Wishes in the Wind

  “You’re right, we should, but not about Saxon.” With that, Dustin scooped her up—ignoring the twinges of pain that resulted—and made his way across the room. Reaching the cushioned armchair, he seated himself, Nicole settled comfortably on his lap. “There.”

  She blinked. “There … what?”

  “There—you’re not budging and we’re not digressing until we’ve had our discussion. And I don’t mean about the crimes of the turf.”

  Nicole leaned back, regarding him from beneath the brim of her cap. “You really mean that.”

  “I really mean that. It’s time we talked about us—about our future. We’ve waited too long already.” Dustin angled her face to his, his midnight eyes dark with emotion. “Nicole, when you left me this afternoon and that brandy took effect, I slipped into a kind of half slumber. Do you know what I dreamed?”

  Mutely, she shook her head.

  “I dreamed you were carrying my child.”

  “Oh God.” Nicole began to tremble. “I hadn’t even considered …” She swallowed. “I was so preoccupied with my own feelings, I never even pondered the fact that I might be …”

  “Does the possibility upset you?”

  Two tears slid down her cheeks. “No,” she whispered with aching candor. “It doesn’t.”

  He kissed the tracks of her tears. “Shall I tell you how it makes me feel? Ecstatic. Elated. Awed and humbled all at once.” His lips sought hers, brushing once, twice, feathering over her cheeks and nose, returning to her mouth in a whisper of a caress. “Tell me, darling,” he breathed into her parted lips, “what events can I change, wrongs can I right, inequities can I balance? Tell me and I’ll make them happen.”

  Forever, Nicole wanted to shout. I want forever—and all that goes with it.

  Slowly, she drew back, determined to follow through as she’d intended. Nothing had changed, other than the wonderful new awareness that she might be carrying Dustin’s child. And that awareness should only serve to strengthen her resolve. She belonged with Dustin—on whatever terms he would have her.

  Her fingers clenched tightly in her lap. “Before I tell you my dreams, before you enumerate all the dragons you’re willing to slay for me, there’s something you should know, something that might make your sacrifices a little less drastic, your decisions a bit easier.”

  One dark brow rose. “Go on.”

  “Do you remember my saying I’d never be your mistress? That I’d never accept such a role, cherished or otherwise?”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, I’ve changed my mind.” She gazed up at him, her emotions bared for him to see. “Pride, ideals, even wishes vanish in the wake of feelings such as these. The simple truth is, I love you. I don’t want to live without you. So I’ll take my chances, be anything you want me to be, and pray that your love for me will endure.”

  Something profound flashed in Dustin’s eyes. “Thank you, Derby. That’s the most beautiful gift I’ve ever been given. Unfortunately, it’s not enough.”

  She blinked.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he continued, his voice hoarse with emotion. “But I won’t settle for some. I want it all—marriage, children, grandchildren—and I want it with you. I want to put my ring on your finger and shout to the heavens that you’re mine. I want to take you to bed and pour my soul into yours, hoping each time that our child is being conceived, a child born of the miraculous love his parents have for each other. I want to live with you, laugh with you, grow old with you. I want to awaken each morning with you beside me and go to sleep each night with you in my arms. No, Nicole—” Dustin shook his head definitively. “I won’t settle for having you as my mistress. I want you for my wife. Marry me.”

  Nicole drew a shuddering breath. “Marriage is forever, Dustin.”

  “So are we.”

  “Forever is a long time.”

  “Not nearly as long as waiting for it.”

  A choked sound escaped Nicole’s lips. “I won’t share you,” she whispered shakily.

  “I don’t want to be shared. I don’t want other women. I want only you. It’s been that way from the moment we met. It will be that way for the duration of time.”

  “What if I’m unable to make the transition from stables to manor? I know you insist titles mean nothing to you, and I believe that they don’t. But, dear God, Dustin—a marchioness. I’m totally unprepared …”

  “Fine. I’ll renounce my title.”

  “You’ll what?”

