Visions of her being physically pulled from the saddle and trampled by the horses sank claws into his chest. That wouldn’t happen. A violation such as that would be too obvious. Too many people would see it, and some would be willing to testify. Aaron forced a deep breath through clenched teeth, allowing the logic to soothe some of the tumultuous emotions.
“Some say you planned this as revenge against those of better birth.”
“So I’ve heard,” Aaron said dryly. “It’s strange. Usually I’m the only one willing to mention my origins.”
Rigsby gave a light laugh and shook his head. “People talk about it plenty when you aren’t in the conversation. It’s only your face that makes them uncomfortable.”
Aaron couldn’t help the laugh that sputtered out. It was the sort of thing Graham or Oliver would have said.
Or a brother.
He didn’t have the time or energy to examine that thought.
“What are they saying about Miss Fitzroy?” he asked.
“Some say she’s made her point and should be done. Others are glad she’s riding again since they didn’t see her the first time.”
Aaron waited. There was more. Her adversaries had been very loud, and it wouldn’t take many of them to cause a problem.
Rigsby withstood his silent stare for an admirable amount of time, but then he sighed and said, “Most aren’t being that kind.”
Aaron felt Sophia’s dreams wither. Her hope to win over these people had been fragile to begin with. Even if she did impress them enough to hire her, they would insist upon a fee that was far lower than fair.
“If she weren’t riding for me . . .” He couldn’t complete the statement, but Rigsby knew what he was saying.
“Maybe.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face in a gesture that was familiar enough to make Aaron uncomfortable.
“Look.” Rigsby paused. “I’m always going to hear the worst about you. Everyone assumes I hate you, and I’ve never seen the point of correcting them.”
Aaron had to give the man marks for honesty.
“Most of what I get told is what people think I want to hear. My trainer and my jockey are hearing similar things, though. Some think she’s trying to catch the eye of an aristocrat with racehorses; others think she’s been bribed to throw the race.” He shook his head. “There are even a few rumors so unsavory I won’t insult her by repeating them, even to you.”
“Thank you.”
“One man asked me if she was our half sister. I nearly punched him for that one. She’s what—twenty-two?”
“Twenty-three,” Aaron said. Nearly ten years younger than he was.
“At least Father was unmarried when you were born.”
Aaron hadn’t thought anything could make him smile right then, but there was something humorous about Rigsby finding that particular charge insulting. “I very much hope she’s not related to me in any way,” he murmured. “That would be awkward.”
Rigsby gave a small smile of his own. “That answers my question about the validity of one rumor.”
“Do I need to pull her?”
“It’d be safest.” Rigsby shrugged. “Don’t know that it’s wisest. Some of those jockeys are discussing rather underhanded tactics, but I think they feel safe saying it because they aren’t racing against her. She’s in the two hundred guinea?”
Aaron nodded.
“I’ve got a horse in that one as well and a jockey I trust. I can’t ask him to throw the race, but he’ll keep an eye out for her, try to position his horse between her and some of the others.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. No lady deserves to be treated ill.”
“Davers said she wasn’t a lady.” Of all the insults he’d heard, that one cut him the deepest. Sophia only wanted a chance to do what she loved. No one should be disparaged for that.
Rigsby snorted. “Then perhaps it is Davers’s breeding that should be called into question. Sadly, the sport of kings has not enough gentlemen and more than its share of addlepates.”
Stepping away from the fence, Rigsby turned to Aaron. “I received your notes on the three properties. Thank you. I’d rather not have it get around that I’m looking for land.”
“That would increase the price.”
“And get back to Father.” He sighed. “When he gets angry, he tightens the purse strings. At the moment, he isn’t looking into my spending too carefully. He knows I want land, but he hasn’t asked where. I’d like to keep it that way.” With a quick nod, Rigsby strode back toward the stables.
Somewhere along the way, his younger half brother had developed an impressive, refined dignity. There was no question he was a gentleman both born and bred.
Things would be different if Sophia were riding for him.
They would be different if Sophia were kissing him.
Aaron frowned and shook his head free of that thought. Things would be different if Sophia were kissing someone like him. Someone who had the respectability to go with the manners.
The hope for a future that Aaron had allowed to sprout in Sophia’s presence was as substantial as his childhood wish that his father would come back and claim him in truth. Reality had shattered both that dream and him. Hoping for something real with Sophia made him as foolish as the rest of the addlepates in the yard.
No more. He may not be a gentleman, but he still had his wits about him. He’d gone too long thinking he had nothing, but that wasn’t true. What little he had could be pooled together to see that Sophia got everything she wanted. A home. A school. Security.
And he would make sure all of it was safely away from him.
Thirty
At first Sophia had been upset that she was only running one race, but as morning dawned with a dismal grey that could just as easily turn into rain as brighten into watery sunlight, she was glad. Her legs were going to turn to jelly the moment she no longer had anticipation holding them up.
Never would she have dreamed that turning up that day, defiantly holding aloft Aaron’s job offer in desperate hope, would turn into this. There were reports of people sleeping outside last night to ensure a good position from which to watch today’s race.
She didn’t want to know if that meant they wished her well or ill. Of much greater concern was whether there were any among them who wanted to hire a female riding instructor and horse trainer.
Lord Trent parked his carriage atop the dike near the course she would soon be barreling down. She watched two races from the confines of his vehicle.
All too soon she was slipping out of the carriage, the calls of “Good luck!” from Lord Trent and Lady Adelaide echoing in her ears as she made her way toward Aaron and the horses. Thankfully, she was wrapped in one of Lady Adelaide’s coats and a bonnet that was large enough to shield her from any onlookers.
Aaron was waiting with the horses, his attention fixed on her from the moment she came into view until she stood next to him, shucking the coat and bonnet. Without a word, he cupped his hands to give her a leg up. Situating her leg and skirt was as familiar as the horse’s height and movement now.
The way Aaron avoided her eyes was new, though. Was he worried?