“Engraving Rhiannon.” He gave her a quick grin. “She’s by far the most picturesque subject in this place.”
Despite the roughness of the wood and the crudeness of the tool, the lines of the majestic horse could be seen in the beam. Jonas shifted his grip to the end of the pick and made a series of tiny movements to create the mane. “I’ve always been curious about how they make the etchings in the magazines. I’ve been practicing carving away the extra instead of the picture itself.”
“It’s lovely.” Sophia meant it, truly she did, but was he saying he wanted to work as an artist? If Jonas wasn’t working with her, was there any chance of her dreams of training horses and riders coming true? No matter what she’d told Mr. Whitworth about making a name for herself, she knew that no one would actually hire her. On her own, the best she could hope for would be the chance to teach a few ladies here and there. She’d never re-create the glory that had been her father’s riding school. If there was a man they could appear to hire, though, she had a chance.
Jonas looked up at the partial roof of his temporary abode. “Maybe I can indulge in a few art supplies after we take care of attaining a real roof. Until then”—he shrugged—“I’ll practice.”
“At least you’ll leave the place looking better than when you found it.” Sophia could spy other carvings scattered about the room. “It will be the best-looking decrepit cottage in Newmarket. Maybe in all England.”
Jonas’s gaze made the same track around the room hers had. “I like to think of it as a sort of reverse vandalism.”
Sophia smiled, and it was probably the first real smile to cross her face since they’d left the circus. No matter what, Jonas would ensure they maintained a good attitude and counted their blessings.
“It’s getting dark.”
His slight smile faded, and the lines around his mouth deepened for a moment before he reached an arm over to wrap her in a hug. “Wish I could walk you back. Or send you on Rhiannon.”
“We both know I’d lose this job in a moment if they knew you existed. And before you suggest racing the horse yourself, let me tell you that you wouldn’t make it a mile before you toppled off in pain. My backside is sore, and I don’t have anything broken.”
His frown eased as he gave a short laugh. That she could alleviate some of his stress buoyed her spirits. They were a team. They would get through this together.
“Stay safe,” Jonas said.
“I will.” Sophia gathered up the dishes and bed linens, gave Rhiannon another scratch behind the ears, and slipped out the door, making sure it was carefully balanced in the doorframe behind her.
The sky was growing darker, so she cut through the center of town on her way back to her lodgings. The housekeeper already didn’t like her. Traipsing in after sundown would only give the woman a reason to get Sophia’s invitation revoked.
Town was different in the evening. Raucous voices burst forth when anyone opened an alehouse door, while carriages driven by liveried servants rolled down the street. It no longer felt like a place where everyone went about their own business. Instead there seemed to be a joined rhythm of those who had found and claimed their space in this community.
Would she have experienced something like this if life had gone differently? She knew she wasn’t supposed to dwell on what might have been, but with nothing but her own thoughts for company, it was difficult not to wonder. Had her father not pretended he wasn’t having money issues . . . Had he not fallen ill . . . Had Mother lived longer . . . Had Sophia and Jonas been just a little older so they could keep the business going . . .
And then, of course, there were the people who had tried to take advantage of them and the ones who had succeeded. The decision to keep their personal horses instead of sell them, to leave the difficulties in Ireland, to join the circus when Mr. Notley invited them.
So many times when life could have gone a different direction. All those paths were now lost to her. Would they have been better than the one she was on?
A loud burst of laughter made her jump sideways and tuck herself against a building. She shook her head and walked on. Searching the past would uncover nothing of present value.
One day, she would belong again. Maybe not here, but somewhere like it. Someday, perhaps even someday soon, she’d walk through a town and know she was home.
Thirteen
As if meeting with Rigsby hadn’t blurred the lines of Aaron’s life enough, Oliver had seen him returning and convinced him to accept a mutual friend’s invitation for dinner. Agreeing to go was simpler than explaining how his afternoon interactions had left him undesirous of company.
Aaron was acquiring far too many friends. There were no orderly divisions in his life anymore, no boundaries to help him remember who he was supposed to be at any given moment.
People all over the world relied upon different parts of their personality in different situations. It was the way the world worked.
Just then, Aaron didn’t know who he was supposed to be.
His professional friend Hudson was standing with his close friend Oliver, and both of them were talking to a man who had forced his way into Aaron’s circle even though he was never supposed to be anything other than a business connection.
His life had become a crazy mess of unpredictability.
Oliver and Hudson laughed as Trent nearly fell on his face attempting to use a contraption his brother-in-law had recently sent from London. He’d called it a dandy horse, and the idea seemed to be that a man was to sit upon a seat affixed to two wheels by a plank. When the man ran, the wheels would allow him to go farther with each step.
Calling that ridiculous thing a horse was insulting to animals. Why would someone want to balance on two wheels that couldn’t give you warning about holes or jump over ditches? A horse had four legs, eyes, and a mind of its own to help you get where you wanted to go safely.
His friends weren’t hurting anyone, except possibly themselves given the way Hudson toppled into the grass, so Aaron left them alone.
He considered leaving. He could return to his cottage and spend the evening alone, reading or writing or contemplating the follies of other humans. It was what he usually did.
The only problem was, if he left, what would he do with the baby?
Trent’s daughter, Caroline, was sitting in his lap, and Aaron wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. After arriving with Oliver, Aaron had found himself a chair on the terrace instead of joining in the so-called entertainment. It kept him away from Hudson as well, thus putting off the conversation he didn’t want to have at all and particularly didn’t want to have with witnesses.
His out-of-the-way seat had been the perfect solution.
Until the nanny needed to step inside and Trent had somehow convinced Aaron to watch the child. Although Aaron had to admit that Trent’s plopping the baby against his chest and running back to play with his new toy was an effective method of convincing.
Now she looked up at him, all big green eyes and dark hair. He’d decided long ago not to have children, not to put the difficulties of navigating his life onto a wife and son, or, worse, a daughter. Looking down at the child in his lap, he felt the loss of that decision.
What was it with green-eyed women mucking with his sanity lately? Though, Caroline’s eyes were a different shade from Miss Fitzroy’s, whose eyes resembled grass in the noon sun.