Mr. Whitworth gestured to the back building. “You can put the horse in there.”
Jonas took Rhiannon’s lead from Sophia. “I’ll take care of it.”
Sophia wanted to protest, but the events of the day were catching up with her, and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to take care of everything.
Unfortunately, not going to the stable meant—what? Entering the cottage?
Apparently. Mr. Whitworth disappeared inside, leaving the door open in silent welcome.
She followed him in, unsure of what she would find. The cottage was a single room divided into sections. To her immediate left was a small cookstove, worktable, and a set of shelves against the wall. A table with four chairs sat in front of it. A large overstuffed sofa and bookshelf were to her right. In the back corner was a bed; the other corner was walled off into what she assumed was a washroom and dressing room.
Mr. Whitworth was at the cookstove, putting a pot of water on the surface and poking at the fire inside before throwing a small log into the growing flame.
He put his hands on his hips and looked around.
The silence was awkward.
The way her grumbling stomach broke the quiet even more so.
Mr. Whitworth quirked a half smile as he sent her a quizzical glance. “The water should boil soon.” He set a tin on the table. “Here’s tea. I don’t have food here, though. I’ll go up to the main house to have something brought down for you.”
She was in his house. Her invasion of his life was complete. Guilt speared through the hunger. “What are you going to do?”
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Right now? Nothing.” He turned on his heel and strode to the door. He paused halfway out. “Stay here tonight.” He gestured toward the bed. “If that doesn’t work for you, you know where the stable is.”
Then he was gone.
THE KITCHEN SERVANTS looked surprised by his request for a fully laden tray to be left at the door to his cottage as soon as possible, but they didn’t question him. Normally he let them in so they could set it on the table, but until he knew what was coming next, he didn’t want to advertise the siblings’ presence in his home.
Forget his professional reputation. His personal one would be in shambles if it became known that the female jockey was sleeping in his home for the night.
After leaving Trenton Hall, Aaron made his way toward the Heath. Shadow was still at the training yard, and he needed to know the potential repercussions of the race. If Lord Gliddon was right, this was going to be an uncomfortable walk through town.
It started with ugly stares.
Then a yelled insult from a man walking into a tavern.
When he passed the Jockey Club, there was no avoiding it anymore as a group of men called him over. His tainted blood would never be allowed in the building, but they would talk to him in front of the door. He was inclined to ignore them, but the ensuing ruckus wouldn’t be worth it. That didn’t mean he had to give them any reaction. He would simply let them talk around him.
“Tell me this nonsense is over, Whitworth.”
“It’s not nonsense. It’s a novelty, don’t you think?”
“A novelty. Bah. I heard my daughters talking about racing their horses when they go for their ride tomorrow.”
“Gliddon said he caught her in his stable. If she steals a horse, being female won’t save her.”
Aaron gritted his teeth. His usual course of action in these scenarios was to wait them out. Eventually the men would tire of pretending he was part of the conversation and let him go. Since they didn’t truly care about his thoughts or opinions, his stating them wouldn’t change the conversation in the least.
But now they were questioning the character of a woman who was willing to race. Aaron couldn’t remain silent.
“Gentlemen,” he said, aiming to keep his voice light and conversational when what he wanted to do was run each of them through with a verbal rapier. Well, maybe not Turner. He seemed to think the whole thing a lark. “What are you more afraid of—having your horse beaten by another with a woman as the rider, or having your women realize they can challenge you as well?”
“Are you advocating for more women jockeys, Whitworth?”
No. He couldn’t stomach it, but not for the reason some of these men couldn’t. He was sure there were plenty of men like him who wouldn’t care for the idea for safety reasons and the practicality of how to treat a lady properly in the grimy, sweaty sport. But most of these men simply didn’t like the idea that a woman could do anything she wanted.
“I am advocating for Miss Fitzroy,” he said. “She has proven her abilities. She shall race in the October Meeting. After that, when tempers have cooled, you can discuss whether you will honor her achievements and what to do about this situation in the future.”
Mr. Turner smothered a laugh but couldn’t hide his grin. “Well said, Whitworth.”
The others were not of the same mind. “I gave you a chance, Whitworth,” Mr. Wainbright said. “It took you a while, but we’re finally seeing your true breeding.”
Aaron’s thoughts and feelings had tumbled about enough today, and he did not need these men muddying up his life even more by bringing the insults of London into Newmarket. “Then I shall save you from the tarnish of my presence. Good day.”
He departed before they could answer, striding down the street in long steps that ate up the ground but did nothing to calm his mind. He didn’t like not knowing his own mind. Didn’t like sorting through emotions even more. If he had to feel things, he wanted to be able to label them.
He hadn’t wanted to like Miss Fitzroy, but she’d made it almost impossible not to. He had to admire her spunk and her dedication to her brother. Her skill on a horse was as good as anyone he’d ever seen. Obviously he found her attractive.
By the time he got to the training yard, where, thankfully, Shadow had been properly seen to, his entire body was vibrating. He needed to decide where he stood on everything without anyone else’s input.
He saddled Shadow and swung into the saddle with grim determination. In his experience, there was no better place to think than on the back of a horse.
SOPHIA EASED INTO wakefulness, feeling far more rested than she had in days, maybe even years.
She tried to roll over and couldn’t because she was wedged into the corner of a soft, comfortable sofa. She blinked. A sofa?
Oh yes. Mr. Whitworth’s sofa.
It took several wiggles that she was glad no one could witness, but she freed herself from the corner and rose. A light, familiar snore came from the bed. Jonas had tried to get her to take the better sleeping spot last night, but the thought of lying in Mr. Whitworth’s bed had felt too strange, especially after that kiss.
She stretched her arms up and lifted onto her toes, enjoying a sense of peace she’d been missing. Despite the worries waiting for her today, she was at least done with the lying and sneaking about.
Leaving Jonas to sleep, she went out to check on Rhiannon. The horse was standing in one of the two boxes, munching happily on hay. Her coat was clean and gleaming, and her mane and tail had been combed through until they lay without a single tangle. Considering Jonas had merely given her a quick brushing along with food and water last night, someone else had been busy.