“Good morning,” Miss Fitzroy greeted in her soft voice and slight accent.
Aaron could easily understand why horses responded to it.
She came to a stop in front of the men, glancing over them briefly before gazing at the horse, consuming him from ears to tail and down to the hooves.
It was an action he had to approve of. He was halfway to liking this woman, and he couldn’t allow that. He had more than enough friends in his circle, more than enough people connected to his name and reputation. He did not need another.
He could, however, offer her the respect she deserved. The rest of her story might be suspicious, but it was obvious she knew horses.
That didn’t ease his trepidations about putting her on one and sending her flying across the Heath. “You did well enough on Poseidon yesterday, but he’s no longer racing.” He gave Equinox a steady pat on the neck and the horse lightly tossed his head. “Equinox is in prime condition.”
She moved about the horse, inspecting him from all angles, running her hand along his withers and forelegs. She murmured nonsensical croons to the horse as she stroked his nose and offered her flattened palm for the horse to nuzzle.
Barley crossed his arms over his chest, clearly disgruntled that she was doing everything they would expect a good jockey to do the first time he met a new horse.
While the trainer’s displeasure was somewhat amusing, his new jockey’s competence squashed Aaron’s small hope of resolving this situation easily and quietly. He blew out a breath and cast his eyes heavenward. Dear God, what did I do to deserve this?
He’d thought he and the Almighty had a decent agreement. Aaron didn’t ask God for miracles, and the Deity didn’t make Aaron’s life any more difficult than it already was. Somewhere along the way, that deal had faltered.
It had been a while since Aaron had visited the people and places that reminded him of the delicateness of his position in life. Was this God’s way of reminding him not to get too comfortable? Not to start thinking too much of his life simply because his longtime chums had attained wives with enough connections to fill a society column?
It wasn’t until Miss Fitzroy was checking the stirrup that Aaron noticed the horse wore his normal saddle instead of the sidesaddle Aaron had sent over early this morning.
Aaron frowned and stepped forward, ready to signal to a stable boy to have the issue corrected, but before he could say a word, Miss Fitzroy grasped the saddle and lifted her leg, the skirt falling away to reveal the wide-leg trousers beneath. She slid her foot into the stirrup, a move that required she bend her knee clear to her chest. After a single small bounce on her right leg, she pushed herself up and swung smoothly into the saddle.
As Barley coughed and sputtered, Miss Fitzroy quickly and efficiently adjusted her skirts until they covered her trousers to the knee, as if she’d done this a thousand times before.
Obviously, she hadn’t been lying about being able to ride astride. “I can’t let you ride about in trousers,” Aaron said with a sigh, stepping up to the horse and preparing to help her dismount, though the ease with which she’d gotten up there indicated she could probably get down without a problem.
“Riding without fabric between my skin and the saddle doesn’t sound the least bit comfortable.” She looked down at her leg, drawing Aaron’s attention in the same direction. “Besides, I rather think trousers are far preferable to showing a great deal of leg.”
He did not need to think about her skin or her bare leg or any other part of her person. A flush worked its way up his neck when he wasn’t entirely successful at avoiding imagining what her leg would look like. “You could wear a habit.”
“I don’t own one,” she said softly, shifting in the saddle. “Besides, I don’t think that would adequately cover my legs without a sidesaddle.”
“Yes. I sent one down this morning. They apparently forgot to use it.”
Mr. Barley turned to the stable and beckoned for the stable boy, carefully avoiding meeting Aaron’s gaze. Clearly the trainer had his own plan to rid himself of having to work with a woman.
It had failed to embarrass her, but the fact that Aaron had discussed this issue with her yesterday and she’d still been challenged with it certainly embarrassed him.
He did not like being embarrassed.
Miss Fitzroy kicked her feet free of the stirrups and dropped to the ground, Aaron extending his arms awkwardly to attempt to catch her. She sighed and looked up at him, trapped between him and the dark horse. “Like it or not, Mr. Whitworth, for the time being we are partners of a sort.”
“We are not partners,” Aaron ground out, looking down into eyes as green as the grass on the Heath. “You are my employee.” He swallowed. “For now.”
He never asked his friends for favors, but he just might have to give in on this one and request they help him find her new employment.
The prospect twisted his stomach until he thought he might be ill.
An awkward silence covered the yard as the horse was saddled again. Since mounting blocks weren’t a training stable necessity, Aaron had to step forward to assist her into the sidesaddle. Her foot landed in his hands. Just like the day before, he could feel her bones through the thin, worn leather. It was a reminder that he could not simply turn her away.
Nor could he buy her a proper riding habit or boots. If he arranged new clothing for her, the whispers and rumors would turn cruel and any hope of her obtaining proper employment in this area would wither and die. He’d never bought a jockey a pair of boots before. He couldn’t start now.
Once she was settled, she gathered the reins and looked down at him. “What now?”
“Now we see if you can learn how to guide Equinox through his paces in a way that keeps you on course while obtaining the maximum speed. Yesterday it would have been enough for you to hold on and not die. Now we have a week to try for something better.”
Mr. Barley grunted. “Let’s get on with it, then. Yard’s not getting any less crowded. The onlookers want to see what you’ve gotten us into.”
The trainer was no longer attempting to hide his derision at the circumstances, and Aaron chanced a look up at his jockey to see how she was taking it.
Her chin was a notch higher and the lines of her neck were strained, as if her teeth were clamped together. She was the picture of determined defiance, and blast it all, but it just made her look prettier.
Eleven
Sophia had been on the back of a horse since before she could walk. She knew how they moved, how to communicate with them, how to assess different temperaments.
It was the racing of them that left her weak in the knees.
Of course, that sensation could also be attributed to the ache that radiated from her bent leg up to the middle of her back from the effort required to sit aside while the horse ran as if hounds were nipping at his heels.
Equinox was taller, faster, and all-in-all far more terrifying than the grey thoroughbred from the day before.
Not that she would tell anyone.
After an hour of experiencing how the horse would jump into a gallop at the start of the race and attempting to learn how to change her reins and leg commands to communicate with a horse incredibly focused on moving with such speed, she was grateful for the way her skirt fabric never lay quite right over her trousers. It prevented anyone from seeing the way her legs trembled when she dismounted.