by Andrea Kane
All the color had drained from Poole’s face. “Of course, sir,” he replied, his voice unsteady. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Tell me where I can find this Stoddard fellow. Because if he knows anything about what just happened here, I intend to find out.”
“He’s waiting in your study.”
Nodding, Dustin clasped Poole’s shoulder. “Not a word of this to anyone.”
“No one, my lord.”
“Thank you, Poole.” His jaw set, Dustin stalked toward the manor.
Nicole shifted in the study chair, wondering where the mysterious marquis of Tyreham was and wishing he’d hurry and make an appearance. The apprehension was almost more than she could bear.
Her disguise was flawless. She knew that. Her garb was that of a stableboy; every last hair swept up into a rigid knot beneath her cap; every sign of feminity concealed, as the binding around her breasts—which rivaled her corset in discomfort—could attest.
Clutching her father’s note, she mentally rehearsed the speech she’d prepared, reminding herself to further her cause by keeping her movements to a minimum during this, the sole one-on-one meeting she’d likely have to suffer with the man she meant to work for. After today she’d be with the horses, training, and he’d be in his mansion doing whatever it was a marquis did.
But she wasn’t leaving Tyreham without that job.
Behind her the door swung open, and she came slowly to her feet, unfolding from her chair like a man. It was time to convince him. She had to convince him. For her father’s sake … and her own.
She turned to face her challenge.
“Mr. Stoddard? I’m the marquis of Tyreham. I understand you wish to see me.”
My God, it was Dustin.
For a split second, Nicole felt her legs give out, and she feared, yet again, she might swoon—a sensation she’d only experienced twice, both times in this man’s presence.
Dustin—the marquis of Tyreham? How could this be happening?
“Stoddard?”
He was looking at her oddly, and she gave herself a mental kick. Pull yourself together, she commanded silently. In Dustin’s mind, nothing has changed since he walked through that door. He’s a breeder seeking the best damned jockey in England, and I’m some obscure boy intruding on a job intended for another. And I want that bloody job—Dustin or not. So, I’d better say something. Now.
“Yes—Alden Stoddard. Thank you for seeing me, my lord.” Good, excellent. Her voice was calm and pitched lower than usual, more like a young man’s than her own. She tugged at the brim of her jockey’s cap, grateful that it covered not only her hair but most of her forehead as well. Firmly, she reminded herself that Dustin had met “Nicole” under cover of night and, therefore, had not gotten a thorough look at her, also that while he looked much the same then as he did now—other than a change from evening attire to riding clothes—she’d been someone else that night at the Thames, not only a different person but a different gender. Hence, not only wouldn’t he see a resemblance, he wouldn’t even be searching for one.
“You’ve certainly piqued my curiosity, Stoddard,” Dustin was saying, simultaneously gesturing for her to be seated. He assessed her intently while she complied. Then he crossed over to his desk. “My butler tells me Nick Aldridge sent you.”
“Yes, sir, he did.” Nicole went taut as he walked past her, almost close enough to touch. Again she chided herself to forget that the man who was about to determine her future was the same man who’d invaded her dreams these past nights. If she didn’t, she’d never survive this interview, much less acquire the position.
“Why?” Dustin perched on the edge of the desk, his midnight eyes fixed, once again, on her face. “Why did Nick Aldridge send you?”
“It’s all here in this note, my lord.” Composing herself, she extended her hand, staunchly stilling its trembling. “I assume you’ve heard about Nick’s injury?”
“I’ve heard.” He took the letter, making no move to unfold it.
Nicole cleared her throat. “Well, he was very disappointed that he couldn’t accept your offer—at least not immediately. He sent me to fill in for him until he could ride.”
One dark brow rose. “And who, may I ask, are you? The name Alden Stoddard means nothing to me.”
Lord, he was formidable when doing business—a different man than the one who’d dried her tears. Well, perhaps that was better. It would make it easier for her to recall her purpose in coming. “I’m Nick’s protégé,” she said proudly. “I apprenticed under him for fifteen years.”
