Page 496 of From Rakes to Riches

Gem shrugged, unbothered by the question.

Right.

“We have one thing to sort,” mumbled Gem.

“What’s that?”

A canny glint entered the lad’s eye. “My pay.”

Rake should’ve seen this coming. He couldn’t very well pay a jockey a stable lad’s wages.

“And,” continued Gem, “what’s my cut when Hannibal wins?”

Bold.That was certainly one word for this newly minted jockey.

Rake could appreciate it. Hannibal wouldn’t beat a talented field of Thoroughbreds with a mouse for a jockey.

He didn’t hesitate. “Ten percent of the purse if you take it.”

Gem’s eyes went wide. “Two hundred pounds?” His head cocked, suspicion in the angle. “Why would you do that?”

“The Two Thousand Guineas is a steppingstone. We’re going to take the season.” Rake let that settle into the air. “And the ten thousand pound purse in the Race of the Century.”

Gem nodded, thoughtful. “I reckon you wouldn’t let me have ten percent of that purse?”

A beat later, Rake realized the dour Gem had made a joke and found a chuckle escaping him. “I’m certain we can negotiate fair compensation when the time comes.”

But Gem didn’t respond with humor or agreement. He nodded noncommittally.

Curious, that.

“About Hannibal,” said Rake, getting to the heart of the matter. “Do you think he’ll be ready for the Two Thousand Guineas?”

“When is it?”

“Three and a half weeks.”

Gem shifted his weight and dismounted in a smooth, efficient motion. The lad was well-accustomed to horses the size of Hannibal. He ran a hand across the horse’s withers and along his back to his flank and rump, catching every detail by sight and feel, as if he didn’t already know everything about the animal.

“Conditioning will be the key,” he said, assessing. “Fortunately, he’s in good fettle. I think he can get there.”

The lad met Rake’s gaze, and again Rake found himself noticing a pair of eyes that would be deemed pretty on a woman.

“Hannibal wants to run,” continued Gem.

Rake snapped to. “You haven’t yet had him on the track. How can you know that?”

“I could feel it just now. He’s a goer, no doubt about it. And if he’s not ready for the Two Thousand Guineas, he will be for the Derby.”

And Rake caught a glimmer within Gem’s gold-flecked, green eyes. A little bit wild…a little bit reckless…

A large bit confident and competitive.

Gem was a goer too.

The certainty solidified inside Rake that he’d made the correct decision. “When can we get him on the track?” No sense in beating about the bush.

“We give it another few days,” returned the lad, promptly, as if he’d been expecting the question. “I’ll feed and groom him now, then take him out again this afternoon for an amble around the estate. I’ll do that tomorrow as well. Then the next day, I’ll walk him around the practice course and give him his head a bit to see what happens. He’ll know what to do on a course, so we’ll have to see if he wants to do it.”

---