by Andrea Kane
Nicole’s fear intensified. “Those steps can hardly be kept secret, especially in light of Dustin’s reputation on the turf. The entire racing circuit will be buzzing with news of his investigation. He’ll be a walking target.”
“That’s what he’s counting on. He wants to lure the lowlifes who threatened him back so he can follow them to their employer, then expose him. By the way, Tyreham and I compared descriptions. The men who warned him away from me are the same ones who tried blackmailing me and, doubtless, the same ones who left me that friendly greeting on Oberon’s stall.”
“I assumed as much.” Nicole clutched her father’s forearms. “Papa, this whole thing scares me to death. Maybe we should just leave matters alone, stay in hiding until more time has passed. Then you and Lord Tyreham will both be safe.”
“Stay in hiding?” Nick teased gently, patting her cheek. “And have you replace me on the turf? Never.” Seeing her ashen expression, he sobered. “Nickie, this situation won’t go away by itself. We have to put a stop to it. Now.”
“I know.” With a small nod, Nicole relented, realizing there was no choice, terrified by the prospect.
“Go have that bath of yours. The marquis will be arriving in less than an hour.”
“All right.” Uneasily, Nicole made her way from the kitchen, up the stairs to her room. Leaning against the door, she battled the apprehension that knotted her gut, reassured herself that fate would intercede and set things right.
But fate alone was too mercurial, its path too uncertain.
It needed wishes to fortify its magic.
Instinctively, Nicole’s hand slid into her pocket, extracting her wishing locket and placing it in her palm. With infinite love, she traced the pattern etched into the burnished silver, recalling that special night fifteen years ago when she’d held the necklace for the first time.
Do you like it, Nickie?
Oh, Mama, it’s beautiful. Is there a photograph inside?
No, darling, there’s a far greater treasure kept tight within this locket’s walls.
What is it? Oh, Mama, let me see.
Nicole smiled softly, remembering how she’d fumbled with the catch, mastering it at last and tugging it free.
Acute disappointment had surged through her five-year-old heart when she’d found the locket to be empty.
There’s nothing here, Mama, she’d murmured, her eyes brimming with tears.
You’re wrong, love.
I’m not wrong. It’s empty.
Only because you’re looking with your eyes, not your heart. If your heart were to peer inside, it would see that this is no ordinary locket. It’s a wishing locket. Inside is a bottomless cache made especially for wishes, with enough room for every dream you’ve ever dreamed, still more for all those wishes yet to be wished.
Really? Nicole had looked more closely. How does it work?
First, you must think of what it is you’re wishing for—and focus on it very, very hard. Then close your eyes and squeeze the locket tight between your hands. And, lo and behold, your wish will be captured by the locket’s magic and stored inside.
Until when?
Until the locket deems it time to set that wish free, and make it come true.
When will that be?
Ah, Nickie, only the locket knows the answer to that. When it decides to grant a particular wish, it will cast it from its depths, transforming that wish to reality. But you must trust in the locket’s wisdom and never stop believing in its magic.
But what if it takes years and years and years for a wish to come true?
Then that wish’s time has yet to be.
What if, in the meantime, the locket gets too crowded and runs out of room for new wishes? How will I know?
That’s part of the locket’s wonder. It never runs out of room. It can hold as many cherished dreams as can your heart.
You’re sure?
I’m sure, my darling.
Savoring the memory, Nicole gazed down at her legacy, two tears trickling down her cheeks and dropping onto the locket’s shimmering surface.
“I hope you’re right, Mama,” she whispered aloud, wiping the silver dry. “I hope my locket truly does hold infinite wishes because I have another to entrust to its magical depths.” Her fingers closed around the necklace, clasping it tightly, her eyes squeezed shut. “I’ve already prayed for Papa’s safety. Now I must pray for Dustin’s, as well. Because if anything were to happen to him …” She choked back more tears. “I couldn’t bear it. So please, wishing locket, take care of him. Take care of them both.”
At half after three, Dustin’s last thread of patience snapped.