“Fifteen years? You must have been riding before you could walk.”
Angry color leaped to her cheeks. “I’m twenty, my lord. I was walking by the age of one and riding shortly thereafter.”
“I see.” A flash of amusement. “Go on.”
“Nick is a brilliant and skillful horseman. I was lucky enough to reap the benefits of his teaching and talent. I’m fully qualified to act as your jockey until his return.”
“That’s quite an arrogant claim.”
“It’s not arrogance, sir. It’s fact.”
“I see.” Dustin glanced down at the unopened letter in his hand. “I assume Aldridge has included your career summary in this recommendation.”
“Career summary?”
“Yes. Where you’ve ridden, a list of specific races you’ve placed in … that sort of thing. And, of course, your license.”
This was the part Nicole had dreaded most. Squaring her shoulders, she confronted it head-on. “No, he hasn’t.”
A look of feigned surprise. “Why not?”
“Somehow I think you’ve already guessed the answer to that, but, since you obviously wish to hear it from me, I’ll comply. The truth is, I have no license. I’ve never raced professionally. My career, thus far, has been devoted to assisting Nick. But don’t confuse opportunity with skill. When I do race—which I shall, be it for you or for another—I’ll win. Not just once but every time I’m in the saddle.”
“I applaud your confidence.”
“Lord Tyreham—” Nicole took a deep, calming breath. “I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t toy with me. If you’ve already made up your mind not to hire me, say so and I’ll take my leave. However, if there’s a possibility, no matter how slight, that you might reconsider—tell me. And I’ll move heaven and earth to convince you to do so.”
Dustin grinned. “Straightforward, honest, and very self-confident. I like that.” He unfolded Nick’s note, scanning it briefly. “Obviously, Aldridge has great faith in your abilities.”
“If you require proof that the letter is written in Nick’s hand …” Nicole reached into her pocket to extract the other samples of her father’s handwriting she’d brought.
“I don’t.”
Her hand stilled. “What does that mean?”
“It means that moving heaven and earth won’t be necessary. Save your strength for the turf. I’m convinced.” Dustin rose. “When can you begin?”
“You’re offering me the job?”
“Only until Aldridge returns from Scotland,” he clarified.
“Of course.” Nicole stood as well, cautioning herself not to shout out her elation. “I can start first thing tomorrow, sir.” She gave him what she hoped was a self-assured smile.
“Good. Now, about living quarters—where are you from?”
“Pardon me?”
“Do you live far from Tyreham? If so, that will be a problem. In order for you to be ready for the remaining competitions this month, you’ll need intensive training. The hours will be long, the work grueling. Perhaps you should move to Tyreham—that is, if your family doesn’t mind.”
Nicole’s eyes widened. “You want me to race at the spring meetings—this year’s spring meetings?”
“Of course. We’re only in the first week of May. Most of the spring races have yet to take place. Newmarket’s second set begins the eleventh—” Dustin frowned. “No, that’s too
soon. We’ll need several weeks—you, to prepare, I, to meet with the Stewards of the Jockey Club about obtaining your license, getting special permission for last minute entries. Let’s see, Bath and Somerset begin the eighteenth, as does Manchester. My instincts tell me to wait. You’ll be ready for Epsom on the twenty-fifth.”
“Epsom.” Nicole breathed the word as if it were sacred. “Which race?”
A corner of Dustin’s mouth lifted. “How good did you say you were?”
“Very good. Extraordinary, according to Nick.”
“I see.” Those incredible eyes were delving again. “Tell me, Stoddard, how are you at calming skittish horses?”
Nicole inclined her head, puzzled by the change in subject. “Horses are much like people, my lord. They’re rarely skittish without cause. Why?”
“Because I’ve just purchased an amazing stallion who I believe can outrace every champion England boasts. I’ve seen him run, and he’s incomparable, both in form and speed. However, during the fortnight he’s been at Tyreham, he’s balked whenever my head groom or I approach. Do you think you could bring him around?”
