“It didn’t work,” Oliver said.
Graham sighed. “I’m aware.”
Aaron shouldn’t ask. He knew he shouldn’t. He turned around. “What didn’t work?”
“Waiting you out.” Graham shifted to lean more comfortably into the corner of the sofa. “You’re far too experienced at being quiet.”
Aaron laughed dryly. “What did you expect? That I’d spill my innermost thoughts to fill the silence?” He shook his head. “That might work on Sophia but not on me.”
Oliver stared with wide eyes, slowly blinking for several moments.
Graham grinned. “How long has he known her?”
Oliver’s mouth curved as well. “Two weeks.”
“Huh.” Graham tilted his head to the side to assess Aaron.
Aaron wanted to kick himself for even mentioning Sophia’s name, much less in a capacity that indicated he knew her well. He pulled both hands across his face. “Stop looking at me like that. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Obviously it does or you wouldn’t think I thought it did.” Graham grinned.
Aaron dropped back into the chair and leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees. “She made my life interesting, I’ll admit. Made me consider things I hadn’t before. That’s all it is.”
“Of course.” Aaron hated when Graham agreed with him in that tone of voice. It all but called him out as a liar.
Oliver frowned. “When we escorted her to the school this morning, you said Aaron was going to wish she was coming back with us.”
Graham sent an exasperated look at Oliver, who winced. “Right. Strategy.” He waved a hand between Graham and Aaron. “As you were. I’m just going to sit here.”
With a sigh, Graham turned back to Aaron. “Would you like to discuss your departure, Sophia, or tonight’s fascinating revelation first?”
He didn’t want to discuss any of them, but he absolutely refused to talk about Sophia. “Seeing my father on occasion helps me maintain perspective.”
“I can’t imagine how.”
“Because you are surrounded by people and places that remind you who you are and where you belong.”
There was a moment of silence before Graham quietly asked, “And you aren’t?”
“Not without careful planning, no.” Aaron left the topic there, allowing his friends to build their own conclusions. They’d known him more than twenty years. They wouldn’t be far off the mark.
After several long moments of silence, Graham’s face softened. Had he shifted into pity, Aaron would have left the room. While there may have been sympathy behind the determined set of his chin, his expression indicated nothing more than a desire to stand shoulder to shoulder with Aaron while he faced his demons, whether they came from the world or from himself.
Oliver was the one to finally speak again. “You left Newmarket. In the middle of the first October Meeting.”
“I know.” Aaron slid his eyes closed, and the vision of those red welts floated in front of his eyes. “I needed to take a moment, assess my life.”
“Did you come to any conclusions?”
He had. But he didn’t like a single one of them.
ANOTHER WEEK. ANOTHER bedroom.
This one was somewhere between the maid’s room at Meadowland Park and Lady Adelaide’s guest chamber. The bed was metal, with silver vines scrolling across the headboard. A dresser and a washstand sat to one side, a desk was beneath the window, and a comfortable-looking chair sat in the corner beside a small table. Perfect for drinking a cup of tea while reading a book.
Her trunk sat at the foot of the bed. It was silly, but there’d been something exciting about not being able to carry her luggage up to the staff quarters on her own.
Mrs. Carlton hadn’t been rude, but she also hadn’t seemed all that thrilled to have Sophia join the teaching staff. She’d shown her around, introduced her to the students, and then pointed out their small stable. There were only six stalls, and half of them were empty.
“When did your last riding instructor leave?” Sophia asked.
“You’re the first permanent one we’ve had.” Mrs. