Duchess for a Day by Nan Ryan

Author:Nan Ryan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty

“They’re off!”

The much anticipated Saratoga racing season had officially begun. It was exactly 11:30 a.m.

At five minutes to post time, a red-jacketed gentlemen had stepped onto the racetrack directly in front of the finish line, lifted a gleaming gold-plated bugle to his lips and sounded the familiar call to the starting gate.

Thirteen sleek Thoroughbreds had moved, one by one, into the gate. As soon as the last Thoroughbred had been boxed, a pistol was shot into the air and the starting flag dropped. The full field broke from the gate and onto the oval track.

The crowd of five thousand spectators came to their feet and began to cheer wildly in the beautiful slate-roofed grandstand. A second floor stairway led up to the clubhouse where a balcony ended in the Queen Anne circle with a bright lawn running down to the track. It was here that the well-heeled turf set gathered to watch the races.

In a private box on the finish line in the Queen Anne circle, Hank Cassidy was up out of his chair. With him in the box was a radiant Claire. She, too, was on her feet and cheering madly for Red Eye Gravy, the big bay stallion sporting bright green-and-white silks, Hank’s official racing colors. Red Eye Gravy was rounding the first turn, sixth behind the leaders.

Whistling and applauding, Hank leaned down and said in Claire’s ear, “Don’t worry. He’s in a good position, right where he should be.”

“You sure? Looks like the others are pulling away from him.”

“They’ll burn out and then we’ll take ’em after the turn. You’ll see!”

Eyes focused across the oval track to the sprinting Thoroughbreds, Claire followed the flash of green and white and nodded, hoping Hank was right.

“Look, sweetheart,” Hank said as the field raced into the far turn and Red Eye Gravy began to make his move. The big bay passed a couple of contenders, moving swiftly up on the outside.

Now there were only two horses ahead of him.

Claire’s hands went to her cheeks when the daring jockey riding Red Eye Gravy edged the big mount up between the two front runners as they raced down the front stretch in a fight for final position.

For the next few thrilling seconds the three Thoroughbreds raced neck and neck, so close together there was not enough room between them to slide a sheet of tissue paper. The screams from the crowd were deafening. Hank was whistling and beating on the rail of the box with his rolled-up copy of the day’s racing program.

Just when it looked like the race would end in a three-way dead heat, Red Eye Gravy slipped between the other two as if his big body was greased. He surged ahead and thundered across the finish line, first by a nose.

Laughing, happy, Hank grabbed Claire up in his arms, swung her around and declared, “We won, baby, we won!”

“I know, I can’t believe it!” Claire said, eagerly embracing him. When he set her back on her feet, she said, “Hank, that was so exciting, I’m actually breathless.

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