Wishes in the Wind (6 page)

“I did.”

“Then it’s not Nick Aldridge?”

“No, sir. But, according to the lad—whose name is Stoddard, by the way—Mr. Aldridge instructed him to come to Tyreham.”

“Why?”

“To fill the proffered position.”

Dustin’s jaw dropped. “You’re telling me Nick Aldridge sent a substitute jockey here in his place?”

“That’s what I’m telling you, sir. Stoddard has a note from Mr. Aldridge, which the boy insists will explain everything. However, he will show it only to you. In person.”

“I’ll see him immediately.” Dustin took two strides toward the manor, then halted. “Poole.” He pivoted to face his butler, lowering his voice to a terse, confidential murmur. “Send a telegram to Trent. Address it
only
to Trent. I don’t want Ariana to read it. It will alarm her—probably without cause. Tell him that two men were here warning me not to hire Nick Aldridge. Tell him they mentioned Alexander in their threats. Urge Trent to keep an eye on his family but not to panic. I don’t think my unwelcome visitors will dare approach my nephew—not given Aldridge’s disappearance and not if they want to live.”

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.”

N
ICOLE’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?”