Wishes in the Wind (Kingsleys in Love 2)
From beneath the concealing fabric came a coo of delight.
“Oh, Lord,” Ariana muttered. “Another natural-born horseman. Just what we need.”
Nicole smiled tenderly from Alexander to Trenton to Ariana. “Thank you,” she said simply.
“For what?” Trenton questioned.
“For keeping my secret. For offering me your friendship. For welcoming me into your family. And, as a result of all that, for making it incredibly easy to bid Alden Stoddard good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Raggert.” Slumped in a chair, Lanston lifted the bottle of madeira from his desk and dismissed Raggert the instant the trainer burst into the room. “I’m not seeing anyone. Not today, tomorrow, or ever.” So saying, he tossed off another in a countless stream of drinks. “Hence, you can show yourself out.”
“I don’t think you’ll feel that way once you’ve heard what I have to say.” Raggert shut the study door and crossed over to grip the edge of the desk. “In fact, I think you’ll put down that bottle and get yourself to Epsom.”
“Care to bet on it?” Lanston inquired, his voice unsteady.
“Yeah.” Raggert gave a triumphant nod. “Because I’d win.”
Lanston laughed bitterly and refilled his goblet.
“Listen to me, Lanston. Our worries are over. We’ve got the perfect opportunity to recoup your money—hell, to make a fortune. And the ironic thing is, we didn’t have to do a bloody thing. This investment opportunity just fell in our laps.”
Blinking, Lanston rubbed a hand over his bloodshot eyes. “You must be drunker than I am. Investment opportunity? Raggert, I don’t have a shilling to my name. I have nothing to wager other than the shirt on my back and the breath in my body.” A gulp of madeira. “The latter of which our friend Cooper will soon remedy. He’s probably on his way over here right now, ready to go for my throat like a bloodthirsty vulture. Well, he can slit it, for all I care. I’ve tried everything I know how to make the odds work for me—thrashing that damned stallion Dagger, who didn’t become a champion until I sold him to Tyreham, paying you to help me undermine the incomparable marquis, black-mailing every available jockey who’d take the bait. Not to mention Cooper, who’s done things that would make your skin crawl. But after that unexpected disaster at the Derby, my losses are too vast to recoup. I’m finished.” Lanston made a harsh sound of defeat. “If you think about it, it’s almost humorous. I’ve been outdone by a scrawny boy who turned out to be a hero.”
“A short-term hero,” Raggert retorted, smirking as he leaned closer. “Would you listen to me? It’s about Stoddard. Yesterday, Tyreham got the Stewards of the Jockey Club to agree to let the boy race again—today, in the Oaks Stakes. Tyreham said it was your idea.”
“It was. Have you come to congratulate me?” Lanston arched a sardonic brow.
“No. I’ve come to remind you that your filly Chloe is the prime contender in that race, especially with a bloody fine jockey like Baker riding her.”
“I don’t give a damn. And even if I did, you just told me Stoddard’s been entered. He outran Baker once; no doubt, he can do it again.”
“No, he can’t. Because he’s not running.”
“You’re talking in riddles, Raggert.”
“Then I’ll make it simple, let you know something Lord Tyreham doesn’t. As of a half hour ago, Stoddard quit.”
The glass paused midway to Lanston’s mouth. “Quit?”
“Yeah, quit. As in backed out, ran away, fled. He’s scared to death to ride since those billet straps gave out on him. I just left him. He’s so stiff in the saddle, he can’t even get Tyreham’s horse into a trot. So, rather than embarrass the marquis, he bolted.”
Lanston came slowly to his feet. “And you’re telling me Tyreham knows nothing about this turn of events?”
“Now you’re catching on. No, Tyreham left early this morning for some business meeting with his brother. He won’t be back until right before the race. Stoddard appealed to me to alert the Stewards to the situation in-order to save Tyreham’s reputation. In fact, that’s where I supposedly am right now—getting them to withdraw Tyreham’s entry so the poor marquis won’t be publicly embarrassed.”
A slow smile spread across Lanston’s face. “But you’re not with them.”
“No, instead I’m here advising you to bet a fortune on Baker and Chloe. She’s one hell of a filly, and you’re about to be one hell of a rich man.”
“The possibilities are limitless,” Lanston laughed, shoving aside the madeira. “Why, I think I’ll make my way over to Epsom early, before Tyreham has a chance to arrive and learn about Stoddard’s desertion. In addition to my official wager, I’ll make Tyreham an enormous personal wager, which the stupid, arrogant fool will take, having not the slightest idea that he’ll be forfeiting the race and all his funds.” Enthusiastically, the earl clapped Raggert on the back. “You, o
n the other hand, will soon be collecting a substantial sum as a token of my gratitude.”
“I thought you might say that.”
“I’d better bathe and get dressed.” Lanston glanced distastefully down at his own rumpled apparel. “You hasten back to Tyreham’s estate, lest the marquis return early. We can’t have him discovering our little secret yet, now can we?” A bitter smile. “But when the time is right, when Tyreham does show his pompous face at Epsom, I’ll be waiting. My good friend Dustin has quite an afternoon in store for him.”
Several hours later, Dustin was thinking much the same thing … but for reasons of his own.