Page 606 of From Rakes to Riches

Rake twisted at the waist and registered his sister moving toward him, a broad, happy smile on her face.

She stepped in front of him and stopped him in place, a single eyebrow lifted in question. “You have a face like a thunderstorm, Rake,” she said, entirely unbothered. “That concerned Dido is going to best your Hannibal?”

Rake grunted. If there ever was a time he wasn’t in the mood for his sister, this would be it. Deverill had moved from his place at the railing and was presently walking with his harem of married ladies toward a row of seating.

As quickly as it had come, the impulse to confront the man faded. He hadn’t the faintest interest in talking to Deverill. The man wouldn’t be telling Rake anything he didn’t already know.

Gemma was his spy.

And, like that, the last of her puzzle pieces had fallen into place.

Artemis grabbed his upper arm and tugged. “Come, let’s get to our horses. The man with the starting gun is walking toward the line.”

Outside, they jostled through the dense crowd to the stretch of railing where the groom waited with their hunters. Julian and the Duchess of Acaster were just riding up to meet them.

For the first time, Rake looked at the duchess—really looked at her—and, at last, saw her for who she truly was.

Perfection.

The Duchess of Acaster was perfect.

He understood it to his bones.

Even as other parts of him—namely, the part beating in the center of his chest—soundly rejected the notion.

Hearts could be slow to catch up.

Mounted on her horse, wearing Ashcote Hall’s colors of ivory and pink in the form of an ivory riding habit and dashing pink sash, sat a woman who would never make a fool of him.

This was the woman he was supposed to marry.

The order of the universe all but demanded it. And yet…

Until ten minutes ago, he’d been determined to turn the universe topsy-turvy for a different woman.

Perhaps…

His heart, it seemed, still held out hope.

Perhapsthere was an explanation.

Perhapsshe’d spoken the truth and Deverill was only a friend of her brother’s.

At that moment, the man emerged from the grandstand. There strode a chancer who had climbed into the upper echelon of society through hard work and tireless scheming. He wasn’t a man who collected friends.

He was the sort of man who collected enemies.

Rake certainly considered him so.

“Oh, Rake,” Artemis called out in a sing-song voice. “Get a move on, will you?”

He tore his gaze from Deverill and found Artemis, Julian, and Celia staring down at him from their mounts with varying expressions of curiosity. Julian looked the most concerned, while the duchess looked the most assessing. Artemis simply wanted to get a move on, and, in fact, was already doing so.

Rake mounted Moonraker and set off toward the midpoint of the Rowley Mile. For this course, the first two furlongs ran flat, followed by the downhill penultimate furlong that bottomed at “The Dip,” leaving the horses to race uphill for the final furlong stretch and finish.

The Two Thousand Guineas was a tough, thrilling race, and only the horse with the most heart went the distance to a win.

As they passed the starting line, he caught a glimpse of his colors.Gemma.She appeared to be exchanging words with Dido’s jockey. Artemis noticed. “Do you know what that’s all about?” she called out.

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