Wishes in the Wind (Kingsleys in Love 2)

“Hmm?” Dustin was rotating the dish, staring at the scone in utter amazement.

“I asked how you took your tea.”

Hearing the laughter in her voice, Dustin raised his head and regarded her dazedly. “Today? Strong. Very strong.”

“I anticipated that,” she returned with a bright smile, filling his cup to the brim. “Here. Hold this saucer while you take your first bite of scone. Then you’ll be able to drown out the flavor instantly.”

Dustin nodded, biting into the scone and chewing what tasted like a clump of sand. He swallowed, gasped in a breath, then downed the entire cup of tea.

“Shall I serve you another scone, my lord?”

“No,” Dustin managed, shaking his head. He handed her his empty cup, gesturing for her to refill it.

She complied, then passed it back.

He gulped it dry.

“Is something wrong, my lord?”

Dustin caught his breath. “You don’t, by chance, employ a cook?” he croaked. “Ordinarily, I mean?”

“Of course not. Since Mama died, Papa and I have fended for ourselves.”

“How long has that been?”

“Seven years.”

Dustin shook his head in disbelief. “In that time, how is it that one of you hasn’t perished?”

“That’s an easy one,” Nick cut in. “I do most of the cooking.” He turned to Nicole. “I’ll have a slice of that gingerbread, Elf. And some tea.”

“Certainly, Papa.” Nicole served her father what appeared to Dustin to be the most magnificent piece of gingerbread he’d ever seen.

“Would you care for a slice, my lord?” she inquired, inclining her head in his direction. “Or are the scones to your liking?”

“Oh, the scones are delicio—” Dustin caught Nicole’s eye, and the two of them dissolved into laughter. “Actually,” he amended, “I’d kill for that gingerbread. This”—he gestured toward the scone—“was perhaps the most dreadful substitute for food I’ve ever tasted.” He cocked a brow. “Honest enough?”

“Bravo.” Nicole served him an enormous slice of gingerbread. “As a reward, I’m giving you the largest piece. Soon the scone will be no more than a horrid memory.”

“Nickie’s mutton isn’t bad,” Nick commented, “and she does fairly well with eggs. However, her beef is as tough as a horse’s tack, and her pastries …”

“Enough honesty, Papa,” Nicole interceded. “I think we’ve made it clear that my culinary skills are lacking.” ‘

“But your riding skills make up for it,” Dustin informed her. He placed his teacup on the table, leaning forward. “In keeping with my newly tried candor, let me say that while you were right about my guessing why Dagger didn’t fear you, you were wrong if you assumed my praise to be insincere. I never imagined you’d make such startling headway in one morning. Oh, I’d hoped that your being a woman would ease Dagger’s apprehension. But calming a horse is one thing, winning his trust and reestablishing his conf

idence quite another. Not to mention matching your cadence to his, moving as if you’re a born team when in fact you’re virtual strangers. The last is an accomplishment with any mount, skittish or even-tempered. It normally takes months to achieve. You did it in under an hour and with a very difficult mount. No, Nicole, your way with horses is astounding. Astounding and innate.” Dustin’s nod was decisive. “You and Dagger are going to win that Derby. I can feel it in my bones.”

Excitement tinged Nicole’s cheeks. “As can I. Your instincts about Dagger were right, my lord. He’s an exceptional mount—a true winner.”

“As is the rider who will inspire him to victory.”

“Thank you.” A spark of humor danced in Nicole’s eyes. “This time for praise that is not only genuine but, in my opinion, accurate.” Sobering, she chewed her lip, clearly uncertain about how to phrase her next words. “I realize it’s none of my business,” she said at last, “but who was Dagger’s former owner?”

“That’s not where Dagger’s fears originated.” Dustin shook his head, instantly grasping Nicole’s train of thought. “You’re wondering who abused him. I’ve asked myself that same question. But the mistreatment took place before Dagger’s previous owner bought him. The reason I know that is because Lanston—the previous owner in question— happens to be a long-standing colleague of mine. He told me about Dagger’s reckless nature and deep-seated apprehension. And, by the way, this situation is very much your business. Everything concerning Dagger is.”

“Lanston?” Nick put in. “The earl of Lanston?” Seeing Dustin’s nod, he added, “I ran for the earl at last summer’s meeting at Goodwood. He’s a sharp fellow. Pleasant, too.”

“He’s also a fine breeder,” Dustin supplied. “He bought Dagger at Tattersall’s two years ago. I missed that particular auction or I would have given my colleague some healthy competition. Like any breeder worth a damn, he perceived Dagger’s potential instantly, despite the fact that he’d obviously been mistreated.”