  “Renounce my title. Relinquish it. Give it up. Although, in my opinion, you’d make the most spectacular of marchionesses. Still, if it causes you distress, consider it done.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. Her Majesty, of all people, will understand. She loved the prince consort with all her heart.” Dustin gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “So much for my title and my way of life. What other supposedly insurmountable obstacles are troubling you? Ah, the parties. I’ll decline them all. The ton? I’ll snub them. I’ll even burn all my money if it will make you feel better. We can buy a farm, raise horses, live without servants or visitors. You can wear breeches every day, sleep naked in my arms each night …”

  “Stop.” Nicole pressed her fingers to his lips, too shaken to speak. She’d known he loved her, but never in her wildest imaginings had she fathomed the depth of that love, the enormity of what he’d be willing to sacrifice. God, she had to be the luckiest woman alive.

  Abruptly, all her apprehension vanished.

  “I don’t want any of those things,” she whispered, willing him to see beyond the words, to feel the wealth of emotion that spawned them. “I just want you—as you are.”

  Perception ignited Dustin’s eyes, eased the rigidness from his shoulders. “Would you reconsider the part about sleeping naked in my arms each night?”

  She gave him a watery smile. “Well, perhaps that.”

  “Nicole.” He kissed her fingertips. “Say yes. Say it and by month’s end you’ll be Mrs. Dustin Kingsley.”

  “By month’s end?” That made her start. “Dustin, that’s five days after the Derby.”

  “All right,” he conceded reluctantly. “I’m not unreasonable. I’ll give you a fortnight to recover from the Derby or from the day we resolve the crimes plaguing the turf—whichever is sooner.”

  Joyous laughter bubbled up inside her, spilled out. “That’s not unreasonable?”

  “Very well, it is.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “But as you noted earlier today, the Kingsley men are unnervingly single-minded when we want something badly enough, and I want you more than life itself. I intend to make you my wife—before you change your mind, before you conjure up new and equally nonexistent differences between us that would preclude our happiness.”

  “I have no other differences to name,” she reassured him, wondering if it were possible to explode from exhilaration. “You’ve obliterated them all, just as you promised.”

  “I have, haven’t I?” A self-satisfied grin. “To continue. I’ll go to your father at dawn, secure his permission and his blessing. Then, I’ll arrange for a special license to be delivered posthaste so it’s ready and waiting. In the meantime, you make whatever wedding plans you choose. Large, small, formal, informal—I’m amenable to whatever sort of ceremony and reception you want. So long as when it’s over, you’re mine.”

  “I’d like a church wedding,” Nicole answered softly, laying her cheek against his robe. “And a reception right here at Tyreham, but not in the manor.”

  “In the stables?” he queried huskily.

  “Close. On the grounds. Where you and I walked, and rode, and created our first memories. At twilight. With all those we love present—our families, our friends, and the stars that brought us together.”

  “And your wishing locket?”

  “And my wishing locket.”

  Smiling, Dustin wrapped his arms about her in a way that clearly stated he meant never to let go. ??
?Am I going to have to prove myself to dozens of indignant jockeys and other assorted horsemen who love you as Sullivan does?”

  “No. All they’ll have to do is look at me to see how happy you’ve made me, and they’ll welcome you with open arms.”

  “That’s a relief.” He rested his chin atop her cap. “Anyone else you’d like to invite?”

  “Mama,” Nicole managed in a choked voice. “But she’ll already be there. As will your parents,” she added, tilting her head back to gaze up at him.

  “I love you.” Dustin’s breath grazed her lips. “I’ll spend forever fulfilling your wishes.”

  “I love you, too.” Nicole twined her arms about his neck. “And speaking of forever, my answer is yes.” She smiled against his mouth. “After the Derby, Stoddard plans to retire, which is just as well. Because, all of a sudden, I find myself surprisingly eager to become the marchioness of Tyreham.”

  Sixteen

  THE EARL OF LANSTON stepped gingerly into the stable, frowning at the muck that settled around his shoes, the stench that greeted his nostrils. It was a damned good thing he only had to come here once in a long while. More than that, he couldn’t abide.

  “Where are you, Cooper?” he called.

  “I’m here. Hold on a minute.” Coop stepped out of a stall, wiping his hands on the sides of his breeches, and leveling an ice blue stare at his visitor. “Well, I was wondering when you’d finally get here. The Derby’s in three days. I haven’t seen a sign of Raggert since he showed up on my doorstep over a week ago. What the hell’s going on? How do you want this handled?”

