His mood was buoyant as he settled himself in the box at Epsom, leaving two empty seats between Trenton and himself. “Today’s events are going to yield wonders,” he informed his brother. “I’m feeling extraordinarily lucky this afternoon.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” It was Lanston who answered, having sprinted over the instant he saw Dustin and Trenton arrive, before they had time to learn of Stoddard’s unexpected departure from the turf. “I’m feeling much the same.” A cocky grin. “I’ve come to congratulate you on taking my suggestion and entering Stoddard in the Oaks. I’m sure it will prove to be a lucrative move.”
“Ah, so you heard about that,” Dustin replied. “Well, I have you to thank for the idea. As you pointed out, Stoddard is far too splendid a jockey to restrict to one race.” Glancing down at the list of scheduled entrants, he added, “I see Baker is running for you again, astride Chloe—a wise choice.”
“She’s magnificent; a perfect racehorse. I’ve just wagered a small fortune on her victory.”
“Really? Even knowing Stoddard’s racing Winning Streak against her?”
A smug nod. “As I said, I’m feeling lucky today. Speaking of which, shall I pay you what I owe you for the Derby?” Lanston reached into his pocket, then paused. “Or shall we raise the stakes and wager it all on the Oaks?”
“Raise them to what?”
“Oh, say fifty thousand pounds.”
“Fifty thousand pounds?” Dustin’s brows shot up, as did the volume of his tone. “You are feeling lucky.” He turned to the cluster of noblemen behind him. “What do you suggest, gentlemen?”
“Go for it, Tyreham,” one of them declared with a chuckle. “Even if you lose, you’ll never miss the money. Besides, it will make the race that much more interesting for us.”
A murmur of agreement from the surrounding group.
With a good-natured grin, Dustin extended his hand to Lanston. “Why not,” he determined with a flourish. “It’ll be gratifying as hell to beat you twice during the course of one meeting.”
“If you beat me,” Lanston qualified, shaking Dustin’s proffered hand with an equal measure of exuberance.
“The flag is about to go down,” Trenton observed, glancing about. “I wonder where Ariana and Nicole are?”
“Nicole?” Lanston inclined his head quizzically in Trenton’s direction. “Who is … ?”
“Here they are now.” Dustin gestured, and he and Trenton came to their feet as the two women approached. “We were getting concerned about you.”
“I’m sorry, darling,” Nicole said sweetly, letting Ariana precede her, then taking the seat beside Dustin’s. She smoothed her skirts, glancing up in time to see the flag descend and the race commence. “Ariana and I stopped by to wish Papa luck.”
“He won’t need it,” Dustin assured her. Capturing her hand in his, he brought her attention to their guest. “Nicole, I think it’s time you met the earl of Lanston.”
“Lord Lanston.” Nicole acknowledged the introduction with a cool nod.
“My, my.” Lanston stared, making no attempt to disguise his openly sensual appraisal.
Dustin’s fingers tightened around Nicole’s. “Lanston, I’d strongly suggest you erase that provocative expression from your face. Nicole is my betrothed.”
“Your betrothed?” That surprising piece of news diverted Lanston’s attention—both from his hungry assessment of Nicole and from the race. “When did this happen? I knew nothing about it.”
A warning glint flashed in Dustin’s eyes. “Ah, that’s because I know far more about you than you do about me.”
A shout from the crowd made Lanston whip about, alerted him to the unexplained excitement rippling around him, as well as the status of the ongoing race.
Awareness dilated his pupils. “Who’s that in front?”
“Hmm?” Dustin was deeply absorbed in the race. “Why, Winning Streak, of course.”
“Winning Streak?” Lanston turned sheet white.
“Lanston, I’d suggest you get your pound notes ready,” Trenton recommended icily, staring straight ahead, seemingly mesmerized by the event. “Winning Streak is already leading by a full length.”
Sweat drenched Lanston’s brow. “But I thought …”
“You thought?” Dustin prompted.