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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.”
“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.
