Wishes In The Wind Part 36

As Demon's owner, so was Lanston.

Fleetingly, Dustin's gaze darted to Nicole's, his expression fierce with anger and worry.

"I'm fine." She mouthed the words with a shaky grin, touching the brim of her cap to salute their victory-acknowledged or not.

His relief transmitted itself to her as clearly as if he were standing right beside her. With a solemn salute, he mouthed back, "You're a h.e.l.l of a lot better than fine."

Then he returned to the battle at hand.

"How does it feel to be a Derby winner?" Dustin asked, entwining Nicole's fingers in his.

She settled against the cottage settee, totally spent from the past few hours of grueling questions, hearty congratulations, and, upon her arrival at Tyreham, frenzied worry and furious outbursts from her father-followed, finally, by a warm bath and change of clothes. "I still can't believe I won," she murmured, grateful beyond words for Dustin's intentional efforts to relax her. "How does it feel? Wonderful. Better than wonderful. Even better than the bath I soaked in."

He pressed her palm to his lips. "You were astonishing. I've never seen such extraordinary riding in my life."

"Neither have I," Sully agreed, following Nick out of the kitchen while casting repeated, worried glances at him.

"Here's your tea, Nickie." Nick handed her a cup, still white-faced with the realization that his precious daughter could have been killed today. "Tyreham, do you and Saxon want another brandy? I'm having a third. Lord knows, I need it." Even as he spoke, he was sloshing brandy into a gla.s.s. "I still can't believe Raggert cut those straps."

"Well, he did," Saxon said quietly from the armchair in which he sat. "Although no one besides us and the duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Broddington knows it. I'm only sorry I couldn't get to the race in time to spare Miss Aldridge from her harrowing experience."

"I'm not," Nicole a.s.sured him, sipping her tea. "Much as I detest Raggert and what he did, I loved every minute of that race-even the most challenging seconds when I was scared silly. If you'd arrived in time to delay the starter's flag, you would have had to provide an explanation. Lanston might have eluded us, and I would have had to forfeit my entry and my victory."

"Not necessarily in that order of importance," Dustin commented, his lips twitching.

"Speaking of Lanston," Sully chimed in, "how did he behave during that bitter battle for first place?"

"Like a drowning man fighting for air," Dustin supplied. "Oh, he was gracious as h.e.l.l when the judges' decision was announced, offered repeated congratulations to both Stoddard and me, but his pretense was far from convincing. In truth, he was white with fury. I think he wanted to kill me."

"How could he think the judges would rule in his favor?" Sully barked. "The elf not only won bareback, she took the time and care to move aside so no one would be hurt or even slowed by that saddle when it sailed off. She lost ten good seconds doing that, if you ask me. Her winning time should have been reduced to two minutes twenty-nine seconds."

"Two minutes thirty-nine seconds is fine with me," Nicole demurred, "as is winning by a neck. My dreams were to run in the Derby and to win it. In committing those wishes to my locket, I didn't specify an exact distance, by which I needed to win nor a specific time frame in which I had to do so."

Throughout Sully and Nicole's exchange, Nick had been staring broodingly into his brandy. Now, he slammed his goblet onto the side table, facing Dustin with blazing eyes. "Tyreham, what the h.e.l.l is the matter with you? You allowed everyone on the turf to believe that some unknown, jealous mischief maker tampered with Dagger's tack when you know d.a.m.ned well that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Lanston paid Raggert to hurt my daughter. Not only are you letting them both walk free and unaccused, you're sheltering that son of a b.i.t.c.h Raggert under your roof, letting him keep his job. Have you lost your b.l.o.o.d.y mind?"

"Papa." Nicole emitted a tolerant sigh. "Please stop bellowing and try to be rational. What good would it have done for Dustin to accuse Lord Lanston? What proof do we have? The tack Mr. Saxon found only condemns Raggert. Lanston could simply deny knowledge of the whole crime and walk away virtually unscathed. And since he's the one we want, we have to tread very carefully."

"Your daughter is right, sir," Saxon concurred.

