by Andrea Kane
A corner of Dustin’s mouth lifted, and he set down his cup, tugging Nicole into the circle of his arms, her back curved into his side. “Your father’s right. You’re an arrogant chit. Beautiful, and one hell of a rider, but arrogant.” He nuzzled her hair.
“Thank you, sir.” She snuggled closer, cherishing these few isolated moments alone as much as he did. “Coming from a man whose very smile causes women to swoon, I consider your praise of my physical attributes to be the highest of compliments.”
Laughter rumbled from Dustin’s chest. “‘Whose very smile causes women to swoon?’ You’ve been talking to Ariana.”
“Ariana has been pointing out the changes she sees in you. In the process, she filled me in on your varied and colorful past, yes.”
“That’s my past,” Dustin emphasized softly. “You, Derby, are my present and my future. I have changed—permanently. Wait and see. I’m going to be the most devoted, faithful husband in all of England—possibly in all the world. In fact,” he murmured, brushing aside her hair to kiss her nape, “based upon my sordid past, I feel it’s only fair that, once wed, I demonstrate my devotion to you— repeatedly—until you’re fully convinced.” His lips sought the pulse point at her neck, punctuating each word with a breath of a kiss. “I’ll use all the countless and diverse techniques I know to win you over.” A heated pause. “Every last one.”
A shiver rippled through her. “A most prudent idea, my lord. I look forward to this thorough and prolonged demonstration of your devotion.”
Dustin made a harsh sound, and his embrace tightened, all humor having vanished. “God, Nicole, have you any idea how long it’s been since we’ve been alone?”
His hoarse question found its mark, Nicole’s clamoring body screaming that it had been a lifetime since he’d held her, filled her. “Not counting these precious minutes Papa allows us? Eleven days.”
“An eternity,” he confirmed, nibbling at her ear. “Derby, if I’m not inside you soon, I’m going to explode.”
She moaned softly. “Dustin, please. Papa and Sully are right in the kitchen. If they hear you, they’ll shred the marriage license you so painstakingly acquired and call you out.”
“They won’t hear me,” Dustin murmured, unperturbed. “Sullivan arrived a mere two hours ago. He and your father haven’t seen each other in a fortnight. They’re catching up on news, paying not a whit of attention to us.” His hand slid up to cup her breast through the barrier of her shirt. “Just let me touch you.”
With a whimper of pleasure, Nicole shifted closer, biting her lip as Dustin’s thumb teased her hardening nipple.
“I love how you respond to me,” he muttered, continuing his exquisite torture until tiny bursts of pleasure began to tug at Nicole’s loins, converging in a damp pool between her thighs. Dustin groaned, somehow sensing—and sharing—every inner ripple as her body prepared to receive him. “I can almost feel you wrapped around me.”
“Dustin.” Nicole’s head fell back against his shoulder. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Touch you until you melt? Or tell you how perfect it feels when I’m inside you, buried in your softness? So hot. So tight. So wet.”
Nicole’s breath exhaled in a rush. “Don’t say things like that. I can’t bear it.”
“Wait until our wedding night, my love. I’ll say things that will make you blush—everywhere.” Turning her into his arms, Dustin raised her chin to meet his burning midnight gaze. “Don’t make plans to see a soul for the first month of our marriage,” he commanded fiercely, “because I intend to make love to you for at least that long, and that will only appease our initial urgency. After that, we’ll begin exploring every exquisite nuance in existence and invent a few of our own.”
“I think I’ll die waiting,” Nicole confessed heatedly, twining her arms about his neck.
“So will I.” Dustin’s mouth seized hers in a poignant, hungry caress.
Their kiss was interrupted by a loud knock on the front door.
Breaking apart, they stared at each other.
Another knock, equally as purposeful:
“It might be Trent. Or Saxon,” Dustin said, coming to his feet.
Nicole scrambled up, snatching her jockey’s cap and following Dustin through the hall. From the corner of her eye, she spied her father and Sully, poised in the kitchen doorway.
Dustin reached the entranceway … and waited.
“It’s Saxon,” the voice on the other side declared. “I must see you, my lord.”