  “Raggert was a bit put out by the reception you gave him. He came directly to me with his report.”

  “The reception I gave him? Hell, Lanston, it was the middle of the night. What did he expect?”

  “He was just doing his job, Cooper. In case you’ve forgotten, he works for me. As you do.”

  Coop wiped sweat from his face, a lethal glint flashing in his eyes. “Whatever you say. So what did Raggert tell you?”

  “First of all, it appears Archer and Parrish were successful. Tyreham has restricted himself to licking his wounds and preparing his contender for the Derby. He’s made no further inquiries into the situation on the turf. So, for the time being, that’s one less noose around our necks.” The earl shifted his weight, scowling as he sank deeper into the ground. “Don’t you ever clean this place?”

  “It’s a stable, Lanston, not a ballroom.” Coop massaged his forearm. “So we’re rid of Tyreham—for now. What about his jockey?”

  A scowl. “Unfortunately, it appears Stoddard is every bit as good as Tyreham boasts. Arrogant, but good. Raggert detests him.”

  “Raggert hates anyone who’s got a better way with horses than he does.”

  Lanston shrugged. “In any case, Raggert’s been studying Stoddard for weeks, hoping to detect a weakness in his technique—something we might use to our advantage—but the blasted boy seems to be a model horseman.”

  “So we need him in our corner is what you’re saying.”

  “Exactly. You and I both know my horse must win that Derby. Our pockets are counting on it.”

  “Are you sure your mount’s good enough?”

  “Oh, he’s good enough, all right. Demon is as fast as they come. As is Baker, who’s riding for me. Without Stoddard for competition, we’ll win by a dozen lengths.”

  “Then we’ve got to bring Stoddard around.”

  “Indeed. I don’t think it will be a difficult task. To begin with, Archer and Parrish will have no trouble finding him for their little talk. Stoddard practices at Epsom daily, accompanied by Tyreham and Brackley. Tomorrow Raggert will be joining them as well, supposedly to provide last-minute suggestions.”

  “Supposedly,” Coop repeated. “I take it you want him there for another reason.”

  “I certainly do. Tomorrow is the final day of Stoddard’s test trials. The Epsom meeting begins on the twenty-fifth, which will preclude further practices. Thus, tomorrow is also the day for Archer and Parrish to pose their business arrangement to Stoddard. And I want Raggert to overhear the outcome of that chat.”

  “What if the outcome isn’t to our liking?”

  “Should that happen—and I don’t believe it will—I’ve made provisions to ensure the race anyway.”

  “Yeah? How?”

  “That’s my concern, not yours.”

  Coop’s mouth thinned into a menacing line. “Getting paid is my concern.”

  “You’ll get paid, Cooper,” Lanston assured him. “We’ll all get our long-awaited money.” Pensively, he smoothed his neck cloth. “Now, to continue: I intend to be in the stands at Epsom tomorrow morning to keep Tyreham occupied. Instruct Archer and Parrish that they’re to waylay Stoddard during that time. Tell them to make the offer attractive and the alternative terrifying. My guess is, the lad will be an easy target. He might love his work, but he’s poor, he’s naive, and he’s alone. With the right incentive and the appropriate threat, he should give us no trouble.”

  “That’s what you said about Aldridge.”

  Lanston bristled. “Aldridge was an entirely different matter. He’s an established jockey, perhaps the finest one on the turf. He was seasoned, financially secure, and disgustingly ethical. Tact was what was needed to sway him, something you and your lowlifes lack. I should have handled that one myself.”

  “Really?” Coop bit out. “How? By marching into the paddock and announcing you’re running this whole scheme? By telling everyone you’d have been bankrupt if you hadn’t recouped your losses from this illegal operation? Now that would have given you high marks at the Jockey Club.”

  “Shut up, Cooper.” Beads of perspiration dotted Lanston’s brow. “I may be a thief, but at least I’m not a killer.”

  “No?” Coop inquired in a low, taunting voice. “Funny, I thought that was what you meant to do to Aldridge when you got your hands on him.”