"I don't give a d.a.m.n." Nick continued to glare at Dustin even as he addressed Nicole. "Elf, you could have been killed. It seems to me that protecting you and punishing the men who threatened your life should be first on the list of your husband-to-be."

"Papa ..."

"It's all right, sweetheart." Dustin squeezed Nicole's fingers and released them, leaning forward to meet Nick's gaze. "Your father is right. It's time I shared my plan with him-and with you."

"Plan?" Nick demanded. "What plan?"

"The one Saxon and I worked out."

"Actually, Lord Tyreham is being unduly modest," Saxon inserted. "The idea was, for the most part, his. I merely elaborated on it." A grin. "As I said, sir, you'd make an excellent investigator."

"Dustin?" Nicole set down her teacup, brows drawn in puzzlement. "You didn't mention any plan to me."

"I intended to-after you'd had a chance to recoup your strength and I mine." He stared into his empty goblet, his voice growing hoa.r.s.e with emotion. "I don't think I'll ever recover from the dread I felt watching you slide wildly from side to side as you tore around that corner. I was so terrified you'd-" He broke off, swallowing.

"Well, by the grace of G.o.d, Nickie is fine," Nick said in a mollified tone. "So tell us what plan you're talking about."

Dustin looked up, the predatory fire in his eyes burning away all traces of vulnerability. "The plan that begins with my feigned ignorance of Raggert's guilt in severing those straps, despite the fact that I'd like to break every bone in his contemptible body, and culminates in sending him, Lanston, and all their filthy colleagues to prison. The plan that will further result in reinstating you as England's finest jockey and in giving me the miracle I've awaited forever-your daughter as my wife."

Eighteen.

"STODDARD! ARE YOU UP to being at the stables this morning?" Brackley tossed aside Blanket's saddle and hurried up to Nicole.

From the corner of her eye Nicole saw Raggert step out of Blanket's stall.

"I'm fine, Brackley. Thanks." She gave him a faint smile. "Although I'm not eager to relive yesterday."

"I don't blame you. You could have been killed." He patted Nicole's shoulder. "Like I said yesterday, you're one h.e.l.l of a jockey. That Derby will go down in history."

"I hope so. Because it's my first and my last."

In the distance, Raggert's head came up.

"What do you mean?" Brackley asked, rubbing his chin.

"That's really what I came here to tell you, and what I intend to tell Lord Tyreham." A resigned sigh. "Brackley, I'm not suited for racing. I have the skill, but I haven't the grit or the strength. I'm totally spent from weeks of nonstop training. My nerves were raw enough just thinking about competing in the Derby. Then yesterday- well, I could have died or killed someone else. That reality did me in. Affinity for horses or not, it's not worth it. So I'm packing away my Derby victory and bidding the turf good-bye."

"Stoddard, you're talking crazy. Do you know how good you are? What kind of future you're pa.s.sing up?"

A nod. "Yeah, I do."

Brackley drew a sharp, inward breath. "Lad, the race only happened yesterday. You're still reeling from the shock. Why not take some time off-h.e.l.l, maybe even skip the whole summer racing season. Then in the fall, you can reconsider." An attempted grin. "Not every race is as exciting as yesterday's Derby. I'll bet you find most of them uneventful and boring. But you're too d.a.m.ned good to walk away."

"Right now, I have to."

"Look-I have an idea," Brackley tried, gesturing about the stables. "I need more hands around here than I can count. How about if I arrange with Lord Tyreham for you to work with me, exercise the horses, maybe break in the new foals. Temporarily, of course. Until you feel up to racing again. The money won't be as good as a jockey makes, but you won't starve either. And you'll be able to stay where you're happiest, where you belong-around horses."

Nicole felt a surge of warmth at the generous offer Brackley was extending-maybe even at his own expense. If Brackley a.s.sumed that taking Stoddard on meant the lad would get a portion of the work, he probably also a.s.sumed he'd get a portion of the pay. I wish I could tell you, my friend, she mused silently. But I can't. Not yet. Still, your kindness won't be forgotten. Soon I'll be able to repay you.

