“Every bit of it,” Dustin confirmed. “Right down to eliciting the assistance of the Stewards in setting up this performance. These fine men have no more desire than I to have a criminal in their ranks.” Dustin turned to Saxon. “I presume we have enough evidence for the authorities.”
“More than enough, my lord,” Saxon assured him. “Right before you arrived at Epsom, I was handed a missive written in Blaker’s hand. He’s apprehended both Cooper and Raggert. It seems our ‘Coop’ is wanted in two English and three Scottish towns in connection with a series of violent crimes. As for Raggert, he’s terrified by the thought of Newgate and is more than happy to cooperate in any way that will reduce his sentence, including filling in any details we have yet to acquire. Archer and Parrish will be ferreted out by day’s end. And it will be my pleasure to escort the whole bloody lot of them to Scotland Yard.”
Lanston blinked, as if trying to make sense of something. “If you’ve had Aldridge all this time, why did you wait until now and go to such extremes to confront me? Why didn’t you end this weeks ago?”
“That’s the ironic part of it,” Dustin supplied caustically. “You see, Lanston, Nick Aldridge never heard your conversation with Cooper, never knew you murdered Redley. All he discerned on that day he strolled into the stables at Newmarket were two unlikely people having a private conversation. He was as bewildered as we by your sudden urge to kill him.”
With a low groan, Lanston buried his face in his hands. “Oh, my God. All the risk, the anguish, was for nothing.” Slowly, he raised his head, realization flickering in the hollow depths of his soul. “If Aldridge heard nothing, you had no actual proof of my guilt.”
“Precisely. Until now, that is. You’ve done an exceptional job of incriminating yourself.” Dustin glanced at Saxon. “He’s all yours.”
“As I said, a pleasure, sir.” Saxon grasped Lanston’s arm, led him off.
“Thank you, Tyreham.” Lord Chisward, the eldest of the Jockey Club Stewards rose solemnly. “I think I speak for everyone when I express my horror at the fact that corruption such as this was tainting the turf. But it’s over now, other than amassing the disreputable jockeys involved. Which, between the list you’ve supplied us and the results of our own investigations, we shall do posthaste. At which point the guilty parties will be dealt with—swiftly and severely. You have my word on that. Again I thank you for helping to bring Lanston to justice.”
“No thanks are necessary, Chisward,” Dustin responded. “In truth, I’m equally relieved to put this behind us, not only for the sake of the turf but for the sake of my betrothed”—he tucked Nicole’s arm through his—“and her father.”
“Miss Aldridge,” Chisward turned to Nicole, “please extend our deepest apologies to your father. And tell him we welcome him back with the greatest of enthusiasm.”
“I will,” Nicole answered faintly. “Thank you.”
Hearing the tremor in her voice, Dustin glanced over, frowning when he saw tears glistening on her lashes. “Nicole?” His knuckles brushed her cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“He beat that beautiful, spirited horse,” she replied in an aching whisper.
Dustin needed no further explanation. “Never again,” he vowed quietly. “He’ll never abuse Dagger—or any other horse—again.”
“Yes, I heard that admission as well,” Chisward chimed in, with a hard shake of his head. “And from a renowned breeder, no less. Well, fear not, Miss Aldridge. With the list of crimes the earl has committed, he won’t be free to hurt anyone or anything for many years to come.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, attempting a smile.
Lord Chisward surprised them by abandoning his ever-present reserve and smiling back. “You, my dear, are a breath of fresh air after a sordid display like the one we just suffered. Tyreham is a lucky man. I wish you the best of luck, and I look forward to making a toast to that effect at your wedding. Now, run off—both of you—and congratulate your father. He’s earned himself another splendid victory.”
“I will, sir. And again, I thank you.” This time, Nicole’s smile came naturally.
“Oh, Tyreham?” Chisward prompted.
“Yes?”
“My only lingering regret is that you couldn’t convince Stoddard to stay on and further his racing career. Is there any chance he might reconsider?”
“Doubtful,” Dustin countered soberly, wrapping his arm about Nicole’s waist. “He was adamant when he left Tyreham, wouldn’t even leave a forwarding address. He said something about retiring from the turf to pursue a long-awaited dream. No, Chisward, I don’t expect we’ll be seeing Stoddard again.”
With a resigned nod, the elderly man made to leave. “Such a pity,” he murmured aloud. “A lad like that could have become another Nick Aldridge.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment,” Dustin concurred. He arched a quizzical brow at Nicole. “Don’t you agree, love?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Nicole gazed up at her future husband, undisguised love shining in her eyes. “Being a dreamer myself, I understand Stoddard’s need to follow his.” She glanced toward the paddock, beaming as she witnessed her father’s joyous homecoming. “Besides,” she stated without the slightest tinge of regret, “Stoddard was exceptional, but, ultimately, there’s only one Nick Aldridge.”
Nineteen
LEANING OUT THE BEDCHAMBER window, the new marchioness of Tyreham reveled in the warm night air. Sounds of merriment still clamored loudly from the far grounds of the estate, equal amounts of champagne and ale being consumed as the party prevailed full force, despite the fact that the bride and groom had made their exit an hour ago.
Mrs. Dustin Kingsley.
Reverently, Nicole touched the golden band on her finger, wondering if it were possible to burst with happiness. At last, after a frenzied and interminable fortnight, she had, mere hours ago, walked down the aisle on her father’s arm and been joined with the man she loved.
The celebration that followed had been perfect, boasting a fascinating mixture of guests ranging from the distinguished Stewards of the Jockey Club to the joyful, raucous jockeys themselves.