  “Damn you.” The earl took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. “If you hadn’t murdered Redley, I’d never have to—”

  “If I hadn’t murdered Redley, he’d have blackmailed us out of every pound we earned or turned us over to the magistrate,” Coop snarled. “So shut your bloody aristocratic mouth. I did what had to be done and took care of the whole thing without dirtying your noble hands. The entire procedure will repeat itself when we find Aldridge—this time with your blessing. So let’s stop playing games, Lanston. Just do what you do best—issue the orders, let me carry them out, then pay me.”

  “If the process is that simple, why haven’t your men found even a clue as to Aldridge’s whereabouts?”

  “Because you wanted the cheap way out. Because, as you well know, Archer and Parrish are brainless fools, useful only for browbeating terrified jockeys. Let me handle the job alone. I cost a lot more, but I’ll get it done—fast.”

  Lanston wet his lips. “How much and how long?”

  “Twice what you’re paying them, plus the cut I usually get for being the middleman. Give me a week once we’re done at Epsom. Not only will I find Aldridge, I’ll eliminate him.” A scathing laugh. “And you’ll never have to hear the details or feel guilty when you go to church.”

  “All right. Do it.” Lanston dragged a shaking arm across his brow. “But I can’t stop wondering—what if Aldridge didn’t hear us talking at Newmarket? What if he has no idea you killed Redley? What if we’re murdering the man for nothing?”

  Coop spat at the ground. “We’ve been over this a dozen times, Lanston. I don’t know if Aldridge heard us or not, but he sure as hell saw us. And that’s enough to make him one big walking risk.”

  “If he knew something, wouldn’t he have gone to the authorities by now?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. It depends on how scared he is. It’s a hell of a lot easier to disappear than to die.”

  “But he didn’t disappear, at least not immediately.”

  “He was probably hoping we hadn’t noticed him
that day at Newmarket. Even when Archer and Parrish started pressuring him into throwing races, he most likely prayed he was only another jockey on our list, instead of a potential obstacle whose loyalties we were testing. But once Parrish painted that death threat on the stall, he knew we were after him. He panicked and bolted.”

  “If only he’d agreed to throw those damned races, then we’d be certain he wasn’t a threat to our discovery.”

  “But that didn’t happen. Aldridge refused to cooperate. And we don’t know if it was just his damned ethics standing in the way, or something more, something he meant to hold over our heads—like murder.” Coop spat again. “Take my advice, Lanston. Shed your conscience. Newgate’s an ugly place. I’ve been there. I know.”

  “Hell,” Lanston muttered, rubbing his throbbing temples. “One damned meeting. One. In all these months. I was so careful about where and when. Ten full days before the onset of the first spring meeting. At bloody dawn. No one was about. We were at the far end of the stables in a deserted stall. Why the hell did Aldridge have to pick that time to check out his mount?”

  “He’s the finest jockey on the turf, remember?” Coop mocked. “And soon he’ll be the deadest.”

  “Enough!” Lanston exploded. “I’ve agreed to let you take care of him. I’ve offered you an exorbitant sum to do it quickly. But that doesn’t mean I have to listen to the details.”

  An evil sneer. “Suit yourself.”

  “I intend to. In the interim, we’ve got the Derby to focus on and to win. Contact Archer and Parrish. Get them to Epsom tomorrow by seven A.M.”

  “They’ll be there.”

  “Good. I’ll be in touch.” Lanston turned on his heel and strode away.

  Blaker flattened himself against the stable wall, waiting only until the earl had climbed into his phaeton and urged his horses off, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

  Then he slipped off to report to Saxon.

  “Do you know, my lord, you’re surprisingly good for an amateur—an amateur horseman, that is.” Nicole’s eyes danced as she handed Dustin a cup of tea, then lowered herself to the settee beside him. “This morning, I only beat you by five lengths, and that included the two times you managed to edge me away from the railing and the three times you cut me off. That was a fine improvement from yesterday, when I beat you by seven lengths, and you had to work considerably harder to impede my concentration and my speed. Of course, I’m sure you would have progressed far beyond that point had your wounds not precluded your beginning our challenging sessions until five days ago, rather than the originally scheduled eight.”