In the distance, Raggert’s head came up.
“What do you mean?” Brackley asked, rubbing his chin.
“That’s really what I came here to tell you, and what I intend to tell Lord Tyreham.” A resigned sigh. “Brackley, I’m not suited for racing. I have the skill, but I haven’t the grit or the strength. I’m totally spent from weeks of nonstop training. My nerves were raw enough just thinking about competing in the Derby. Then yesterday— well, I could have died or killed someone else. That reality did me in. Affinity for horses or not, it’s not worth it. So I’m packing away my Derby victory and bidding the turf good-bye.”
“Stoddard, you’re talking crazy. Do you know how good you are? What kind of future you’re passing up?”
A nod. “Yeah, I do.”
Brackley drew a sharp, inward breath. “Lad, the race only happened yesterday. You’re still reeling from the shock. Why not take some time off—hell, maybe even skip the whole summer racing season. Then in the fall, you can reconsider.” An attempted grin. “Not every race is as exciting as yesterday’s Derby. I’ll bet you find most of them uneventful and boring. But you’re too damned good to walk away.”
“Right now, I have to.”
“Look—I have an idea,” Brackley tried, gesturing about the stables. “I need more hands around here than I can count. How about if I arrange with Lord Tyreham for you to work with me, exercise the horses, maybe break in the new foals. Temporarily, of course. Until you feel up to racing again. The money won’t be as good as a jockey makes, but you won’t starve either. And you’ll be able to stay where you’re happiest, where you belong—around horses.”
Nicole felt a surge of warmth at the generous offer Brackley was extending—maybe even at his own expense. If Brackley assumed that taking Stoddard on meant the lad would get a portion of the work, he probably also assumed he’d get a portion of the pay. I wish I could tell you, my friend, she mused silently. But I can’t. Not yet. Still, your kindness won’t be forgotten. Soon I’ll be able to repay you.
Her own reflection spawned an inner smile. It appeared there would be definite advantages to becoming the marchioness of Tyreham, after all.
“Stoddard?” Dustin flung open the door to the stables. “Ah, there you are.” He stalked over to where she and Brackley stood. “Are you feeling better today?”
“Yes, my lord. I am. However …”
“Excellent. Because I’ve just arranged for the most extraordinary opportunity.”
“Sir?”
“During your final practice at Epsom, Lord Lanston put a splendid idea in my head. After seeing you race yesterday, I was more than eager to realize his suggestion. I’ve done precisely that. I spoke to the Stewards early this morning, and, given your superb performance at the Derby yesterday, they’ve agreed to allow us to enter the Oaks Stakes, which is taking place at Epsom tomorrow.”
Nicole blinked. “But it’s too late to enter …”
“I’ve been granted special permission. The Stewards unanimously agreed you’re too bloody good a jockey to limit to one race.” Dustin glanced at Brackley. “The Oaks, as you know, is for three-year-old fillies. I’ve entered Winning Streak. She and Stoddard will take the race without batting a lash.”
“I’m sure they will, my lord.” Brackley cast a questioning look at Nicole, who lowered her gaze to the ground.
“My family’s waiting, so I must be getting back to the manor,” Dustin concluded, apparently oblivious to Stoddard’s less than enthusiastic reaction. “But as soon as Winning Streak is tacked up, I want you to take a few trials on her. Oh … Raggert.” Dustin seemed to spy the trainer for the first time. “It’s a good thing you’re here. This situation concerns you, too, on a most crucial level.”
The trainer inadvertently stiffened.
“I don’t like to upend your schedule without notice,” Dustin continued, seemingly unaware of Raggert’s tension. “Therefore, I shan’t expect you to assist Brackley and me in working with Stoddard today, but tomorrow I have a conflict. Long before I realized I’d be entering Winning Streak in the Oaks, my brother and I arranged a business meeting for tomorrow morning. And, as the duke and his family will be departing for Broddington directly after the close of the Epsom races, there is no other time for us to conduct this meeting. Therefore, I’ll need you to oversee Stoddard during his final trial tomorrow morning. Brackley will time him. I’ll be back before the race, after which, you’re free to take the rest of the day off. Does that present any problems?”
“No, sir,” Raggert replied, nearly sagging with relief. “I’ll make sure they’re ready to do their job at the Oaks.”
“I’m sure you will, Raggert.” With a cool nod, Dustin turned. “Congratulations again, Stoddard. You were amazing.”
With that, he was gone.
“What the hell is the matter with you, Stoddard?” Raggert barked from alongside the course. “You’re riding like you’ve never been in the saddle.”
“Why don’t you stop badgering the poor lad,” Brackley asked, struggling to control his anger. “He’s obviously not himself.”
“Not himself?” Raggert blinked in astonishment. “The bloody Oaks Stakes is in six hours. All I asked him to do was trot Winning Streak over the last lap of the trial, just to give her a bit of exercise. If he can’t do that, how the hell can he race?”
“Raggert’s right, Brackley.” Nicole brought Winning Streak around, patting her neck fondly before dismounting. “It’s no use. I’ve tried, for Lord Tyreham’s sake, but I’m taut as a bowstring in that saddle. I feel it, and so does Winning Streak. My entering the Oaks is a mistake. I’ll
only embarrass Lord Tyreham, and I won’t do that, not after all he’s done for me.” She sighed, wiping perspiration from her brow. “Brackley, thank you for your kind offer yesterday morning. I might even have taken you up on it, but I can’t face the marquis. Especially not after what I’m about to do.”
Brackley paled. “Which is?”