Abandoning his drink, his study, and his pacing, he strode out of the manor and headed in the direction of the Aldridges’ cottage. Waiting was pointless. He’d done nothing but think of Nicole since morning, anticipating this mere visit with more fervor than he had all his former and most ardent liaisons combined.
Single-minded though he might be, however, he was still acutely aware that this tea signified far more than a social chat—not only to him but, for altogether different reasons, to Nick Aldridge. Nicole’s father had made it clear that this was to be a trial visit, one that would determine whether or not he would sanction Dustin’s courtship of Nicole. Further, Dustin realized that while he and Aldridge had gotten on famously this morning, Nicole’s father still viewed him as one of “them”: a nobleman and a libertine. Accordingly, while Dustin had made enough headway for Aldridge to permit today’s call, nothing more permanent than that had been secured.
In short, grudging allowance was a long way from open-armed welcome.
It was up to Dustin to convert the former to the latter.
Tread lightly, he cautioned himself, as he reached the front door. You want Aldridge’s sanction, not his censure. Go slowly, very slowly. For your sake—and Nicole’s.
Taking a determined breath, he knocked. “It’s Tyreham,” he announced after a moment’s pause.
“So I gathered.” With a terse nod, Nick admitted him, his demeanor friendly, yes, but aloof, assessing—a wary father protecting his child. “Come in.”
“I’m early—again. Is that inconvenient?”
“No. This time I expected it, so I was prepared. Have a seat.” Nick gestured toward the sitting room. “Nickie should be down in a minute. She was a bit disheveled from her hectic morning.”
Dustin paused in the sitting room doorway. “Did something happen after I left the course?” he asked, concern knitting his brows. “When I last saw Nicole, she was cooling Dagger down, looking utterly exhilarated.”
“She was. She still is.” Nick relaxed a bit, affection lacing his tone. “But riding Dagger was only the beginning. She then went on to tour your stables end to end, meet every one of your thoroughbreds, and bombard your staff with questions. She didn’t return to the cottage until well after two.”
“Ah, then she enjoyed herself.”
“She most assuredly did,” Nicole replied, descending the stairs to join them. “Thank you for the opportunity you’ve afforded me, my lord. Dagger is all you claimed and more.”
So are you, Dustin wanted to say, drinking her in like a fine wine.
Dressed in the promised breeches and shirt, her face was devoid of cosmetics, her throat adorned only by a delicate silver locket. And her hair, loose and unencumbered by a jockey’s cap, was just as he’d remembered it—a cloud of rich black silk.
He clenched his fists to keep from reaching out and running his fingers through it.
“You rode superbly,” he said instead. “I haven’t spoken to Brackley since I left the course, but my guess is he won’t stop muttering and shaking his head for weeks. That’s how astonished you’ve rendered my impervious groom.”
“Fear not,” Nicole returned. “Brackley recovered. He was quite composed when he showed me around the stables. Nevertheless, I appreciate the praise. I also apologize.”
“For what?”
&n
bsp; “For taking Dagger out without summoning both you and Brackley. It was wrong of me. My only excuse is that Dagger and I had begun to relate so well, and I didn’t want to take a chance … that is, I thought perhaps …”
“You can be frank,” Dustin finished for her. “You thought perhaps Brackley and I would appear and destroy the rapport you’d established with Dagger. And you would have been right. That’s precisely what we would have done. Hence, your apology is unnecessary but accepted. I would, however, be interested in hearing what method you used to bring my reticent stallion around. I tried everything experience has taught me and barely managed to break the surface. The fear he brought with him to Tyreham was deeply ingrained.”
“I wish I could boast some miraculous secret, but I can’t. The truth is, I’m a woman. You know that. I know that. And now Dagger knows that. Since whoever abused him was undoubtedly male, his fear does not extend to me. I had only to wait for him to perceive my gender, then coax him into trusting that I had the best of intentions. The rest came naturally.” She shot Dustin a shrewd look. “Further, I’m certain you realized all this long before I offered my explanation. You’re a renowned horseman. And, since what I’ve just told you is both obvious and elementary, I have to wonder why you asked me to clarify my methods. Is this a test of my knowledge or my candor?”
