Page 607 of From Rakes to Riches

Rake shook his head, but he knew. The man held a crop in his hand. Gemma wouldn’t like that.

But that wasn’t his main concern.

Gemma…A riot of emotions flooded him at the sight of her.Joy… anger… uncertainty…

Was she a spy? Or…

Was she his?

A silken rainbow of colors shone on horses and jockeys in the sunlight, reckless exhilaration charging through the air. The moment they’d all been waiting for was nigh.

Gemma and Hannibal took their place to the outside, as the others found their preferred spots. With Thoroughbreds being a particularly high-spirited breed, most didn’t take kindly to close quarters. He understood Gemma’s wisdom in taking Hannibal to the outside, but they would have their work cut for them. This was a fast group of horses.

A few minutes later, Rake held a spyglass to his eye, awaiting the starting gun with bated breath and racing heart, like everyone else. From this distance, one couldn’t hear the commands being issued, but it was clear to see—the next command would be the firing of the gun.

A thought strayed in—if Gemma was Deverill’s spy, would she throw the race?

After all, she’d offered him her body and used it to gain access to his secrets. What lengths wouldn’t she go to?

Quick on the heels of those questions came a certainty.

No.

Her love for Hannibal was real—even if everything else had been a sham.

Sudden smoke plumed the air gray, followed an instant later by the sound of the gun.

The race was off.

Except, it wasn’t.

A second firing quickly followed, signaling a false start.

“Oh, here we go,” said the duchess on a resigned sigh.

Artemis met Rake’s gaze. “Do you think the blacklegs caught wind of Dido and bribed the starter?”

“Not necessarily,” supplied Julian. “They always bribe the starter. I predict at least two more false starts before we’re off.”

A small, worried frown pulled at Artemis’s mouth.

“They’re trying to see who they can rattle, that’s all,” said Rake to ease her nerves.

But his words did nothing to calm his own.

Dido would be rattled.

He shifted the angle of his spyglass and found Gemma, leaning over Hannibal, murmuring into his ear, keeping him steady. She would see him through to the finish.

He found it hard to believe such a woman could contain an ounce of duplicity.

It had to be a misunderstanding.

One they would clear up after the race.

Julian, it turned out, had been correct. Two more false starts were fired. Then it wasn’t only horses and riders becoming increasingly fractious, but also the crowd. With all the money that swirled around racing meetings, the blacklegs seized control where they could, usually through bribes, poisonings, lamings, fraudulent betting…and the list went on. They found the shadowy spaces between the Jockey Club’s lines of control, keeping one step ahead of the laws, until they were eventually caught out.

Then they reassessed and started a new connivance from a fresh angle, ruthless in their pursuit of a shilling.

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