Page 524 of From Rakes to Riches

The door opened a crack, and a stable lad sidled through, his hat in hand, his gaze on the dusty tips of his boots. Cal, he believed was the lad’s name. “Flicka’s foal is comin’, and she’s in trouble,” said the lad in a rush.

Rake’s billiards cue clattered to the table, alarm surging through him. “Did Wilson send you?”

The lad shook his head. “He’s in?—”

“Newmarket,” supplied Artemis, who suddenly looked as anxious as Rake felt.

Rake’s feet were already on the move. “Who sent you?”

“Erm, Gem, Your Grace.”

Of course.Rake had become so fixated on what he didn’t know about Gem that he’d lost sight of what he did. Like the fact she had nerve and audacity. Shewouldsend a stable lad to summon a duke.

“Good night, Artemis,” he tossed over his shoulder as he strode out of the room.

Rake’s mind racing as fast as his feet, it was a quick journey to the stables, which buzzed with an energy both tetchy and muted. Without Wilson around to send them packing, the lads and grooms loitered in the aisle outside the foaling box and spilled into the courtyard beyond. One saw Rake coming and nudged his neighbor, who elbowed his neighbor. Within a few seconds, they’d scattered to the four winds.

His presence tended to have that effect.

Silently, Rake stepped into the opening of the foaling box and found only three occupants inside—Flicka, Somerton’s animal surgeon, Foley, and…

Gem.

Of course.

Sleeves rolled above his elbows, the sweat of exertion dripping down the sides of his face, Foley crouched at one end of the mare, trying his best to turn the foal, while Gem maintained a calm presence at Flicka’s head. She’d folded her body so her legs were beneath the mare’s neck, while she kept a firm hand on Flicka’s shoulder. Her other hand stroked Flicka’s head, as all the while she whispered into the distressed mare’s ear.

Gem’s gold-flecked, green eyes startled up and met his. As ever, a frisson of connection passed between them. She jutted her chin, and it took Rake a moment to understand the import of the gesture. She was beckoning him over to help soothe Flicka. She intuited he would need to make himself useful.

Strange, that… That she understood something so fundamental and true about him.

He closed the few feet between them, directing a nod toward Foley, and lowered beside Gem at Flicka’s head. He began stroking the mare’s velvety nose and making a shushing sound between his teeth, instinct guiding him. He sensed Gem’s approval and couldn’t understand why it would matter to him—but it did.

Foley shot them a quick glance across the length of Flicka’s outstretched body. “The foal is in good position now. On the next contraction, let’s get him delivered.Now steady on.”

Serious and calm, Gem nodded. She was ready beside Rake.

Time went still as they waited, then raced ahead as Flicka delivered her foal like it were an everyday occurrence. “Well done, old girl,” said Rake, relief rushing through him with such force he felt nearly giddy with it.

Foley stood and washed his hands in a nearby bucket, toweling them off as he offered a proper greeting to Rake. Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to, Rake gave Flicka’s nose a parting stroke and came to his feet, leaving the mare in the capable hands of Gem.

While he conversed with Foley, Rake kept half an eye on Gem as she settled back onto her haunches and watched Flicka tend her foal. She accepted he was no longer needed by the pair, who were now bonding. But her work wasn’t finished. She grabbed a pitchfork and began mucking out the box.

Gem hadn’t an idle bone in her lissome body, had she?

Lissome…fetching…a beauty…

That was no productive way to be thinking about his jockey.

Foley finished scrubbing and packing the implements of his trade into a capacious, leather satchel. “Flicka had a hard time of it. You’ll want a lad in here with them for the night.”

Gem didn’t hesitate. “I’ll see them through.”

Rake wouldn’t have expected any other response.

Yet one more fact he knew about the mysterious Gem.

The Gem he was planning to sack.

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