Her own reflection sp.a.w.ned an inner smile. It appeared there would be definite advantages to becoming the marchioness of Tyreham, after all.

"Stoddard?" Dustin flung open the door to the stables. "Ah, there you are." He stalked over to where she and Brackley stood. "Are you feeling better today?"

"Yes, my lord. I am. However ..."

"Excellent. Because I've just arranged for the most extraordinary opportunity."

"Sir?"

"During your final practice at Epsom, Lord Lanston put a splendid idea in my head. After seeing you race yesterday, I was more than eager to realize his suggestion. I've done precisely that. I spoke to the Stewards early this morning, and, given your superb performance at the Derby yesterday, they've agreed to allow us to enter the Oaks Stakes, which is taking place at Epsom tomorrow."

Nicole blinked. "But it's too late to enter ..."

"I've been granted special permission. The Stewards unanimously agreed you're too b.l.o.o.d.y good a jockey to limit to one race." Dustin glanced at Brackley. "The Oaks, as you know, is for three-year-old fillies. I've entered Winning Streak. She and Stoddard will take the race without batting a lash."

"I'm sure they will, my lord." Brackley cast a questioning look at Nicole, who lowered her gaze to the ground.

"My family's waiting, so I must be getting back to the manor," Dustin concluded, apparently oblivious to Stoddard's less than enthusiastic reaction. "But as soon as Winning Streak is tacked up, I want you to take a few trials on her. Oh ... Raggert." Dustin seemed to spy the trainer for the first time. "It's a good thing you're here. This situation concerns you, too, on a most crucial level."

The trainer inadvertently stiffened.

"I don't like to upend your schedule without notice," Dustin continued, seemingly unaware of Raggert's tension. "Therefore, I shan't expect you to a.s.sist Brackley and me in working with Stoddard today, but tomorrow I have a conflict. Long before I realized I'd be entering Winning Streak in the Oaks, my brother and I arranged a business meeting for tomorrow morning. And, as the duke and his family will be departing for Broddington directly after the close of the Epsom races, there is no other time for us to conduct this meeting. Therefore, I'll need you to oversee Stoddard during his final trial tomorrow morning. Brackley will time him. I'll be back before the race, after which, you're free to take the rest of the day off. Does that present any problems?"

"No, sir," Raggert replied, nearly sagging with relief. "I'll make sure they're ready to do their job at the Oaks."

"I'm sure you will, Raggert." With a cool nod, Dustin turned. "Congratulations again, Stoddard. You were amazing."

With that, he was gone.

"What the h.e.l.l is the matter with you, Stoddard?" Raggert barked from alongside the course. "You're riding like you've never been in the saddle."

"Why don't you stop badgering the poor lad," Brackley asked, struggling to control his anger. "He's obviously not himself."

"Not himself?" Raggert blinked in astonishment. "The b.l.o.o.d.y Oaks Stakes is in six hours. All I asked him to do was trot Winning Streak over the last lap of the trial, just to give her a bit of exercise. If he can't do that, how the h.e.l.l can he race?"

"Raggert's right, Brackley." Nicole brought Winning Streak around, patting her neck fondly before dismounting. "It's no use. I've tried, for Lord Tyreham's sake, but I'm taut as a bowstring in that saddle. I feel it, and so does Winning Streak. My entering the Oaks is a mistake. I'll only embarra.s.s Lord Tyreham, and I won't do that, not after all he's done for me." She sighed, wiping perspiration from her brow. "Brackley, thank you for your kind offer yesterday morning. I might even have taken you up on it, but I can't face the marquis. Especially not after what I'm about to do."

Brackley paled. "Which is?"

"Bolt," Nicole stated simply.

"Bolt?" Raggert's mouth fell open. "You mean you're not competing?"

"That's what I mean. Listen to me, both of you. No one but the Stewards of the Jockey Club know Lord Tyreham is entering the Oaks. The Racing Calendar made no mention of it. So far as the world of the turf is concerned, Winning Streak is not a contender." Nicole turned to Raggert. "Lord Tyreham gave you the afternoon off. Knowing how loyal you are to him, I'm asking you to use that time to ride ahead and alert the Stewards to the change in plans. Tell them the truth, sparing neither me nor my cowardice. That way, Lord Tyreham's reputation will be unscathed, which is all I really care about anyway."

