by Andrea Kane
“Yeah.” The jockey snatched the money. “He’s tall, maybe a little bit shorter than you. He’s got a thin nose and light brown hair. His build is only average, not real powerful or anything. But he’s scary looking—it’s something in his eyes. They’re like chips of ice. Blue ice. Also, it’s the way he moves. Like a cat about to spring for its supper.”
“How was he dressed?”
A shrug. “Same as me. Only not in racing colors. He looked like a regular stable hand. He’s not a blue blood, if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s what I mean.” Dustin searched Alberts’s face, then flung him away. “I’m going to make sure no one is about who might ask questions. When I announce that it’s safe, I want you to get out and walk away. Don’t repeat this conversation to anyone and don’t show your face in England until September. Now, do you understand?”
Nervously, Alberts nodded.
“Good.” Dustin eased from the carriage and stretched, glancing idly about. Other than Lanston, who was chatting a short distance away with several other owners, the area was clear. Dustin leaned into the carriage, muttering, “On your way, Alberts.”
The wiry man was out and gone in a flash.
“Did things go to your liking, my lord?” Saxon inquired, strolling around from the other side of the carriage.
“Yes. Finally, I learned something I didn’t already know.” Dustin’s eyes narrowed. “But before I divulge the details, how the hell did you know who Alberts was, much less that I wanted to detain him?”
Saxon’s lips curved. “Unearthing information is what you pay me to do, sir. While you’ve been probing for clues, I’ve been listening outside the stands. One of the benefits of being a driver is that in the eyes of the aristocracy you’re invisible. Two of the Jockey Club Stewards wandered by me, engaged in conversation. When I heard your name mentioned, my ears perked up. They were discussing Alberts and his failing career. One of them brought up the fact that you’d dismissed him. I found myself wondering if he could be one of the jockeys you intended to interrogate. An hour later, Parker—who I believe was the first rider I saw you question and who, incidentally, was the pathetic lad who’d intended to throw a race and share the profits with Alberts—waylaid a man as he arrived at Newmarket. He called the fellow Alberts, informed him that their ‘arrangement’ was off, and suggested that he leave, given that you were grilling those you suspected of throwing races. As luck would have it, you were, at that moment, making your way from the course. I saw you. So did Parker and Alberts. Parker darted off. Alberts prepared to flee. I couldn’t allow that to happen. So, at the right instant, I modified his plans. It was simply a matter of timing.”
Dustin shook his head in amazement. “Your uncle was right. You are extraordinary.”
“Just doing my job, sir. But, thank you.” Saxon inclined his head. “I assume you were on your way to advise me that we’ll be leaving Newmarket?”
“Definitely. I have one stop to make in Suffolk. Then, it’s home to Surrey.”
“Dustin?” Lanston strolled over, a perplexed look on his face. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, why?”
“I saw Alberts leap from your carriage and bolt. I thought perhaps you’d had words.”
“We did.”
“About last fall?”
“About the differences that prompted my discharging him, which I hope I’ve now resolved.” Dismissing the subject, Dustin clapped Lanston on the arm. “In any case, I was about to come looking for you to congratulate you again on your victories and to say good-bye. I must be heading back to Tyreham. My Derby preparations await. Will I see you at Epsom?”
The earl gave an adamant nod. “I wouldn’t miss it. I look forward to witnessing this phenomenon of yours, this Stoddard fellow, racing Dagger.” A challenging lift of his brows. “Who knows? Perhaps I’ll offer you some healthy competition during the remainder of the meeting.”
“Perhaps.” With a broad grin, Dustin climbed into the carriage. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”
“You can’t count on anything. That’s the most important lesson I can teach you.”
Nick Aldridge paced about the cottage sitting room, his brow furrowed in concentration as he instructed Nicole.
“I know that, Papa.” She perched on the edge of the sofa. “After all these years of watching you, I’ve learned that one can rely only upon one’s wits.”
“Good girl. Because you can’t control the weather, the conditions of the grounds at Epsom that day, or any unplanned complications that might occur during the race. All you can do is know that bloody course like the back of your hand and size up the other jockeys to the best of your ability.” Halting, Nick leveled his gaze at Nicole. “We’ll deal with how to handle the other jockeys—averting their various maneuvers to crowd you out, identifying the best ways to thread through their midst, and a host of other techniques—next week. But for now, let’s deal with you. To begin, where would you ideally be situated if you had your pick of the lots drawn?”
“At the rail, of course.”
“What if you weren’t?”
“Then I’d look for the first opportunity to squeeze by and get there.” She grinned, holding up her palm to ward off her father’s oncoming admonishment. “‘Look’ is the wrong choice of words. Sense. I wouldn’t spend an extra minute watching the other jockeys. I’d only give them an occasional glimpse to assess their respective positions. To avert my head would be distracting to Dagger and detrimental to our speed.”
“Pacing,” Nick corrected. “Pacing is what will ultimately win you this race, Nickie. And pacing does not always mean speed.”
“No, it doesn’t. Especially not on the Epsom course. I have to contend with that difficult turn at Tattenham Corner, not to mention the steep downhill section. Those are the times when I’ll have to slow down, be precise.”
