Wishes in the Wind (Kingsleys in Love 2)

“I remember.” Triumph, more intoxicating than brandy, surged through Dustin’s veins. “You don’t wear gowns.”

“Or corsets,” she reminded him.

“Or corsets.”

Their eyes met.

“Nicole …” Her name was as intimate as a caress, deliberately used to underscore what hovered between them. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she managed.

Clearing his throat, Dustin reached behind him, turning the door handle to lead Stoddard to his future. “Have we covered everything, Derby?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Excellent. Then, let’s go. You’re about to meet your match.”

“It’s too late, my lord.” Passing through the doorway, Nicole brushed by him—and shivered. “I fear I already have.”

Six

“HOW WAS HE TODAY, Brackley?” Dustin asked, striding into Dagger’s stall. “Did our glimmer of hope hold out?”

The groom shook his head. “Unfortunately, no, my lord. When I saw you manage to tack him up, I thought finally we were making some progress. I even succeeded in walking him—calmly—for a quarter hour or so. But then I attempted to mount him and, well, he wanted no part of that. He started his usual rearing and fussing like a scared cat.” Brackley frowned. “If you’ll forgive my saying so, sir, I don’t see much chance of competing in the Derby. Perhaps if Banks hadn’t retired just now, things would be different. Banks had a unique way of soothing mounts like Dagger. I’m afraid I haven’t that same ability. And with the Derby just weeks away, I don’t know if the dramatic transformation you seek is possible, my lord.”

“Well, we’re about to find out.” Dustin gestured for Nicole to join them in Dagger’s stall. “This is the lad I told you about.” Not even a heartbeat of hesitation accompanied the introduction. “Brackley—Stoddard, our new jockey. If Nick Aldridge’s recommendation holds true, Stoddard will easily match Banks’s rapport with horses and, thus, make remarkable headway with Dagger. After which, I’m convinced they’ll ride to a well-deserved victory in the Derby.”

“Stoddard.” Brackley inclined his head at Nicole, his expression friendly but dubious. In fact, he looked about as certain of Dustin’s prediction as a magistrate being assured a pickpocket had successfully mended his ways. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Nice to meet you, Brackley—and I do.” Relief rushed through Nicole. Brackley might doubt her skill, but he didn’t doubt her gender.

The latter was all that mattered.

The former she’d combat … and rectify.

So saying, she turned her attention to the sleek challenge now stomping about before her. “Hello, Dagger,” she murmured, walking, slow and easy, toward the magnificent deep brown thoroughbred.

Dagger’s head jerked around, and he eyed her cautiously, ears erect as he listened to the sound of her voice.

“Stoddard, I don’t know how much Lord Tyreham’s told you,” Brackley inserted. “But you’ve got quite a job ahead of you.”

“The marquis has prepared me for Dagger’s skittishness.” Nicole paused, glancing from one man to the other. “May I spend a few minutes alone with him?” she requested. “He’ll trust me sooner if he can concentrate solely on me. Distractions will slow down that process. And, as we all know, we haven’t the luxury of time.”

For a long, thoughtful minute, Dustin assessed her from beneath hooded lids. Then he nodded. “All right. Brackley and I will wait in my office.”

The groom’s jaw dropped. “My lord? Are you sure that’s wise? Dagger’s a handful, even for me to control alone, and I’m twice Stoddard’s size.”

“Our new jockey is right,” Dustin replied, gazing intently at Nicole in silent conveyance of his faith. “Drastic circumstances call for drastic action. Therefore, if Stoddard feels he can handle Dagger on his own, let’s give him a chance. He’ll call us if he needs assistance.”

“I certainly will. Thank you, my lord,” Nicole responded, gratitude shining in her eyes.

Brackley scowled but said nothing further, following Dustin from the stall.

Nicole waited until their footsteps had faded into the distance. Then, she turned her attention to Dagger.

The thoroughbred stared at her, ears forward, tail swishing nervously as if he were preparing to balk at the slightest provocation.

“You’re frightened,” Nicole noted softly, wondering what scoundrel had abused this beautiful stallion to make him so apprehensive. “I’m sure you have good reason. But no one here is going to hurt you.” Inching closer, she placed a sugar cube on her palm and extended it for his inspection.