“And if I do?”
“Then you’ll ride him in the Derby Stakes.”
“I’ll bring him around.”
Dustin chuckled. “I take it the idea appeals to you?”
“My greatest dream has always been to ride in the Derby,” Nicole answered honestly.
“Excellent. Then win Dagger over and your dream will become reality.”
Nicole fought the urge to hug him. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”
“You’re welcome.” His expression turned quizzical. “You never did answer my question about your living arrangements.”
“I live in London. With my father.”
“I see.” A pensive silence. “Your father is welcome to move to Tyreham with you,” he added, studying her reaction. “I can offer you a cottage on the far grounds where my tenants reside. It’s small but furnished and private, and it will eliminate your need to travel to and from London each day.”
Relief exploded in Nicole’s chest. Not only a job that surpassed her wildest hopes but a home as well—and a safe place to hide her father. Perhaps her wishing locket had worked a miracle after all. “That would be ideal, my lord. Again, I thank you.”
“And again you’re welcome.” He closed the distance between them, looming over her in a way that made her mouth go dry.
“I …” She swallowed, staring at his shirtfront. “I’d best be on my way. I have to pack. And tomorrow will be here before you know it.”
“Indeed it will.”
“You won’t be sorry you made this decision, my lord.”
“No, Nicole, I won’t be.” Dustin cupped her face, raising it to meet his gaze. “Because if you ride half as fast as you run, you’ll put even Nick Aldridge to shame.”
Four
NICOLE’S JAW DROPPED. “YOU knew?”
“The instant I saw you. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t?”
She gave a small, bewildered shrug. “In truth, I didn’t think at all. I hadn’t time to. I had no idea who you really were until a quarter hour past.” A mutinous spark. “Why did you put me through that grueling interview if you already knew who I was?”
“Because an incident occurred just before your arrival, and I had to decide if your visit was in any way related.”
“What incident?”
Dustin answered with a question of his own. “Your father—the man who will accompany you to Tyreham—it’s Nick Aldridge, isn’t it?”
Fear flashed in her violet eyes—eyes more exquisite than he’d been able to fathom in the darkness of night—as frantically, she sought an explanation. “He’s … I’m …”
“So, he’s not in Scotland at all,” Dustin mused aloud.
“My lord, please.” She’d gone sheet white.
“It’s all right, Nicole.” Dustin captured her fingers, warming them in his. “Your secret is safe. Your father will be, too. I’ll make certain of it. I promise.”
Satisfaction inundated him as he saw her visibly relax.
“Is my disguise so transparent then?” she asked in a small voice.
“Only to me, and only because I’ve done nothing but visualize your face since we met. If it’s any consolation, my butler, Poole, who is known for his discerning eye, never doubted for a minute that you were a boy. So I commend you on a job well done.”
He was rewarded with a hint of a smile. “You’ve comforted me yet again, my lord, and this time without need of a handkerchief.”
“I’m honored,” Dustin replied. Soberly, he assessed her delicate features, thinking to himself that even disguised as a boy, she was breathtaking—all that he’d remembered and more.
On impulse, he reached out, tugging at the brim of her cap, frowning when it wouldn’t budge. “Did you cut your hair?” he demanded.
She shook her head. “No. I wanted to. It would have been prudent, given the circumstances. However, Papa became irate at the prospect. So I compensated by pinning the cap on so securely it cannot fall free.”
“Take it off.”
“Lord Tyreham …” She glanced uneasily at the door.
His eyes darkened. “Two days ago it was Dustin.”
“That was before I knew who you were.”
“I’m the same man you met on the river walk. Only now you have a title to put alongside the name.” Swiftly, he crossed the room, turning the key to lock the door and protect Nicole’s secret. “I also have a surname. It’s Kingsley. As yours is Aldridge. Now, does that conclude all aspects of our introduction?”
