Free To Win a Viscount (Daughters of Amhurst) by Frances Fowlkes

sex.
    “Excellent.” The duke’s mouth lifted into a smile.
    “The duke believes her to have an indomitable spirit. He also possesses a desire to please the duchess.” The earl flashed the duke a grin.
    “ My wife’s interest played no more a role than your wife’s persistence.”
    “True enough,” said the earl on a laugh. “Though I believe it is my wish to defeat Lord Satterfield’s extraordinary stallion that tipped the scales in her favor.”
    “The Marquess of Satterfield?” Edmund inquired. The only man whose interest in racing rivaled that of Edmund’s, the Marquess of Satterfield was a respected peer, a titled aristocrat who, unlike Edmund, had the means capable of supporting his hobby.
    “The very marquess,” the earl said. Rubbing his chin, he gave Edmund a scrutinizing glance. “He is not to know of Lady Albina’s place in the derby. I want all aspects of her participation kept quiet—that is, if she presses her pursuit.”
    If training the earl’s kin would elevate Edmund to a level on par with the marquess, indeed, above the pertinent peer, he was willing to accept the challenge. He may not have the fortune, but he had the access to horses better than those stabled by the marquess. He was certain of it.
    “Of course.”
    “Should the daughter of Amhurst succeed in her endeavors,” the earl continued, “she will be commended…and you will be rewarded for your efforts. Handsomely.”
    Edmund’s pulse raced in his ear. Rewarded more than he already was by charging the earl’s relation kisses for his efforts?
    “With a racing horse of your own, Mr. White,” added the duke. “Should you display the competence required to train up a headstrong daughter of Amhurst, I have full faith in your abilities to train a racing horse—and his jockey.”
    Good God . A bloody damn racehorse. Of his very own. His heart near stopped. He’d be a fool not to accept their offer, a fool who still had the ability to charge his new apprentice for his services. With the very kisses he wanted to continue to claim.
    Surely there had to be a catch. The situation, the circumstances, the prize—it was all too good to be true.
    “What of Mr. Abbot?” Not once had the jockey’s employment been mentioned. If Lady Albina were to be believed, the man was ill but certainly able to recover before the derby.
    “Mr. Abbot is visiting family in Brighton.”
    Edmund frowned. “He is not ill?”
    The earl pushed off from the desk. “No.”
    “Lady Albina believes otherwise.”
    “Because I wish her to.” The earl tugged on his cuffs, adjusting the white linen. “As head of the Amhurst name, it is my duty to protect those within my care…even if that requires occasionally protecting them from themselves.”
    Edmund nodded. It seemed the appropriate action, though he had absolutely no idea to what the earl was referring.
    Both gentlemen eyed him with speculative expressions. Resisting the urge to fidget, Edmund remained still, his hands at his sides, until the silence stretched so thin he could no longer hold his tongue and he asked, “And if Lady Albina does not win the derby?”
    The earl gave a tight-lipped smile. “I replace my jockey…and her trainer.”
    Edmund cleared his throat. Hard.
    “My advice to you is simple,” the earl continued. “If Lady Albina wishes to ride—make certain she has the skills required to win the race.”
    The duke shot Edmund an encouraging smile. “Amhurst’s stables are filled with the fastest horses money can buy.”
    The man spoke absolute truth. But it wasn’t the horses that set Edmund’s nerves on edge or made him question his abilities or chances for winning—it was the daughter of Amhurst riding on top of the beasts.
    Should she return to his stables, he had less than six weeks to train a first-place finisher. And six weeks had never looked shorter.
    …
    Edmund paced the length of the bay mare, his agitation seemingly transferred to the horse as her hooves