Sophia soon broke it. “I’ve never been to Newmarket.”
“This will be a new experience for you, then.”
Her subtle attempt to get him talking about what they were passing or the unique idiosyncrasies of the town hadn’t worked, and she bit her tongue to keep from asking directly. The man was her employer, not her friend. He’d offered a job, not a holiday.
A couple of people tipped their hats in his direction, their speculative eyes taking in both the lathered horses and Sophia, but he offered no introductions or explanations.
They rode in silence down a street leading out of town. The homes couldn’t hold her interest without tales of the people who lived within them, so she gave her attention to the man at her side. He rode the horse as if he’d been born in the saddle, with an easy grace that she couldn’t help but admire.
He was handsome too, though Sophia had to admit it wouldn’t be hard to surpass most of the men she’d been in contact with over the past two years. Traveling performers weren’t well known for their cleanliness. When they had to choose between adequate sleep and another futile fight against the collected road dust, it wasn’t much of a battle.
They turned off the road and onto a drive that cut through a tree-dotted lawn to a large estate house. Was this where she was to be staying? She’d never set foot in a home so grand, not even the servants’ quarters.
Mr. Whitworth rode past the house, though, and down to a stable tucked away from the house behind a large walled garden. Three stable boys rushed out to greet them.
Sophia kicked her foot free of the stirrup and mentally measured the distance to the ground. More than once she’d jumped down from a sidesaddle on her own, but from the back of this grey beast, the ground looked very far away indeed. Self-sufficiency was a good quality, but turning an ankle wouldn’t help her cause.
If she turned fully sideways before making the drop, she’d be able to land evenly on both feet, thereby preventing injury. She unhooked her right leg from the pommel and gathered the reins loosely in her hand.
“Are you intending to jump from the back of that horse?”
Her head jerked up, and she nearly tumbled from her new precarious position in the saddle. His face was incredulous as she scrambled to adjust her weight. “I was considering it, yes.”
“No.”
She froze, still twisted to cling to the pommel. “I beg your pardon?”
Instead of answering, he stepped up to the horse and lifted his arms to snag her about the waist. Her attempts not to squeal left her squeaking like a mouse as he lowered her to the ground. His grip remained firm as she found her footing; then he stepped back as if nothing had happened.
Her heart pounded as if she were right back in that race across the Heath. It was a ridiculous reaction. Men had been lifting women down from horses for ages. Jonas performed the task nearly every day. Perhaps that was the problem. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been assisted from a horse by anyone other than her brother. Having an enigmatic gentleman do the honors would undoubtedly elicit a different response.
He gave the stable boys instructions on caring for Poseidon and returning him to Hawksworth. Shadow was walked over to the side of the stable and given a bucket of water.
Horses taken care of, Mr. Whitworth turned to Sophia. “Meadowland Park is perhaps three miles west of here. Are your legs sufficiently rested, or have you need of another horse?”
She grinned and gave a short burst of laughter. “If you think riding a galloping horse sidesaddle will rest your legs, you’ve clearly never experienced it.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Clearly.”
Did the man pay to rent words from one of the Cambridge professors?
“Yes. Well.” She cleared her throat. “This would be an excellent opportunity to tell me I did well on my first run. In case you were wondering.”
“You lost.”
She frowned. “Not by much. Admit it. There’s not as much to teach me as you thought there would be.”
“You didn’t fall off. That’s good.”
Was he joking? She truly hoped that was meant as a teasing remark and not an indication that her ability to hold on to a horse was the only redeeming thing about that ride.
“Do you require a horse to go to Meadowland Park?”
Her legs ached—her entire body ached, if she was being honest—but she wasn’t about to ask for a concession or appear less than capable for a single moment. “I, er, no.”
He gave a sharp nod and walked to his horse. She followed, because what else was she going to do? He unhooked her bag from the saddle and handed it over before taking the reins from the stable boy. “Geoffrey here will show you the way.”
Geoffrey was trying—and failing—to follow Mr. Whitworth’s emotionless example. The slack jaw as he stared at the place where her trousers were visible beneath her wrinkled and twisted skirt revealed the moment was too much for his restraint.
Leather creaked and buckles jangled as Mr. Whitworth took the reins of his horse and led him farther down the path. Past the stable, the lane became rutted, narrow, and overgrown. What was down that way? He called over his shoulder, “Pay attention to the way. I expect you in the training yard at nine tomorrow morning.”
It was the sort of statement one would say to an employee, so why did it feel so rude? And why did his departure leave her suddenly feeling alone and abandoned?
Nine
Geoffrey shifted his weight, feet sliding about in tiny circles in the dirt. He coughed and nodded at the lane that she’d come in on. “If you’re ready, er, miss?”
No, she wasn’t ready, but when was the last time anything in her life had cared whether she was prepared?
“Yes. Of course.”
He gave her a nod of acknowledgment before silently leading the way around the edge of town to another estate.
If she’d thought the earlier house grand, it was nothing compared to this one. Her mouth dried as it came into view, the wings stretching far enough that one would wish for a horse if tasked with circling the building. Perhaps they’d only gone two miles since they’d left Mr. Whitworth and it was another mile around to the kitchen door.
Perhaps she was losing her mind.
The boy led her to a door and then stood a bit to the side as she lifted her hand to knock. He shifted his weight as they waited for an answer. “Will that be all, miss?”
She smiled to acknowledge his attempt at good manners. It didn’t cost anything for a person to be polite, despite what her new employer seemed to think. She dismissed him and turned back to face the door just as it swung open.
A woman wearing an apron, mobcap, and deep frown looked Sophia up and down. “The rider, I’m assuming?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sophia said quietly. It shouldn’t be exhausting to be scrutinized, considering how little effort it required for her to stand there and be stared at, but she could perform a dozen circus shows and not feel this drained.
Particularly since the woman in front of her obviously found something lacking. When was the last time she’d seen such disdain on a person’s face?
“This way.” The woman turned and Sophia scrambled after her, following her up stairs that seemed interminable. Finally, she flung open a door to a room near the top of the house.