Easing open the door, Dustin ensured that it was indeed Saxon, then admitted him. “What’s wrong? Is it Alexander?”
“No, my lord. Everyone is well.” Saxon shut the door, moved farther into the cottage. “Miss Aldridge,” he greeted Nicole. His gaze shifted to Nick, then narrowed as it found Sully.
“Saxon … Sullivan.” Dustin provided the introductions.
“Ah.” Saxon visibly relaxed, nodding at the familiar name.
“Saxon’s the investigator Lord Tyreham hired,” Nick explained to his friend.
“Does that mean you’ve found something?” Sully demanded.
Glancing at Dustin, Saxon waited for permission to continue.
“Speak freely, Saxon. What have you learned?”
“Thank you, sir.” Saxon extracted some notes from his inside coat pocket, his brows drawing as he scanned them. “Blaker just provided me with a report that contains precise and incriminating information. It seems that Coop—whose full name is Farley Cooper and who, incidentally, has a lengthy prison record—received a visitor today. A most prominent visitor. And while Blaker could only hear snatches of their conversation from his position outside the stable, he heard enough to know they were discussing the blackmail scheme on the turf. He distinctly heard Aldridge’s name mentioned several times, as well as those of Archer and Parrish. His impression was that plans of some kind were being made, although he wasn’t sure precisely what they were.” An uneasy pause. “One thing he was sure of. These plans—whatever they might be—involve Stoddard.”
“Dammit.” Dustin’s jaw tightened. “Who?” he demanded. “Who was Coop’s visitor?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Saxon replied simply. “It was the earl of Lanston.”
All the color drained from Dustin’s face. “Lanston?” he repeated. “You’re sure?”
“I’m afraid so, my lord. Not only that but, upon leaving the stables, Blaker stopped to make a few inquiries before filing his report. It seems that Lord Lanston owes a great deal of money—a great deal of money—to colleagues, business establishments, even employees. In short, he’s very nearly bankrupt. So the motive to blackmail these jockeys is indeed there.”
“Lanston,” Nick muttered, a light dawning in his eyes. “Tyreham, that’s who I saw that Coop person with. It was at Newmarket, maybe a month ago—no, more—it was before the first spring meeting even began. I went to the stables before dawn to check on Oberon. He’d been a bit out of sorts the last day or two. I heard quiet talking in the empty stall next to his. Naturally, I was curious who was using an empty stall for a predawn chat. So I glanced in. It was Lord Lanston and that man with the scarred arm. Obviously, they were talking about something private, because they broke off the minute they saw me. I took the hint and reversed my tracks. At the time, I remember thinking it was kind of odd for the earl to be taking up with such a lowlife, but then, who am I to figure out the nobility? I dismissed it, never gave the matter a second thought. Until now.”
“They were discussing their blackmailing scheme—doubtless in full detail,” Dustin surmised. “Why else would they take so drastic a step as to threaten your life simply because you might have overheard their conversation? Lord … I can’t believe I’m talking about Lanston.” Dustin averted his head, shaking it bewilderedly from side to side. “He and I have been friends for years.” A hollow laugh. “At least I thought so. What a fine judge of character I turned out to be.”
Nicole lay a gentle hand on his f
orearm. “Dustin, people keep sides of themselves concealed. If one of those sides happens to be ugly, that person’s character will deteriorate when he’s backed into a corner, often without anyone recognizing it. Don’t blame yourself for not seeing through the earl. He’s obviously proficient at hiding his weaknesses.”
“I was with him two weeks ago at Newmarket. We talked about …” Abruptly, Dustin went taut, and he pivoted, gripping Nicole’s shoulders. “We talked about Stoddard. Lanston asked a lot of questions. I boasted to him that you’d effortlessly take the Derby.” A muscle worked in Dustin’s jaw. “One thing about Lanston I do know—he never aspires to the mundane. Between that reality and the fact that Blaker’s report says Stoddard’s name was mentioned, I’d be willing to bet that whatever my bastard of a friend is planning, it pertains to the Derby.”
