Wishes in the Wind (Kingsleys in Love 2)

Abruptly, Lanston’s eyes narrowed on the more heavily muscled legs gripping Winning Streak’s flanks. “That’s not Stoddard.”

“No, it isn’t. But then, you already knew that, didn’t you—from Raggert?”

Lanston jerked about as if he’d been struck, a vein throbbing at his temple as he faced Dustin. “What do you mean?”

“I told you, Lanston. I know a great deal about you. In fact, I know everything.” Enmity tightened Dustin’s features. “Everything.”

“He’s in front by three lengths, Dustin,” Trenton announced. “And that’s after being absent from the turf for weeks. I’m impressed.”

“Absent from the …” The earl weaved, clutching the rail beside him. His wild-eyed gaze darted back to the course and froze on the jockey who was racing Dustin’s filly to victory. “Tyreham,” he rasped, “who’s riding Winning Streak?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Who, dammit?”

“The most brilliant jockey on the English turf.” It was Nicole who answered, her chin coming up, pride and hatred converging in her tone. “My father.”

“Your father? Who the hell is—?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Dustin interjected. “I never did have the chance to complete your introductions. Lanston. My betrothed.” A lethal pause. “Nicole Aldridge.”

Lanston seemed to crumple before their very eyes. “Oh, my God,” he whispered.

“It’s too late to pray,” Dustin bit out. “Further, I doubt God aids murderers.”

“I didn’t murder anyone.” Lanston took an inadvertent step backward, looking like a trapped animal who sensed his own doom. “I know what Aldridge heard. He thinks I killed Redley, but I didn’t. Nor did I order Cooper to kill him—he took that upon himself. And he never would have if Redley hadn’t threatened to expose us. That’s the only reason Cooper silenced him. I never wanted anyone hurt. It was just the money.” He dragged a handkerchief from his pocket and began mopping at his face.

As if on cue, the crowd gave off a cheer.

“Well, Lanston,” Trenton pronounced over the commotion, “speaking of money, you’d best go home and amass yours. As of now, you have enormous debts to satisfy. Aldridge just took the Oaks—by more lengths than I can count.”

“Money?” Lanston repeated woodenly. “I’ve nothing left.”

“In that case, besides being an animal and a culprit, you’re also a pauper.” For the first time, Trenton met Lanston’s gaze head-on, letting the earl see the undisguised fury blazing inside him. “If you hadn’t already hung yourself, I’d kill you for threatening my son, you miserable bastard.”

Lanston sank to the bench. “Dustin, help me,” he managed.

“Help you?” Dustin could barely control himself long enough to bait Lanston into finishing what he’d begun: tightening his own noose. “You’re scum, Lanston. You might not have killed Redley, but you sure as hell hired men to kill Aldridge. Cooper, Archer, Parrish—they’re all out on the streets, looking for the very man who just took the Oak

s Stakes. And let’s not forget Raggert. You referred him to me, sent him to Tyreham as your eyes and ears and eventually your muscle. You ordered him to stop Stoddard from winning that Derby any way he had to. But for the grace of God, that poor boy could be dead, too. So could any of the other jockeys he rode against, had Stoddard not been skilled enough to release that saddle where no one would be struck. In short, Lanston, each action I’ve recounted translates into attempted murder.”

Without pause, Dustin began counting off on his fingers. “Now let’s enumerate your other forms of violence. You hired men to beat Sullivan within an inch of his life, then rehired them to do the same to me. You also sent a warning note to my brother, threatening his son with physical harm. And we have yet to detail the theft, fraud, and blackmail that were involved in your unscrupulous scheme to coerce jockeys into throwing their races. And you’re asking me for help?”

“It wasn’t meant to be like that.” Lanston was shaking now, dragging his hand through his hair. “No one was supposed to get hurt, only frightened enough to succumb to our demands. I explained to you what happened with Redley. Aldridge was … a necessity. I wish to God he’d never walked into Newmarket that day, never overheard Cooper and me discussing Redley’s death, but he did. Still, if he’d only cooperated with us, demonstrated his allegiance by throwing those bloody races, I wouldn’t have had to instruct Cooper to kill him. But, as things stood, I didn’t know what his position was. Did he intend to blackmail us like Redley did? Or worse, did he intend to use the truth about Redley’s death to undo us, turn us over to the authorities? I agonized over these questions for days, gave Aldridge every chance to change his mind, but he didn’t. Instead, he disappeared. So what choice did I have? I had to have him found and eliminated. As for Stoddard, I told Raggert not to hurt him, only to stop him.”

“And how did you intend for him to do that—with a polite request?” Dustin shot back incredulously. “You’re twisted, Lanston, deluding yourself into believing that paying others to kill isn’t the same thing as killing. But it is. You’re as guilty as Cooper and Raggert.”

“No, I’m not. I never killed anyone. I couldn’t kill anyone. It’s just that I’m drowning.” Lanston’s voice took on an hysterical tone. “I have more outstanding notes than I can count. Everywhere I turn, I owe hundreds of pounds. I tried everything, but time after time I encountered failure. Even with that bloody stallion. I bought him, beat him into compliance, and what was the result? For me he was a savage, for you he became a Derby winner. I sent Raggert to Tyreham not to harm anyone but to study your breeding methods, keep me apprised of your latest contenders, and hold you back long enough for me to win some races, recoup some of my losses. With Aldridge unavailable, I expected it to be easy. Then Stoddard showed up and ruined everything.”

“You didn’t anticipate Stoddard’s level of skill, did you?” Dustin grilled. “Nor did you expect him to refuse Archer and Parrish’s offer. Just as you didn’t expect Nick Aldridge to be so principled that he’d rather desert the turf than cooperate with criminals. But then, why should that surprise me? You can’t understand principles, Lanston. You have none.”

Lanston emitted a strangled sound. “It was survival, Dustin. Please … you must understand.”

“Oh, I understand, all right.” Dustin pivoted in his seat, glancing behind him to receive Saxon’s definitive nod. “We all understand.” he added, pointing.

Following Dustin’s gesture, Lanston leaped to his feet, becoming aware of his surroundings for the first time. He blanched as Saxon stepped away from his box, revealing the men his presence had concealed, the Stewards of the Jockey Club. Behind them, and all around the Kingsley box, clusters of noblemen muttered among themselves, shaking their heads in disgrace.

Dazedly, Lanston looked at Dustin. “You planned this?”