Wishes in the Wind (3 page)

Dustin didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I would if I knew what it was.” He sighed, humor eclipsed by uncertainty. “All I know is that lately everything seems so meaningless—the day-to-day rituals, the business arrangements, the competitions.”

“The women?”

“Yes—them, too.” Dustin abandoned his drink. “All in all, my life has become utterly tedious and predictable.”

“Predictable?” Trenton’s brows rose. “This from the man who changes partners more frequently than he changes clothes?”

“That’s just sex, Trent, nothing more than a pleasurable distraction. Gratifying, yes, but distinctly unfulfilling.”

“I could name a dozen women who’d be thrilled to convert that distraction into a lifetime commitment.”

“Marriage you mean?” Dustin shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ve spoiled me, Brother. After seeing what you and Ariana share, I won’t settle for less. The women you’re referring to regard me as a coveted prize. They like my money and the title Queen Victoria granted me. Well, perhaps that’s enough for some, but not for me. At least sex is honest. Fleeting, but honest. It assuages the body but circumvents the heart. Surely you recall?”

“Yes, I recall,” Trenton murmured with the quiet insight of a man who, thanks to his miraculous wife, knew the difference between lovemaking and sex.

“Then there’s nothing else to say. I’m drifting, and I know it. But for the time being, I see no alternative.”

Trenton nodded, shifting to another unsettled aspect of Dustin’s life. “You mentioned several upsets in your staff. I know Banks’s retirement comes as no surprise. Still, he’s been training your thoroughbreds since you began breeding them to race. His resignation must pose a major setback.”

“I’d be lying if I said otherwise. Banks is the best trainer in Surrey, perhaps in England. But I understand his decision. I’d probably make the same one, were I he. Trent, the man is nearing fifty. He’s got a wife, children, even grandchildren. He’s been training for twenty years, not to mention the ten years of riding he did prior to that. He’s tired. Training is grueling as hell. I can’t blame him for his choice.”

“Nor can I,” Trenton concurred. “Have you made arrangements for a new trainer?”

“I’ve interviewed five. Two of them are good. Damned good. I plan to meet with each once more. Then I’ll make a decision.”

“What about the ineffectual jockeys you mentioned?”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Every one of the last three, while appearing to offer great promise when hired, has turned out to be a colossal disappointment.”

“You’ll rectify that.”

“I already have. They’ve all been dismissed. Permanently. I’m finished tolerating indifference and mediocrity. My stables boast the finest thoroughbreds to date. I want an equally fine rider on their backs. In my mind, only one man fits that description—Nick Aldridge.”

“I can’t dispute that.” Trenton nodded his approval. “Aldridge is one hell of a jockey.”

“Indeed he is. With him in the saddle, my champions will take every race of the season.”

“Then I presume Aldridge has agreed to your terms?”

“He will. Once I unearth him, that is.”

“Unearth him? Didn’t he just ride at Newmarket?”

“Yes, brilliantly. He won the Two Thousand Guineas by at least ten lengths. I fully intended to resolve things then and there by offering him a retainer—and a small fortune—to ride exclusively for me. However, as luck would have it, he was surrounded by a mob of well-wishers the instant he passed the winning post, after which no one seemed able to find him. I even sent a messenger to his home that night, but to no avail.” Dustin shrugged. “He was probably out celebrating. I’m not concerned. I’ll find him. I would have pursued the matter further, had I not been leaving for Spraystone. Upon my return, I plan to place an ad in the
Gazette
—one that clearly states Aldridge’s name
and
the terms of my offer. I’m arrogant enough to believe he’s heard of me, and that, between my reputation and the sum I’m willing to pay,
he’ll
find
me
.” Dustin rubbed his palms together, a hint of the old Dustin surfacing in the challenging gleam that lit his midnight eyes.

“It sounds as if your tedium is about to come to an end.”

“Yes, at least in business matters.” The gleam vanished. “So, now that all my problems are resolved, we can ready ourselves for Ariana’s excellent meal.”

An enthusiastic squeal from the upstairs nursery negated that thought.

“You spoke too soon,” Trenton muttered with a wry grin. “Evidently, my son has recouped his strength. I’d best go up and hasten this bedtime procedure, lest we starve.”

Another squeal reached their ears, followed by Ariana’s soft, loving admonishment.

Dustin swallowed, oddly shaken by the tender exchange between mother and son. “Trent, I’ll be leaving Spraystone in the morning.”

