The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the vibrant green expanse of the racetrack. The air crackled with anticipation as the crowd buzzed excitedly, their voices blending into a collective hum. It was the day of the anticipated horse race of the month, a spectacle that had drawn spectators from far and wide.
The thoroughbreds, muscles rippling beneath sleek coats, pranced restlessly in the paddock, their breath visible in the cool air. Jockeys clad in bright silks tightened their grips on the reins, exchanging last-minute words of encouragement with their powerful steeds. The tension was palpable, a living entity that hung in the air and settled like a heavy cloak over the racecourse.
Though Susan believed in Edmund, sometimes things don't go the way we want them to, which was why her eyes didn't leave the man's side as she prayed for him to make it out alive with his poor choice of horse.
As the starting gate clanged open, a thunderous roar erupted from the crowd, and the horses exploded forward, a surge of raw power and speed. The ground vibrated with the rhythmic thunder of hooves, a symphony of primal energy that echoed through the hearts of spectators.
At the forefront, two stallions emerged as frontrunners, neck and neck. Their jockeys crouched low, bodies melding with the wind as they sliced through the air. One belonged to Viscount William and the other to a young man Susan couldn't give a flying fig about.
Susan held her breath, eyes fixed on a particular racer whose position was second to last in the field. Edmund.
The intensity in the eyes of the racers mirrored the enthusiasm of the spectators, who were now on their feet, their voices a cacophony of cheers and gasps. The track seemed to shrink beneath the pounding hooves, the race unfolding in a blur of colour and motion. Dust kicked up in a wild dance behind the speeding horses, creating a haze that added to the sense of unreality. The horses, driven by a primal instinct to conquer, strained against the reins, their nostrils flaring with exertion.
As they rounded the final turn, the intensity reached its peak. The jockeys, faces contorted with determination, urged their mounts to give their all. The air crackled with whipping wind and pounding hooves, drowning out all other noise.
And then, as the cheers reverberated through the air, Edmund, astride his sleek mare, suddenly surged ahead with a burst of speed that left the crowd breathless. His incredible speed brought him to the front, where it was just him and William, who was surprised by the turn of events.
As the race reached its climax, it became clear that it was a battle of not just speed but strategy. Edmund and William jockeyed for position, strategically using the momentum of their horses to gain an advantage. The crowd roared with excitement. Their cheers pushed the two to new heights.
In the final stretch, the intensity reached its peak. Edmund and William, neck and neck, pushed their horses to their limits. The pounding hooves created a rhythmic beat that mirrored the pounding hearts of the spectators.
In a breathtaking photo finish, Edmund's steed lunged forward, crossing the finish line by the slimmest of margins. The crowd erupted into cheers, celebrating the hard-fought victory. Edmund, a mix of exhilaration and exhaustion, raised his riding crop in triumph, and in turn, the crowd tripled their cheering by chanting his name.
Susan laughed and cheered. Fun her foot. The man had it all planned out. He was there for the win because there was no way he would have let any of those men win the race, especially William.
She could see the proud smile etched on his face as people congratulated him. As if sensing her gaze, he turned around and smirked at her in an 'I told you so' manner.
She was about to walk away from the crowd when William walked towards her with a look of disappointment, "Viscount William! I would have never guessed you were a skilled racer! That was a tough competition."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, "I used to have secret classes that was why my father never knew. Not tough enough to win. I know you must be disappointed in me for failing to keep my promise."
"Nonsense. You were fantastic out there. What more can I for?"
He eyed her suspiciously, "You are not angry that I lost to that old horse?"
"That would be so foolish of me. What matters is that you gave it your best. I am sure everyone else thinks so as well. I am still proud of you."
He tried to smile again, but it came out strained. It was obvious the man didn't know how to accept defeat, especially when it came from someone he felt threatened by. "If you don't mind, I would love to change out of this thing." He waved at his racing outfit.
"Go ahead, please. I am sure they are pretty uncomfortable."
"Yes, they are." He removed his gloves and picked up her hand to kiss. "See you later. Don't miss me too much,"
Susan smiled, "I will try."
"Alright then, off I go."
"Bye."
"Yes, bye." He walked away from there but not before glaring daggers at Edmund, who seemed happy to receive all the attention.
Turning to where Edmund was gathered by the crowd, he was already looking at her. She mouthed 'Congratulations,' and he did the same, saying 'Thank you,' When he turned his attention to one of the women surrounding him, she walked away.