Nicole lay a gentle hand on his forearm. “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.”
“A
H, 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 and 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.”
“Touché.” Lanston’s smile reappeared, his gaze flickering briefly to the paddock before returning to Dustin. “We’ll see who reaches the winning post first.”
“Shall we make a small wager?” Dustin asked in a silky tone. “Say, five hundred pounds?”
“Why not?” Lanston nodded, a glint in his eyes.
“Excellent.”
Another glance at the paddock. “Tell me, Tyreham, is Stoddard running only in the Derby? I understood your reluctance to enter him in any races prior to that. After all, he is new and he was training. But, with the Derby behind him, your unease should vanish. And there will be a few more days remaining in the Epsom meeting. So why not enter him in the Two-Year-Old Stakes or the Oaks Stakes?”
You greedy bastard,
Dustin blazed silently.
How many races did you intend to browbeat him into throwing?
“The Two-Year-Old Stakes is out of the question,” he said aloud, shaking his head. “It’s the day after the Derby, and Stoddard needs and deserves time to recuperate from his rigorous training schedule.”
“Perhaps. But the Oaks isn’t until the day following that. I’m sure the Stewards of the Jockey Club would permit you a last-minute addition, given your sterling reputation on the turf.”
Dustin pretended not to notice the definite tinge of sarcasm. “I’ll consider it.”
“I would, were I you. Stoddard is superb, good enough to win any number of races. Plus I’m sure the poor lad could use whatever money would be spawned by those victories. After all, he’s barely begun his career. He can’t have accumulated much of an income.” With that, Lanston’s gaze shifted, once again, to the paddock. Dustin saw his eyes flicker just before he pivoted about to casually survey the row of carriages behind the stands. “I should be off. It’s nearly noon, and I need to make certain Demon is primed for his victory. Until Derby Day, my friend.”
“Until Derby Day.” The words tasted like chalk, and Dustin uttered them automatically, his rage having been supplanted by a powerful rush of fear. If Lanston were hastening off after his subtle, but repeated, perusal of the paddock area, he must have just spied Archer and Parrish taking their leave. If so, they’d already confronted Nicole with their offer. And, Saxon or not, Dustin needed to see for himself that she was safe.
He waited until Lanston was out of sight.
Then he made his way to the paddock, mentally rehearsing the credible sequence of events Saxon had outlined for them to follow: Nicole was to feign a sore muscle. He was to respond to it and usher her out to the waiting carriage, instructing Brackley and Raggert to stay behind and tend to Dagger. With the noon hour almost upon them, Epsom was far from deserted. So, until the carriage left Epsom, nothing was to be discussed; Nicole was to remain as Stoddard, Dustin as a concerned employer, and Saxon as their driver.
God, let her be all right.
Heart pounding, Dustin strode directly toward the shadowed corner of the paddock where Nicole had positioned herself to await Archer and Parrish’s arrival.
He spied her slight form, and his knees nearly buckled with relief. “Stoddard?”
She turned, taking a few hobbling steps in his direction. “Yes, my lord?” Her voice was calm, reassuringly even. But she was white-faced, her eyes huge, and Dustin knew instantly that those filthy lowlifes had approached her.
“I saw you massaging your thigh,” Dustin continued on cue. “Did you injure it?”
“Yes—slightly, sir. I believe it’s only a strain. But I would like to soak the leg as a precaution. Saxon happened by a moment ago, and I took the liberty of asking him to ready the carriage. If you don’t mind, may I return to Tyreham?”
“Certainly.” He was desperate to hold her, ensure himself of her well-being. “The Derby is two days away. We can’t take any chances of your muscles tightening up. We’ll leave for Tyreham right away.” Purposefully, he scanned the area. “I’ll instruct Brackley and Raggert to see to Dagger.” Catching sight of Brackley, he waved him over.
“Yes, my lord?” Brackley inquired.
“Stoddard’s left thigh is bothering him. I want to have it treated at once, before it becomes a problem. I’m taking him back to Tyreham. Can you and Raggert finish up?”
“Of course.” Unaware that the injury was fictitious, Brackley gave Nicole a paternal scowl. “I thought I saw you favoring that side when you dismounted. Is it bad?”