Silently, Trenton absorbed his brother’s announcement. “That’s a rather sudden decision, isn’t it?”

“Sudden, but necessary.”

“Why? You arrived only a few days ago.”

“I know. And I’ve enjoyed every moment of my visit. But you need time alone with your wife and son. While I …” Roughly, Dustin cleared his throat. “I’ve a great deal on my mind and quite a bit to resolve. I’m restless as hell, which you and Ariana both noticed. I think it’s best that I return to Tyreham and address that restlessness—at least the part that’s within my ability to control. I’ve got to get on with my life, whatever the future may hold.”

“I understand, perhaps better than you think. Although you know you’re welcome here as long as you choose to stay.” Trenton placed his hands on Dustin’s shoulders, searching for just the right words. “Dustin, you, better than anyone, know how very little I believed in before I found Ariana. I was nothing more than a callous and embittered shell until that blessed day she stumbled into my life. And now? Now I’m whole. I believe in love, in trust, even in forever. If there’s hope for an unyielding cynic like me, there’s certainly hope for you.”

“Thanks, Trent.” Dustin didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “However, waiting is fast becoming more than a mere inconvenience. To quote your wife, I’m intense, impatient, and perpetually in search of a challenge. A Kingsley trait, I believe she said.”

A corner of Trenton’s mouth lifted. “Ah, but the rewards are well worth the wait. Just look at how contented this Kingsley has become.”

Warmth pervaded Dustin’s gaze. “I have. And if ever I doubted the existence of miracles, your transformation has long since erased those doubts. As for the love you and Ariana share, I could wish for no more.” He arched a speculative brow. “Now if only I were sure that wishes are granted.”

Miles away, gazing out the window, Nicole was pondering much the same thing—but for entirely different reasons.

Her eyes damp, she clutched a filigreed locket in her hand, seeing naught but dread in the starlit sky above. “I’m frightened, Mama,” she whispered to the ubiquitous heavens. “So frightened. Papa’s a wonderful man, and he’s all I have. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.” Unsteadily, she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Can you hear me, Mama? I’m wishing. Just as you taught me, I’m wishing—for Papa’s sake, and for mine. If ever I needed the magic of my wishing locket, it’s now. Please …” Nicole’s voice faltered, her fist clenched tightly about the delicate piece of silver, “please let this wish come true.”

“N
ICKIE, THIS IS NO
life. Not for either of us.”

Nick Aldridge swung away from the window, pacing his half of the room’s modest floor. “I shouldn’t have listened to you. Or to Sully, for that matter. Now I’m imprisoned in a bloody London inn, locked up like a caged rat for Lord knows how long. You and your crazy scheme.”

“It isn’t crazy, Papa,” Nicole murmured, her voice muffled by the blanket they’d strung up to afford each a bit of privacy. She stepped around it, concentrating on the unfamiliar task of buttoning up a bodice. “The rumor we started makes perfect sense. As far as the world knows, you injured your leg during the last furlong of the Two Thousand Guineas and are now recuperating outside of Glasgow, at the home of relatives.”

“We have no relatives in Glasgow.”

A twinkle. “How would anyone know that? Besides, Mama had a Scottish cousin or two. That’s why Sully and I chose Scotland. It’s a perfectly plausible place for you to visit—and remote enough to keep any potential pursuers at bay. After all, you can do them no harm if you’re away from England and the turf.” Staring at herself in the looking glass, Nicole’s twinkle vanished. “
This
, on the other hand, is totally implausible. Impossible, in fact.”

“What is?” her father demanded, still prowling restlessly about.

“Me. This gown. I look—and feel—like a fool.”

For the first time, Nick focused on his daughter. Abruptly, his pacing ceased, an odd light dawning in his eyes. “My God, Nickie. I’d forgotten … you look—” He broke off.

“That bad, is it?” Nicole sighed. “Well, ’tis a choice between this and the beige one. They’re the only gowns I own, thank goodness. Were it not necessary that I blend in with the other women and be unrecognizable as Nicole Aldridge, I wouldn’t even consider donning this absurd thing. Quite frankly, I don’t understand why women submit to wearing them at all.” She raised her pale yellow skirts, glaring down at the offensive layer of petticoats beneath. “It takes an hour to dress, after which you’re too exhausted to move, too constricted to breathe, and too unwieldy to collapse in a chair.” With a disgusted sound, she released the full skirts, letting them fall back into place. “I’ll be grateful when I’m employed, back in the stables—and in breeches—where I belong.”