Dustin heard Nick’s sharp, astonished gasp. “Nickie …” he began.
“It’s all right, Aldridge.” Dustin waved away the interception. “Nicole’s question is entirely justified.” He met her defensive gaze. “The answer is neither. It’s my careless attempt to appear gallant by praising you. As I’ve mentioned, I’m unaccustomed to people who prefer truth to flattery.”
The fire in her eyes banked, softening their color to a warm, smoky violet. “’Tis a pity, my lord. Frankness suits you far better than artifice. You should try it more often.”
“I’ll do that,” Dustin promised. “In fact, I’ll begin right now. Might I trouble you for some refreshment—more specifically, your scones? After hearing your colorful description, I’m impatient to sample them.”
“You picked an unfortunate subject on which to test your newfound candor.” Nicole’s grin was impish. “Once you’ve tasted my scones …” She shuddered. “Suffice it to say that your eagerness will be transformed to nausea.”
“I’ll take my chances. After all, what is life without risk?”
Their gazes met.
“Very well, my lord.” Nicole looked away first, heading for the kitchen. “You and Papa go to the sitting room and await your undoing.”
“Not I,” Nick called after her. “I’ll have some of that delicious gingerbread Tyreham’s cook sent over. If the marquis chooses to die, that’s his business.”
Nicole’s shoulders began to shake. “A wise decision, Papa,” she commended over her shoulder. “I’ll bring enough gingerbread for two—plus a bit extra, should Lord Tyreham live long enough to change his mind.”
Thoughtfully, Nick watched his daughter disappear from view, then led Dustin into the sitting room. “Tyreham,” he said the instant they were within, “I appreciate your taking Nickie’s insolence in stride. I don’t know what came over her. I’ve never heard her speak that way. Oh, she’s forthright as hell, but never rude, certainly not to my employers. Or, in this case, to her employer.”
“I don’t think the remark was aimed at her employer,” Dustin answered quietly, settling himself on the settee. “It was aimed at me. Or rather, the inbred highborn in me.” A faint smile. “In case you haven’t noticed, Nicole is no fonder of the nobility—or its affectations—than you are.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed. Actually, a good part of that intolerance is my doing. And I’m not apologizing for it. The truth is, I have little regard for frivolous living and no respect for those who are uncommitted to their family and their work. Nickie’s grown up listening to my convictions and forming her own. I’m proud to say that she, too, has little use for lazy, unprincipled people.”
“Not all noblemen are lazy and unprincipled.”
“No, they’re not. Or rather, not when it comes to business. When it comes to women, however, I’ve seen just the opposite.” Nick shrugged. “At least that’s been my observation.”
“I won’t argue. For the most part, you’re right. However, there are exceptions. There are also those of us who would like to become exceptions—transgressors awaiting the right opportunity or the right incentive to reform.”
“I suppose.” Obviously uncomfortable with the turn the conversation was taking, Nick cleared his throat. “I wonder what’s keeping Nickie.”
“You forget how heavy my scones are, Papa,” Nicole replied, making her way into the room. “I could scarcely hold up under their weight.” So saying, she deposited a tray of tea, gingerbread, and what looked to be lumpy balls of browned dough, on the side table. “Refreshment,” she announced, transferring one dough ball to a plate and handing it to Dustin. “How do you take your tea, my lord?”
“Hmm?” Dustin was rotating the dish, staring at the scone in utter amazement.
“I asked how you took your tea.”
Hearing the laughter in her voice, Dustin raised his head and regarded her dazedly. “Today? Strong. Very strong.”
“I anticipated that,” she returned with a bright smile, filling his cup to the brim. “Here. Hold this saucer while you take your first bite of scone. Then you’ll be able to drown out the flavor instantly.”
Dustin nodded, biting into the scone and chewing what tasted like a clump of sand. He swallowed, gasped in a breath, then downed the entire cup of tea.