“Exactly. Precise and smooth. The slightest hesitation could cost you the race. Now, combine your memories and your instincts and tell me, how would you take the Derby course?”
Nicole frowned. “I’d feel better about answering that question if I’d already ridden it.”
“Don’t start that argument again. You’re not venturing from Tyreham until your marquis returns. Now, answer my question.”
“Very well.” She sighed. “The Derby course is in the shape of a horseshoe. The first section is on the ascent, and I’ll reach the top of the hill upon rounding Tattenham Corner. Here’s where my pacing must be perfect. If I ease Dagger around the bend without breaking stride or pushing too hard, we’ll sail easily into the descent. If not, we’ll fly into it awkwardly and either lose footing or momentum—either of which could cost us the race. The winning post is only a short distance from there.”
“So you’ll be prepared for it, there’s a slight rise leading into the winning post. But if you’ve mastered the descent, that should pose no problem.” Nick rubbed his hands together. “Having accomplished all that, at what point do you make your effort, breaking into a gallop that will leave the others far behind and award you first place?”
Nicole smiled at her father’s obvious bias. “Fifty yards from the winning post.”
“Excellent. Better than excellent.” Nick positively beamed. “You’ve never even ridden the course, and your feel for it is exceptional. Between what I’m teaching you and your natural instincts, no other jockey has a prayer.”
“Remember, Papa, count on nothing,” Nicole teased, rising to hug him. “In all seriousness,” she added, sobering, “my instincts alone wouldn’t be enough—not without these sessions of ours. You know more about racing than anyone on the English turf. I’m blessed to have your guidance and your teaching, both of which are invaluable.” A shadow nickered across her face. “At least some trainers are committed to what they do.”
“We’re back to Raggert again.”
“He hasn’t wandered from my side once during the past three days. And, believe me, his intentions aren’
t to praise Dagger or encourage me. All he does is grill me incessantly and inspect Dagger as if the poor stallion is bound to slip up and show his true colors at any given moment. Evidently, Mr. Raggert thinks I need constant supervision, and that with Dustin away, it’s his job to provide it.” She shook her head in frustration. “Honestly, Papa, if Raggert spent half as much time scrutinizing the horses as he does scrutinizing me, I might actually believe he’s as splendid a trainer as you and Dustin claim.”
“Is it that bad?” Nick scowled. “I hadn’t realized he was asking you questions. About what?”
“Don’t start worrying.” Nicole patted her father’s arm reassuringly. “He hasn’t a clue who I really am. His questions are all for Stoddard—where Stoddard is from, where did he apprentice, how did he come to work at Tyreham, that sort of thing.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I’d apprenticed in Scotland, near the small village where I was born. That Lord Tyreham happened upon me during one of his summer visits to Balmoral and was impressed with my horsemanship. Therefore, when Nick Aldridge was unable to answer the personal, Lord Tyreham summoned me to England and to Tyreham. End of story.”
“Did you mention this fanciful yarn of yours to Lord Tyreham before using it on Raggert?”
“It’s not fanciful, Papa. It’s as close to the truth as I could get, other than the part about my living in Scotland. As for discussing the details with Dustin, no I hadn’t the chance, but I will. The instant he returns from Newmarket.”
“You don’t consider invented visits to Balmoral fanciful?”
“In Dustin’s case, they’re neither fanciful nor invented. His father was a close friend of Her Majesty’s, so the Kingsleys spent many summer days at Balmoral. During one visit, in fact, Dustin saved the queen’s life. That’s how he acquired his title—it was bestowed upon him by Queen Victoria.”
“I’m impressed.” Nick regarded her intently. “More importantly, so are you, not by the title but by the way in which it was earned. Lord Tyreham saved someone’s life, our queen’s, no less. That’s quite a feat.” A satisfied nod. “As your father, I’m also very pleased that you and Tyreham have shared so many personal anecdotes. The acquiring of his title, your locket …” Her father shot her a meaningful look.
“All right, Papa, you’ve made your point. Yes, I told Dustin about the locket. And about Mama.” A soft smile. “The memories just seemed to spill forth on their own.”
“That’s as it should be.” Nick cleared his throat. “Let’s get back to Raggert. Even if his questions are innocent, why the hell is he so curious about Stoddard? Jockeys aren’t his business, horses are.”
“My view exactly.”
“Well, I intend to report this to Tyreham when he returns. He should be aware that Raggert is poking around where he doesn’t belong.” Another purposeful glance. “He should also be aware of the story you conjured up about Stoddard’s background.”
“I’ll tell him.” Nicole’s eyes twinkled. “On the way to Epsom. Where I intend to dash off to the very instant Dustin sets foot on this estate.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door.
Nick tensed, his gaze darting toward the hallway.
“I’ll see who it is,” Nicole declared at once, reaching up to confirm that her cap was still in place. “But there’s only one person who ever visits us here.” She crossed the room in a flash. “Dustin must be home.”
She reached the front door … then held her breath.
“It’s Tyreham.”
Those were exactly the words she’d waited to hear, and the voice she’d awaited speaking them.
