hard to his shoulders. Once the surge of emotion subsided, an eerie calm followed. She pulled away from him with a shuddering breath. Callused thumbs wiped her tears away, and she finally looked up into eyes the same green as her own.
“You didn’t win.”
She couldn’t stop the laughter. “I guessed as much. Seeing the tail of another horse for most of the race is a good indicator.”
“It looked rough.”
“It was nothing like that challenge race. Nothing like running the Heath with the others.” She sighed. “They hated me.”
“What do you mean?”
She took a step back and looked around the stable. “You can’t tell anyone, Jonas. It’s done, and chances are no one would believe it was intentional.”
“Sophia, what happened?”
“Looking back, I can think of several things I could have done differently, solutions I could have tried. It was a race, though, and all I could think was go forward, go faster. At least two of the other jockeys didn’t like me. I think a third was in on it too, but I can’t be sure.”
“Soph.”
She leaned over and pulled up her riding skirt and the trouser leg beneath. “Part of me couldn’t believe it was happening. I didn’t want to believe anyone could do this.” She tugged the fabric higher. “Having trousers beneath the skirt helped, though. Fewer layers would have made it worse.”