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“He was scarred?”
“Not outwardly, no. But, according to Lanston, he was wild, unapproachable. For two years the earl tried to rectify the damage that had been done. He badly wanted to race Dagger. On one or two occasions, he actually did. But those were minor events. Lanston just couldn’t risk it. Dagger was too bloody unpredictable. One moment he was galloping like a champion, the next he was rearing, stomping, and tossing his rider. Finally, Lanston lost patience and sold Dagger to me. I was delighted to try my hand at bringing him around. Having seen him run, I knew how good he was. I was determined, come hell or high water, to transform him into the winner he was born to be. Fortunately, Lanston had made greater strides than he realized. Not once since arriving at Tyreham has Dagger been so unruly that Brackley or I couldn’t handle him. Nervous and reticent, yes. But wild? Uncontrollable? No.”
Nicole frowned. “I can’t picture Dagger being either wild or uncontrollable. He’s frightened and confused, both of which I intend to remedy. Trust me, my lord. Whatever horrible treatment Dagger received is behind him now. He’ll know nothing but respect and affection, not only from his owner but from his jockey.”
“A most fortunate horse.” Dustin found himself envying his recalcitrant stallion.
“The earl of Lanston,” Nicole repeated thoughtfully. “That name is somehow familiar.”
“You heard me say it a dozen times last summer,” Nick broke in swiftly. “Remember? Like I just told the marquis, I rode for Lanston at the Goodwood Stakes.”
“No, that’s not it.” Nicole shook her head. “I heard his name recently. Quite recently. I just can’t remember when and in what context.”
“Perhaps you heard me mention the earl to Brackley today,” Dustin suggested. “Lanston referred a superb trainer to me. Raggert’s his name. I hired him this morning. He’ll begin at Tyreham in a day or two. I think you’ll enjoy working with him—or rather, Alden Stoddard will.”
“I’ve met Raggert,” Nick said, looking strangely relieved by the turn the conversation had taken. “Seen him work, too. He’s good.”
“No, it wasn’t this morning, and it wasn’t in connection with a trainer,” Nicole maintained. “Although I’m pleased you’ve hired one who inspires your confidence. But I recall hearing the name Lanston …” Comprehension struck, followed by a deep, heated blush.
“Go on,” Dustin pressed, feeling ah equal measure of puzzlement and uneasiness. Had Nicole met Lanston during a recent racing event? He was a nice enough looking fellow—and certainly available. Had he approached her with his famous charm? “Where did Lanston’s name come up?”
“I—I’m not certain. I think it was at the stables. Yes, that’s it. A few of the jockeys were discussing him.” Nicole turned to her father. “You’re out of tea, Papa. May I pour you more?”
“Yes. Please do.” Nick thrust his cup at Nicole.
“Did the jockeys’ comments embarrass you?” Dustin persisted.
Averting her gaze, Nicole said nothing.
“Was Lanston present at the time?” Dustin’s ire was increasing by the minute.
Nicole’s color intensified.
“Tell me.” Puzzlement was gone, supplanted by icy fury. Dustin gripped his knees, awaiting her reply. Had that womanizing friend of his made advances toward Nicole? If so, Dustin would throttle him. “Have you met Edmund?” he demanded.
“Edmund?”
“The earl of Lanston. Have you met him?”
“No, my lord, I have not.”
“Are you certain? He spends a fair amount of time with his contenders prior to each race.”
“So I understand,” Nicole blurted, obviously reaching her limit. “Most of that time, I’ve heard, is spent placing wagers on the identity of your next paramour.”
Nick groaned and slid down in his chair.
Dustin sucked in his breath. “What?”
“You heard me, my lord.” Nicole poured herself some tea, her hand shaking so badly that hot liquid sloshed into the saucer. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“Nicole …” Dustin felt a slash of pain, coupled with a potent combination of guilt and regret: guilt for the fact that he was causing Nicole anguish; and regret that her exposure to the aristocracy had been sordid enough to dishearten her and to reinforce her belief that all noblemen were lechers.
Most specifically, he.
At that moment, Dustin wanted nothing more than to be able to deny Lanston’s implications, to negate the existence of the women in his past, even though their memories had crumpled to dust the night he’d met Nicole.
But the truth was, he couldn’t.