Nick shook his head in disbelief. “You’re blind, do you know that, Elf? You’re beautiful. More than beautiful. Dressed like that, you’re the image of your mother.”

Now it was Nicole’s turn to look incredulous. “Papa, I believe a week in seclusion has affected your vision. Mama was a lady—an elegant, fragile lady.”

“Which you would be, too, if Alicia were alive to see to it.” He swallowed. “She gave you so much I never could—her quick mind, her love of reading, and that fanciful imagination of hers. Thank God she lived long enough for that. But she died before you finished growing up. You were a girl. Now you’re a woman. And I’m too rough around the edges to teach you anything about manners or social graces. I always assumed Alicia would do that.”

Hearing her father’s voice quaver with guilt and regret, Nicole went to him at once. “Stop it, Papa,” she said quietly, taking his hands in hers. “You know as well as I do that Mama’s death had nothing to do with the way I turned out. I’ve been in the stables, underfoot, since I could walk. The only time Mama managed to drag me away was for my studies. When she tried to interest me in more feminine pursuits, I fled the instant I could, scooting back to the stables in record time.” A small smile. “Let’s face it. I was hopeless.”

“You were also a child.”

“Not when Mama died, I wasn’t. I was nearly thirteen when she contracted her influenza. And she’d long since accepted that I was, to quote her affectionate words, ‘Nick Aldridge to be.’”

The sadness in Nick’s eyes softened to a whisper of memory. “She was so bloody tolerant. Even though my job meant she could never have the traditional life she wanted.”

“What she
wanted
, Papa, was you. She adored you just as you were.” Nicole leaned up to kiss her father’s cheek.

“She’d be proud of how lovely you’ve turned out. And she’d want me to see to your future.”

“Fine.” Nicole returned to the looking glass. “And you shall. But first we must see to yours.”

Nick’s lips twitched. “I think you should unbind your hair, for starters.” He gestured to her thick sable mane, which was twisted into an expedient but less than ladylike braid. “Try to fix it somehow. However it is that women do.”

Another sigh. “However indeed. It’s nearly dusk. By the time I finish making myself presentable, twilight will have come and gone and all the newsstands will be closed. I wonder if it’s really worth the effort just to fetch a newspaper that will doubtless offer as little in the way of employment as its three predecessors did.”

“A job will come up, Elf,” Nick soothed.

“One hopes before we run out of funds.” Nicole chewed her lip. “If we had moved to the East End as I suggested, we could have saved half of what we’re spending on this room. There’s still time to …”

“No.” Nick cut her off at once. “As it is, I worry every time you go out alone. But at least we’re in a respectable section of town, not living in a filthy hovel, surrounded by drunks and highwaymen who would do Lord knows what to you the instant you stepped out the door.” He shuddered. “No, Nicole. We stay put until you find a position.”

Nicole recognized that tone of voice and conceded at once, tugging her hair free and shaking it loose. “Then I’d best finish my chore and fetch today’s
Gazette
.”

Two hours later, Nicole was no closer to finding a copy of the newspaper than she’d been at the onset of her excursion. Further, all the newsstands had shut down, as the fashionable world shifted from day to night.

She halted on the embankment road, her stomach lurching to remind her she’d eaten nothing since breakfast.

Breakfast.

A wave of panic accompanied the more dire realization that the lateness of the hour meant all the shops had closed for the evening. Besides the newspaper, she’d intended to purchase food. She and her father were down to a half loaf of bread and a bit of smoked meat—hardly enough to sustain them beyond tonight.

Beads of perspiration trickled down her back. What was she going to do?

Think. She had to think.

Unsteadily, Nicole made her way to the roadside and drew a deep calming breath—one that was instantly thwarted by the stubborn confines of her corset. Dizziness exploded in her head, and she clutched blindly at a nearby lamppost, determined to steady herself. All around her the sounds of night were unfolding at an alarming rate, a profusion of elegantly dressed people leaving their town houses for gala rounds of merrymaking. Originally, Nicole had counted on this very occurrence when she’d planned her jaunt, knowing that the throng of aristocrats would swallow up her presence as she made her way back to the inn. But her plan would backfire if she chose this moment to swoon, for amid this crowd someone was bound to notice a woman lying prone on the roadside.