“You’ve made your point, my lord—Dustin,” she amended, detecting the clenching of his jaw. “Now what is it you want from me?”
“From whom? Nicole Aldridge or Alden Stoddard?”
“Both.”
“Very well.” He walked slowly toward her. “From Alden Stoddard, I want answers.”
“That’s what I was afraid of, once you mentioned this mysterious incident you have yet to disclose.” Sighing, Nicole resettled her cap more firmly on her head. “So you were toying with me when you offered me the job.”
“You didn’t let me finish. I also want first place in the Derby. And I believe Stoddard is the man to hand it to me.”
“You were serious then?” Her chin shot up. “The job is mine?”
“Um-hum.” He stifled a grin—as well as a nearly unbearable urge to haul her against him and kiss her senseless. “If your father says you’re that good, you must be.” He continued toward her, halting only when mere inches separated them. “Is everything you said about being Aldridge’s protégé true?”
“Yes. I practically grew up in the stables.”
Dustin searched her face. “Why?”
“Because I adore horses. Because I come alive when I ride.”
“That wasn’t the question I wanted answered.”
“I suspected as much.” Nicole’s fists knotted at her sides, steeling her to deliver the necessary reply. “Which why did you require an answer to? Why am I dressed this way? Because the marquis of Tyreham couldn’t be expected to take me seriously as a female jockey. Why is my father taking this risk? Because he believes, as I do, that I’m a damned good rider. And why now? Because Papa’s life depends on it. Does that cover all your whys?”
Despite the menacing significance of her final words, Dustin chuckled. “You and Dagger should be a good match. You’re as fiery as he.”
Nicole blinked. “Nothing I just said surprised you, did it?”
“No.” He raised her clenched fist to his lips, unable to resist teasing her. “But I do think you owe me an apology for assuming I’d dismiss your riding abilities simply because you’re a woman.”
Now she looked totally stunned. “Have you given any thought to the consequences of allowing me to ride in the Derby?” Guilt tinged her cheeks as she realized how true her words were. “If not, you must. You’re renowned and
respected on the turf. You could be disqualified, penalized, if someone should see through—”
“They won’t.” His breath grazed her knuckles. “But I thank you for your integrity and your concern.” Kissing a path to her wrist, he smiled at the way her pulse accelerated at his touch. “I know what I’m doing, my fervent Derby contender. Fret not. Beneath my”—he raised his head, giving her a wicked grin—“handsome, well-bred, and devastatingly charming exterior lies a shrewd businessman, one who is hell-bent on winning. And winning means taking risks. I’m taking one with Dagger. I’m taking another with you. Both will pay off.”
“And you called me arrogant?” Nicole murmured, shivering a bit as he nuzzled the sensitive underside of her forearm. Lashes lowered, her expression was an open contradiction of dazed awareness and stubborn denial as she struggled to retain her train of thought. “Dustin, what I said about Papa—you knew, didn’t you? That he’s in trouble, I mean. Whatever occurrence preceded my arrival, it alerted you to that fact.”
“Yes. I knew.” He hesitated. “Two men called on me this morning just prior to your visit. It seems they spotted my personal in the Gazette and would prefer I not hire your father. They told me so in no uncertain terms.”
“They threatened you?”
“More or less.” A wave of tenderness swept through him at the sight of her worried expression. “Fear not, love. I can take care of myself.” His glance turned meaningful. “And my houseguests, as well.”
“If Papa and I stay here, we’ll be endangering you.”
“No you won’t.” Dustin pressed his forefinger to her lips, silencing her protest. “Guaranteed. Now, tell me what your father’s done to anger the wrong people enough to pursue him and to necessitate your taking the drastic step of masquerading as a boy.”
That distracted her, and she stiffened, sparks of anger igniting her eyes. “I’m not masquerading. Other than the difference in gender, Alden Stoddard is Nicole Aldridge. This”—she indicated her attire—“is who I am. The person you met the other night was a facade. She doesn’t really exist.”