Turning the key, she opened the door, her heart pounding as she gazed up at the man she loved, simultaneously trying to still her trembling.
“Welcome home, Lord Tyreham,” she greeted him in Stoddard’s voice.
Those midnight eyes delved into her with an intimacy that made her weak. “Stoddard.”
Dustin stepped inside, shut the door.
And Nicole was in his arms.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured, seizing her mouth in a kiss of undisputed possession.
“I missed you, too.” Reluctantly, she eased back, searched his face. “Are you all right?”
“Now I am.” He cradled her against him for a moment, as if deriving strength from the very feel of her.
“Papa’s right inside,” she informed him softly.
“I assumed as much. Otherwise, I’d be doing much more than holding you.” He tilted her chin up. “I’m taking you to the cabin tonight. We’re going to talk.”
Her insides melted. “Only talk?”
That devastating smile. “Knowing what happens when you’re near me, I doubt it.” His expression intensified, his knuckles tenderly caressing her cheek. “For now, I want to hear only two things. First, that you and your father are well and safe.”
“We are.”
“Next, that you love me.”
Nicole’s lips trembled. “I do,” she whispered.
“Say the words.”
“I love you.”
“And I love you.” Again, he kissed her, this time with a wealth of poignant emotion. “I’m never going to let you go, Nicole. Never.”
“Nickie?”
Her father’s voice intruded, and Nicole stepped away, as loath as Dustin to break the intimacy of the moment. “Yes, Papa,” she called back, her voice unsteady. “It’s all right. It’s Lord Tyreham.” She gave Dustin a shaky smile. “That’s as tactful as Papa gets. He knows it’s you. He’s announcing himself before he descends upon our privacy.”
“I realize that.” Dustin captured her hand, intertwined their fingers. “Will you come with me tonight? To the cabin?”
“You know I will,” Nicole heard herself reply. Was it only wishful thinking or had she just offered him far more than a stroll?
“You’re back.” Nick emerged, relief flooding his features. “Is Sully well? Did you learn anything?”
“Lord, I didn’t even ask you how Sully was,” Nicole burst out, blushing profusely as she recognized the implication of her statement.
“You had other things on your mind,” her father surprised her by saying—with a grin, no less. “I didn’t.”
“Sullivan is up and about, restless and irritable,” Dustin reported, Nicole’s hand still clasped firmly in his. “He and Tuttle have become fast friends. Evidently, in between Sullivan’s grumbling, they play cards and argue over which one of them has cheated.” A corner of Dustin’s mouth lifted. “On the whole, your friend is very much himself. The bruises should fade enough over the next week or so for him to leave his quarters and resume his life without having to answer a lot of disagreeable questions. In fact, we’re going to have him as a houseguest the week of the Derby.”
“Sully’s coming?” Nicole demanded, seeing her father beam from ear to ear.
“He is indeed,” Dustin confirmed. “I’ve arranged for him to travel to Tyreham the day before the Epsom meeting commences. Should anyone inquire about his presence, we’ll simply say he and I are discussing a retainer.”
“You’d do well to make that ploy a reality,” Nick declared loyally. “Sully’s one of the finest jockeys in the business, successful, with years of experience. Honest as they come, too.”
Dustin arched a brow. “What makes you think the explanation is entirely a ploy?”
“It isn’t?” Nicole’s eyes widened with pleasure.
“Absolutely not. Oh, it’s a useful excuse, given the circumstances. But, that aside, I’d be honored to have Sullivan ride for me.” His gaze returned to Nick, a sparkle of humor illuminating his eyes. “That is, if you’re amenable to the idea. After all, since I mean to swiftly expose whoever’s threatening you, you will soon be signing an exclusive retainer with me. And I’d never consider hiring anyone you’d prefer not to work with.”
“I’ll manage,” Nick responded, visibly moved by the extent of Dustin’s generosit
y. “Thank you, my lord.”
“For what? For having two fine jockeys like you and Sullivan on retainer? It’s I who should be thanking you.”
Nicole tapped Dustin’s sleeve. “Two fine jockeys? Where does Alden Stoddard fit into that list?”
Dustin’s smile enveloped her in tenderness. “Stoddard is in a class by himself.”
“Speaking of Stoddard, Raggert’s been bothering Nicole,” Nick announced.
Instantly, Dustin tensed. “Bothering her? How?”
Sighing, Nicole relayed the situation to Dustin as she had to her father, including the fictitious background she’d created to ward off Raggert’s suspicions. “Perhaps I’m overreacting,” she concluded, “but he makes me so uncomfortable. And I still can’t rid myself of this feeling that he’s not to be trusted.”
“His behavior does sound odd.” Dustin frowned. “I certainly never asked him to interrogate my jockey, nor to spend an inordinate amount of time watching Dagger, for that matter. I’m glad you mentioned this to me. I’ll watch Raggert closely. Let’s see if he continues to harass you now that I’m home from Newmarket. Oh, speaking of Newmarket …” Dustin released Nicole’s hand, reaching into his pocket. “Your license, Mr. Stoddard,” he proclaimed, flourishing the document
