Lady Vivian’s expression softened slightly.
Of course, Dorian had meant every word. There would be no debate with his wife about how Tempest was to be treated. She wanted what she wanted, and that was final, and he was more than happy to give her that.
“Of course she is,” Lady Vivian said.
Dorian did not respond.
The silence between them stretched until it was broken by movement near the starting grounds, where a sudden shift in Tempest’s behavior rippled outward into immediate disorder.
“Hold him—don’t crowd him, back away!” a stablehand shouted. “He was fine a moment ago. Something’s set him off again.”
Within seconds, the controlled preparation collapsed into urgency as Tempest struck the ground and resisted every attempt to steady him. Voices overlapped in confusion as they tried to assist the stablehand.
“Keep the reins loose. You’re making it worse.”
“We’re going to lose him before the start if this continues.”
Dorian stepped forward immediately, his voice cutting through the noise. “Clear the space. Give him room.”
A handler approached him, his face white. “Your Grace, he’s not responding to anything.”
“Then stop forcing him into it. He will steady himself as long as you—where is she?”
The crowd beyond the barrier reacted instantly, whispers breaking out in waves.
“That’s Ashford’s horse.”
“He’s not fit to run again.”
“After the collapse, this was always going to happen.”
Dorian watched as the investors shifted their attention sharply, their confidence visibly thinning as speculation spread faster than control could be regained.
Lady Vivian observed quietly from just behind him, and he wondered briefly why she was there at all rather than with the other spectators.
“This is going to damage your reputation before the race even begins,” she muttered.
He did not acknowledge her.
Anne arrived moments later, and one of the trainers called out for her to stay back, as it was dangerous. But she ignored him, moving forward until she was directly in front of Tempest.
“Anne, do not go near him yet,” Dorian called out, but she also ignored him.
She stepped closer without hesitation and placed her hand against Tempest’s neck, speaking to him in a hushed tone. The horse faltered mid-strike, his breathing slowing as she reassured him over and over.
“That’s it. You’re safe now. Stay with me.”
“He’s stopping,” a trainer whispered in disbelief. “Why would he not listen to us but listen to her?”
Even the investors went quiet as the change happened before their eyes.
“That is not a training response,” Lady Vivian said in a low voice.
Dorian did not look at her because his attention had already locked onto Anne and the horse, and the fact that Tempest, who had resisted everyone else moments before, now stood still under her hand as though nothing else in the world could reach him.
“She is the only person who can make him remember his training,” he explained. “Because she is the only thing he trusts when everything else fails.”
The race began with a tension that carried even before the gates opened, the kind of silence that settled over the track not because the crowd was quiet, but because every sound felt suspended in anticipation.
