The fight seemed to drain out of her as she stepped back and lowered her chin. The space should have allowed him to breathe better, but it didn’t. It only made him nervous about why she’d suddenly backed down.
“I appreciate your intentions.” She lifted her head and straightened her shoulders. “I believe you are sincere in your offer.”
She delivered the line as if she expected him to take the observation as a compliment of high order. What sort of life had she led before now to find sincerity anything other than her due? He wasn’t insulted by her disbelief, knowing it came from being forced to develop a healthy mistrust of others, but he didn’t want her to turn down his offer of help.
Aaron didn’t rescue people. He’d never had a passion for the dark horse. For most of his life he’d been the dark horse. He funded other people’s projects and dallied upon the fringes of them, but he’d never offered personal help before.
Maybe it was because his life was changing and all the comfort and security he’d carefully built was in danger, but he wanted to know he’d done something that mattered. He needed to do more, needed to pass along the gift of acceptance his friends had given him. They would never know, but he would, and he needed to know he was worthy of a place in their lives.
If Miss Fitzroy knew he was considering her something of a charity, she’d likely kick him as hard as he was considering kicking himself.
“You can’t be my jockey forever,” he said calmly, needing to rid himself of this unsettled feeling that kept him from remembering where he belonged in the world.
“We agreed to one month of employment as long as I’m winning,” she said softly. “In one month, I’ll take my wages and will no longer be your problem.”
“You’re not my problem.” Not anymore. She’d just become his concern.
“Your inconvenience, then.”
Aaron couldn’t deny that. She was certainly still an inconvenience. “Even if you make a name as a jockey, it won’t make people hire you on for anything else.”
“These men have daughters. Wives. They may want to obtain skills like mine. Or perhaps they want horses they can show off. I am a good trainer, Mr. Whitworth.”
“How will they know what you can do after seeing you run in a straight line?”
She glanced at the ground for a moment. When her head rose, her eyes were overly bright, and her smile fake and brittle. “You have a meeting to get to with your brother. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”
Before he could say another word, she was gone, nearly running down the lane to escape him. In a single morning the woman had gone from an inconvenience to a project to a mystery he was determined to get to the bottom of.
Eighteen
Knowing the next day would decide her fate, Sophia couldn’t sleep. She lay staring at the ceiling as the house grew quiet around her. She did everything she could to keep her thoughts on the verses Jonas had read after dinner. He’d prayed over her and then told her to go get some rest.
He forgot to tell sleep to come to bed as well.
Her mind was already racing with all the possibilities. What could go wrong, what could go right. It left her dizzy. What she needed was to clear her head and start the process over. Maybe she could confuse her body into going to sleep.
She rose and put on the better of her riding gowns. She’d finally washed the practice gown, and it lay draped over the chair, drying. Sneaking out of a sleeping house was easy, and soon she was roaming the grounds, drawn to the stable and the comforting familiarity of the smells and sounds of horses.
Her intention had been to just walk by, maybe pet a horse or two if they were awake, but she wasn’t met by the quiet hum of a stable at night. Instead, there was a bang, followed by a shuffle, and the snuffles and grunts of a discontent horse.
Sophia crept into the stable, keeping an eye out for any grooms coming to investigate. In a large box stall was a very tall, very unhappy horse. He circled the box, then pawed at the ground before shoving his side against the wall.
Poor thing. She’d seen a colicky horse before. It was too dark to see if the straw along the bottom of the box was clean, but it was obvious the horse was in distress. A coiled rope hung on a hook nearby, so she grabbed it to use as a lead to take the horse outside.
The grooms lived above the stable, but the noise didn’t seem to have woken them. There was no need for them to rise when Sophia was already awake. Her restlessness might as well be of some benefit. She took the horse to an open space on the side of the stable away from the house and started walking in circles.
The first fifteen minutes were exhausting as the animal kept trying to stop and lower himself to the ground. Each time she’d poke and prod and pull until the horse started walking again. Eventually, he was walking smoothly, plodding along without complaint as they circled and circled the little area. The drowsiness that had been eluding Sophia chose that moment to appear, and she laid her head against the horse’s neck as they walked, allowing her eyes to drift partly closed.
Finally, the horse found some relief, and Sophia led the animal back into the stable, stumbling over her own feet in her sleepy state. She sat in the corner of the horse’s stall. She would wait a few moments to ensure the horse was okay, then return to bed. Her new friend gave her a brief nuzzle before settling in to enjoy the rest of the night himself.
More banging against the stall startled her awake, but this time it wasn’t the horse. Whatever had cracked against the wood had done so inches from her head.
A very well-dressed, very angry man stood in the stall with her and the horse. The door behind him was open, and three wide-eyed stable boys filled the gap.
“You!” The man pointed his horse whip at her, likely what he’d hit the wall with a few moments before. “What are you doing in my stable?”
“I, er, sleeping?” Sophia rubbed a hand over her face, willing her brain to wake enough to extricate her from this situation.
“You’re that woman jockey, aren’t you? Was this your plan?” the man continued. “You distract us with your nonsense and then plot to steal our horses? You’ll not be making off with Hezekiah!”
The man turned so quickly his still-extended whip made a whizzing sound as it slashed through the air. “Fetch the magistrate!”
That got Sophia moving. Thankful she was already dressed, she sprang from the corner, ignoring the tingling sensation in her legs, and pushed past the stunned stable boys.
There would be no breakfast this morning, no visit to Jonas. She would find a place to hide until it was time to run the race. She couldn’t leave Mr. Whitworth without a jockey, even if it appeared he might be correct in his assessment of her chances of changing people’s minds.
After that, she would go to her brother and they could decide what to do.
If they had to start all over again, so be it. At least they’d be together.
HAD THIS BEEN any other race day, Aaron would be preparing the horse with the calm born of easy confidence. It hadn’t rained in over a week, so the track would be exactly the way Equinox preferred. The sun was rising in a clear sky, so the racers would have no trouble seeing the course. All Miss Fitzroy’s training the past week had gone better than he’d expected. Hudson’s deep frowns had softened to speculative scowls after signing the papers with Rigsby the day before. He’d even been excited enough not to push for more information on Aaron’s part of the exchange.