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“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?”