“Shall I serve you another scone, my lord?”
“No,” Dustin managed, shaking his head. He handed her his empty cup, gesturing for her to refill it.
She complied, then passed it back.
He gulped it dry.
“Is something wrong, my lord?”
Dustin caught his breath. “You don’t, by chance, employ a cook?” he croaked. “Ordinarily, I mean?”
“Of course not. Since Mama died, Papa and I have fended for ourselves.”
“How long has that been?”
“Seven years.”
Dustin shook his head in disbelief. “In that time, how is it that one of you hasn’t perished?”
“That’s an easy one,” Nick cut in. “I do most of the cooking.” He turned to Nicole. “I’ll have a slice of that gingerbread, Elf. And some tea.”
“Certainly, Papa.” Nicole served her father what appeared to Dustin to be the most magnificent piece of gingerbread he’d ever seen.
“Would you care for a slice, my lord?” she inquired, inclining her head in his direction. “Or are the scones to your liking?”
“Oh, the scones are delicio—” Dustin caught Nicole’s eye, and the two of them dissolved into laughter. “Actually,” he amended, “I’d kill for that gingerbread. This”—he gestured toward the scone—“was perhaps the most dreadful substitute for food I’ve ever tasted.” He cocked a brow. “Honest enough?”
“Bravo.” Nicole served him an enormous slice of gingerbread. “As a reward, I’m giving you the largest piece. Soon the scone will be no more than a horrid memory.”
“Nickie’s mutton isn’t bad,” Nick commented, “and she does fairly well with eggs. However, her beef is as tough as a horse’s tack, and her pastries …”
“Enough honesty, Papa,” Nicole interceded. “I think we’ve made it clear that my culinary skills are lacking.” ‘
“But your riding skills make up for it,” Dustin informed her. He placed his teacup on the table, leaning forward. “In keeping with my newly tried candor, let me say that while you were right about my guessing why Dagger didn’t fear you, you were wrong if you assumed my praise to be insincere. I never imagined you’d make such startling headway in one morning. Oh, I’d hoped that your being a woman would ease Dagger’s apprehension. But calming a horse is one thing, winning his trust and reestablishing his conf
idence quite another. Not to mention matching your cadence to his, moving as if you’re a born team when in fact you’re virtual strangers. The last is an accomplishment with any mount, skittish or even-tempered. It normally takes months to achieve. You did it in under an hour and with a very difficult mount. No, Nicole, your way with horses is astounding. Astounding and innate.” Dustin’s nod was decisive. “You and Dagger are going to win that Derby. I can feel it in my bones.”
Excitement tinged Nicole’s cheeks. “As can I. Your instincts about Dagger were right, my lord. He’s an exceptional mount—a true winner.”
“As is the rider who will inspire him to victory.”
“Thank you.” A spark of humor danced in Nicole’s eyes. “This time for praise that is not only genuine but, in my opinion, accurate.” Sobering, she chewed her lip, clearly uncertain about how to phrase her next words. “I realize it’s none of my business,” she said at last, “but who was Dagger’s former owner?”
“That’s not where Dagger’s fears originated.” Dustin shook his head, instantly grasping Nicole’s train of thought. “You’re wondering who abused him. I’ve asked myself that same question. But the mistreatment took place before Dagger’s previous owner bought him. The reason I know that is because Lanston—the previous owner in question— happens to be a long-standing colleague of mine. He told me about Dagger’s reckless nature and deep-seated apprehension. And, by the way, this situation is very much your business. Everything concerning Dagger is.”
“Lanston?” Nick put in. “The earl of Lanston?” Seeing Dustin’s nod, he added, “I ran for the earl at last summer’s meeting at Goodwood. He’s a sharp fellow. Pleasant, too.”
“He’s also a fine breeder,” Dustin supplied. “He bought Dagger at Tattersall’s two years ago. I missed that particular auction or I would have given my colleague some healthy competition. Like any breeder worth a damn, he perceived Dagger’s potential instantly, despite the fact that he’d obviously been mistreated.”