Page 608

The fellow with the starting gun was replaced—hopefully by a man who wasn’t also in the pockets of the blacklegs. A new seriousness filled the air, as everyone sensed the next firing of the gun could see the race well and truly started.
Hannibal was ready to run, and so was Gemma. Even from here, Rake could see as much.
All they’d been working toward came down to this moment.
The gun fired, and the horses lurched into motion.
The crowd held its collective breath.
No second firing of the gun…
The crowd roared.
The race was on.
Dido and Filthy Habit stretched out to an early lead, with Little Wicked and Bloody Hell half a length behind. Gemma and Hannibal were well in the back, not even contenders.
Rake’s jaw clenched, his heart an unsteady gallop in his chest.
Anticipation exploded into exhilaration as he watched her begin to overtake one horse, then another, allowing Hannibal to stretch fully into his stride, his action free and smooth and so deceptively fast on the flat. Aggressively and methodically, Gemma worked them through the field, without crop or spur, employing, instead, strategy and skill and the complete trust Hannibal had in her.
A trust shared by Rake.
Now in the lead by a full length over Filthy Habit, Dido’s speed was lightning. The Ring hadn’t gotten it right in trying to rattle her. Working and muscling through the scrum of other horses and riders, Gemma would have a hell of a time catching up to her.
Yet, still, she came on.
“Did you instruct Deeds to give Dido the crop and spur?” Rake called over to Artemis.
She gave her head a tight shake. “No.”
Dido wouldn’t be accustomed to such treatment, as she’d never experienced it at Somerton. It wasn’t necessary for Deeds to push her so hard, so soon in the race. After one furlong, she’d extended her lead over the field by two lengths. The early success only had her jockey using his crop more. Artemis went quiet, her mouth pinched as she watched, her knuckles white around the reins of her chestnut hunter.
And still Hannibal came on. He was a brawler, that horse. Unafraid and bold in his pursuit of Dido. He’d now pulled abreast of Filthy Habit, whose jockey was attempting to crowd Gemma and Hannibal off the straight line. It was a common practice, but Rake could hardly bear to watch. Gemma was slight of frame, but determined and wily. Hannibal, however, had the bigger body of the two horses and wasn’t ceding any ground as they finished the second furlong and galloped into the fast downhill section of the race toward The Dip.
Dido only gained speed and created more space between herself and the other horses, the outcome of this race already a foregone conclusion. Hannibal had overtaken the rest of the field, but he gained no ground on Dido, who was a good four lengths ahead, her pace blistering—and hard won, as her jockey kept at the crop and spur.
They bottomed at The Dip and were now galloping uphill for the final furlong.
Of a sudden, Hannibal began to gain ground on Dido. At first, Rake thought his eyes were deceiving him, but no, he and Gemma were, indeed, pulling farther away from the rest of the field and closing in on Dido.
“Rake,” said Artemis, a slight tremor in her voice.
It wasn’t so much that Hannibal was gaining ground on Dido, but rather that she was losing it…quickly. Not knowing what else to do, her jockey employed crop and spur. But to no avail. Dido was dropping speed at an alarming rate.
Three-quarters of a furlong to the finish, Hannibal streaked past Dido and took the lead.
Without a word, Artemis gave a few clicks, urging her hunter into a sudden gallop, and she was off.
Rake followed in fast pursuit. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good. Artemis wouldn’t be facing it alone.
Dido stumbled, and the rest of the field galloped past her as she collapsed to the turf, throwing her jockey, who was experienced enough to jump clear before he found himself between a fallen horse and the unforgiving ground.
Within seconds, Artemis was at the fence, dismounted, and running on the track. As Rake jumped from his horse, a roar went up from the crowd, and he caught the finish of the race. Gemma and Hannibal were across the line, the winners.
But now wasn’t the time for celebration.
He hopped the course fence and was running on the track, in pursuit of Artemis. This wouldn’t be good. Horses collapsed during and after races all the time, a tragic fact of the sport. The cause was usually related to the heart.