“Your reasoning is sound, sir,” Saxon noted, scrutinizing a separate page tucked amid his notes. “And this item in the latest copy of the Racing Calendar would seem to support your theory.” He extended the sheet to Dustin. “It appears that your confident assertion to Lord Lanston that Stoddard’s victory is a fait accompli didn’t deter the earl. He did indeed register for the Derby Stakes.”
“At the last minute,” Dustin muttered, scanning the information. “He entered his stallion Demon, who’s a remarkably swift mount—fast, seasoned, intelligent.”
“Who’s the jockey riding him?” Nick quizzed.
“Baker.”
“Baker’s damned good. Been around a long time. The combination of him and that stallion you just described would be enough for Lanston to take the Derby.” Nick’s worried gaze drifted to his daughter. “If Nickie weren’t racing.”
“But I am racing.” Nicole’s chin came up. “And I don’t intend to back out.”
“I don’t think they expect you to, Miss Aldridge,” Saxon mused aloud. “I think they expect you to race as planned— with one alteration.”
“They expect me to throw the race.”
“Precisely. My guess is they’ll approach you tomorrow during your final practice and pressure you to do just that.”
“Let them. I won’t cooperate.”
Despite the gravity of the moment, Saxon’s lips twitched. “I rather suspected you wouldn’t.”
“Nicole—” Dustin began.
“Dustin, please.” Nicole gazed up at him, her heart in her eyes. “Don’t ask me to withdraw from that race. Certainly don’t ask me to throw it. You and Papa know how much winning the Derby means to me. Please don’t ask me to discard my dreams and my principles.” She glanced from Dustin to her father. “Papa, I can’t. I can’t and I won’t.”
For a long moment, silence prevailed.
Oddly, it was Saxon who broke the silence. “Forgive me for intruding, my lord, but there’s another aspect of this situation we have yet to discuss, that being the matter of proof. The way things stand, we have nothing but Blaker’s word that Lanston is running this scheme. True, Aldridge saw the earl meet with Cooper, but that in itself is evidence of nothing. And yes, it’s safe to assume these criminals believe Aldridge heard far more damning information than, in fact, he did, and that they intend to eliminate him because of it. But, with Aldridge allegedly missing, no attempt on his life has yet been made. In fact, the only culprits who have inflicted actual violence—at least, violence we can attest to firsthand—are Archer and Parrish. There could be countless more offenders involved in this conspiracy, including, for example, someone right here at Tyreham. Remember, we have yet to resolve that possibility, despite my discreet inquiries. And observations,” Saxon added, with a pointed glance at Nicole. “I did keep my promise to you, Miss Aldridge. Over the past week, I’ve observed Raggert as often as I conceivably could without neglecting my responsibility to the young marquis. But, aside from being more than a tad overbearing, Raggert has done nothing either illegal or unethical. He hasn’t even left the estate, other than on his day off. So the question of how many others, and which particular others, are involved in this scheme, remains. And, to be frank, I’d like to see each and every one of them join Archer and Parrish in Newgate.” He turned back to Dustin. “Wouldn’t you, my lord?”
“You know I would.” Dustin’s eyes narrowed. “What is it you’re suggesting, Saxon?”
“A plan of our own, sir. A chance for Lord Lanston to undo himself. Let his hoodlums approach Stoddard and fail to gain his cooperation. That should put the earl in a fine state of panic. He can’t very well break into Tyreham and do the boy harm—not that any of us would allow it. So he’ll have to withdraw his mount or lose his money. In either case, he’s bound to be agitated—and vulnerable. Trapped like that, there’s no telling what he might do.”
“And we’ll be there to see him do it.”
“Precisely, my lord.”
“But there’s no guarantee Lanston will betray himself as we hope.”
“No, sir, there isn’t. On the other hand, we can’t very well seize the man with no firsthand proof of his crimes.”
Dustin nodded, weighing the options, considering the risks and the potential gains.
In the end, it was the imploring look in Nicole’s eyes that spawned his decision.
Slowly, he turned to meet Nick’s troubled stare. “If I were to instruct Saxon to move to your cottage, to travel with us to Epsom, and to remain with Nicole every minute—lest those thugs approach her—and if I were to vow that I would personally kill anyone who laid a hand on her, would you agree to let her race as planned?”