"Stoddard, think of what you're doing," Brackley inserted.

"I have." Her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Brackley. I can't face another race. I'm ... terrified."

"I'll leave this instant," Raggert announced, a gleam in his eyes.

"So will I," Nicole murmured. "By the time the Oaks commences, I'll be miles away." With an odd expression, she surveyed the grounds, then looked from Raggert to Brackley. "I don't expect either of you will be seeing me again. Thank you, Brackley." She extended her hand, clasping his firmly. "You've been a good friend. And, Raggert-" She inclined her head in the trainer's direction. "Working with you has been quite an experience. Conflicting, to say the least. But at this moment, when so much is at stake, I can't tell you how much your cooperation means to me."

"Think nothing of it." Raggert was already backing away. "Good luck, Stoddard."

Brackley watched him hurry off, took an inadvertent step after him.

"Don't," Nicole said quietly. "Trust me, Brackley. This is for the best. Let him go. And me, as well." She tucked Winning Streak's reins into Brackley's hands, then turned to leave. "I'll see you soon, my friend."

"Stoddard?"

Nicole glanced over her shoulder, smiling at Brackley's quizzical expression. "Yes?"

"I thought you said we won't be seeing you again."

"I did. But I said nothing about my seeing you."

A half hour later, Ariana Kingsley whirled a soft blue day dress from her wardrobe. "This is perfect." She squinted at Nicole, still clad in dirty breeches and shirt, and a self-satisfied smile curved her lips. "You, Miss Aldridge, are going to take the ton by storm." Lowering the dress to her bed, she began to laugh. "After all this time, Dustin is finally going to get his comeuppance. I can hardly wait to see the expression on his face when the besotted admirers strewn at his feet are men, and the one they're gazing at with lovesick eyes is you."

Nicole frowned dubiously. "I wouldn't count on that, Ariana. I'm not a natural beauty like you."

"You're not, are you?" Ariana pointed to the bathroom.

"Wash the dirt away, then give me a half hour. You'll bring every breathing male in England to his knees."

Crossing over, Nicole fingered the gown's soft bodice. "It's beautiful," she breathed. "Are you sure you don't mind my borrowing it?"

Ariana seized her hands. "Nicole, I've awaited this day for two years. You're the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to Dustin-the woman I've prayed for to make him whole. And, selfishly, I'm looking forward to calling you my friend-and my sister. So, please, anything I have is yours."

Swallowing, Nicole murmured, "Thank you."

A sharp rap sounded at the bedchamber door.

"Who could that be?" Again Ariana gestured toward the bathroom-this time worriedly. "Hide."

"All right." With a mysterious grin, Nicole complied, reaching up to tug the pins from beneath her cap. "But I don't think it's necessary."

An instant later, Trenton Kingsley strode into his wife's chambers, Alexander in his arms.

"Trenton?" Ariana frowned, puzzled. "It's not time to leave yet. Nicole and I aren't finished dressing."

"I know." He shook his head bemusedly. "But Nicole asked me to stop by your room an hour before we head for Epsom and to bring Alexander with me. So here we are."

"Yes, right on time." Nicole stepped back into the room, tugging her last few constricting hairpins free. Eyes twinkling, she walked over to Trenton. "I believe I made your son a promise, one I intend to keep." She leaned forward, taking Alexander's tiny fist and unclasping it to place his chubby fingers on the rim of her cap. "Go ahead, my little lord. It's all yours."

Grinning broadly, Alexander yanked, tugging the cap free and sending Nicole's dark curls cascading out in a dozen directions. "Mama," he declared, waving the cap around.

"I hope so," Nicole replied solemnly, kissing his brow. "As soon as the wedding's over and your Uncle Dustin and I can arrange it. You'll be the first to know." She shifted his hand over to his own head, placing the jockey's cap atop it, where it promptly swallowed him down to his chin.

From beneath the concealing fabric came a coo of delight.