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“Honorably?” Dustin added wryly. “I’m not stupid either, Sullivan. I understood what you meant. The answer remains yes.”
Sully pushed himself up a bit, ignoring the pain incited by his motion. “Then what are we waiting for? Read me that list. Then hand me that drink. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
It was nearly four o’clock when Dustin’s carriage rounded the bend and pulled through Tyreham’s iron gates.
With a final glance at the updated page of names, Dustin pondered the results of his day.
Stopping at Preighbrook had been a waste of time. The elderly viscount, who six months ago had been merely absentminded, was now totally senile, barely able to recall Dustin’s name, much less the events of last fall’s races. Questioning him had been futile.
So much for Preighbrook.
Sullivan, on the other hand, had been a great help. Not only had he added three names to Nick’s list, he’d provided an update on every jockey’s racing schedule, so that Dustin might be able to find them more easily. Armed with that, Dustin had taken his leave—but not before making the necessary arrangements to ensure Sullivan’s safety.
To that end, he’d assigned one of the Tyreham footmen, Tuttle, to remain at the cottage, tending to Sully’s needs and standing guard in the event the intruders should reappear. An unlikely prospect, to Dustin’s way of thinking. Especially given the fact that they were probably lying in wait, watching for signs of Aldridge’s appearance, or Sully’s disappearance—should he happen to recoup enough strength to dash off and warn his friend.
Unlikely or not, Dustin wasn’t taking any chances. Tuttle would remain with Sully for several days. At which time, Dustin would return, check on Sully, and apprise him of any developments in the investigation.
Despite
a fine show of bravado, Sullivan had looked relieved as hell for the precautions, thanking Dustin profusely after he’d issued an hour’s worth of advice on the proper way to treat Nicole.
That memory elicited a grin. Leaning back against the carriage seat, Dustin pondered Sully’s sage, though pointedly virtuous, recommendations. How many years had it been since anyone presumed to advise him on the handling of a woman? Further, if someone had, would he ever have tolerated such interference, much less sat still long enough to hear it?
Never—until Nicole.
As it was, he found Sullivan’s commitment to Nicole rather touching. Touching and revealing. Thanks to the injured jockey’s sermon, complete with an array of details describing Nicole’s upbringing, Dustin now fully understood the basis for her surprising ease with the male gender, despite her total lack of sexual experience. The reality was that, by growing up at the stables amid a host of men, she’d learned to regard them as family, if not in blood, then in fact.
Dustin had a sudden image of himself traveling to all of England’s stables in an effort to solicit the blessing of dozens of skeptical surrogate fathers.
Ironic laughter rumbled from his chest.
He was still chuckling when the horses came to a halt in Tyreham’s drive. Swinging down from the carriage, he glanced toward the far grounds and made an impulsive decision.
“Quinn,” he called out to his driver. “Ask Poole to have my bag taken in. Tell him I’m stopping by the stables and will be back shortly.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Dustin was halfway to his destination when he spotted the subject of his preoccupation.
Nicole.
Astride Dagger, she was cantering the length of the course, her breeches and shirt damp and clinging to her slim, deliberately shapeless form.
Pausing, Dustin watched, impressed yet again by the fluidity of Nicole’s movements, the keenness of her instincts. Head bent low, she was murmuring something in Dagger’s ear, probably alerting him to the fence they were now approaching. The horse responded instantly, gaze focused on the barrier, limbs moving in conjunction with his rider’s commands.
Nicole’s eyes narrowed, her concentration intensifying as she gauged the distance to their goal, adjusted their pace. At precisely the right instant, she acted, leaning into position and urging Dagger up and over.
He responded effortlessly, gathering his legs beneath him and sailing over the fence, landing on the opposite side without ever breaking stride.
“Splendid,” Nicole commended, giving Dagger a loving pat. Sighing, she gazed reluctantly at the position of the sun. “That’s it for today, my friend. Let’s cool down. We’ve got to rest up for tomorrow. Remember, we’ll be galloping the course with Brackley timing us. And, if we’re anywhere near as fast as I think we are, we’re ready for Epsom.”
“I agree,” Dustin concurred, continuing toward them. “You’re superb.”
“Dustin!” Nicole’s whole face lit up. “I didn’t expect you home until tomorrow.” Realizing how inappropriate her enthusiastic and spontaneous greeting sounded, she broke off, her gaze darting about to see if she’d been overheard.
“You’re safe, Derby. No one is about but us.” Dustin squelched the elation spawned by Nicole’s joyous welcome. Coming up alongside her, he matched his pace to Dagger’s ambling walk.
“Did you see Sully?” Nicole asked in a hushed voice.