“Would you?” Nick shot back. “Given how much you love her?”
“Because of how much I love her—yes. If the conditions I outlined were implemented, I would let her race.”
Nick swallowed convulsively.
“Papa,” Nicole beseeched, her eyes damp with emotion. “The whole reason we brought Alden Stoddard to life was because you refused to do the very things you’re now contemplating I do, compromise my ethics or surrender my ideals. Can you ask any less of me than you asked of yourself?”
“All right,” Nick relented, slicing the air with his palm. “I’ll probably age ten years between now and Derby Day, but, yes. Run the bloody race.”
“Thank you, Papa.” Nicole ran to him, hugged him tightly.
Then, she stepped away, walked over to her future husband. “Thank you,” she whispered, raising up to kiss his cheek. “You’re my very own miracle, too.”
Seventeen
“AH, THERE’S LORD TYREHAM. Thank you, lad.”
Every muscle in Dustin’s body went rigid at the sound of Lanston’s approaching voice. Not that the bastard’s arrival at Epsom came as any great shock. Thanks to Saxon’s shrewd predictions, Dustin had been stationed in the stands since dawn, steeling himself for precisely this moment throughout the entirety of Nicole’s final practice. It was Saxon’s belief that Lanston would surface today, ostensibly to chat with Dustin, actually to divert his attention so Archer and Parrish could find Stoddard and do their dirty work.
Remember, my lord, Saxon had cautioned, it’s imperative that you behave as you ordinarily do. It’s completely natural for the earl to seek you out, to advise you he’s decided to enter the Derby Stakes. You’ve been friends and healthy competitors for years. In his mind, nothing has changed. Give him no reason to believe otherwise, or our entire plan will be jeopardized.
“Tyreham, good morning.”
Swallowing his hatred, Dustin pivoted, facing the man he had once called friend with a forced smile and a deceptively surprised expression. “Lanston, hello. What brings you to Epsom? The meeting doesn’t start until tomorrow.”
Lanston pointed at the course. “I’m here to size up the competition. Especially your Stoddard. He’s very impressive, every bit as remarkable as you claimed he was.”
“I agree,” Dustin managed, fighting the urge to choke Lanston to death. Reflexively, his gaze shifted to Nicole and Dagger, now cooled down and heading for the paddock, accompanied, thankfully, by Brackley a
nd Raggert. Most reassuring of all was the knowledge that, concealed behind the far end of the paddock was Saxon, pistol ready, should Nicole find herself in over her head. “Tell me, Lanston”— Dustin turned back to the earl—“Why are you so interested in Stoddard’s performance?”
An enthused lift of Lanston’s brows. “That’s the other reason I’m here—to see you. I wanted to forewarn you that Stoddard is going to have some unexpected competition.”
“Really? Who?”
“Baker.”
“Baker? I thought he was on holiday, enjoying his winnings from Newmarket.”
“He was. I convinced him to return a bit early, made it worth his while to do so. He’ll be riding my stallion Demon. After all, how could I resist your blatant challenge?”
“I don’t recall issuing a challenge.”
“Ah, but you did. Not a direct one, of course, but then that’s never your way. You boasted of Stoddard as if he were virtually unbeatable. So how could I help but try to beat him? Especially with the added incentive of Demon’s performance this racing season. Why, that stallion of mine has taken every bloody race he’s run. So, consider your challenge met, my friend. And advise your lad Stoddard the same. Baker will be riding Demon—to victory, I hope.”
“I see.” It took every fiber of Dustin’s self-control not to pound that arrogant smile off Lanston’s face.
“Tyreham?” The earl inclined his head quizzically, as if trying to discern the reason for Dustin’s uncustomary brusqueness. “Does my decision upset you?”
“Of course not.” Dustin took a firm hold of himself. He had to squelch his enmity, for Nicole’s sake. “In fact,” he added, with a magnanimous sweep of his arm, “I’m relieved as hell. Stoddard will be, too. Until now, it appeared the lad would win with such ease that his victory would be lacking in fanfare. Baker’s participation will lend just the excitement needed to make our triumph truly distinctive.”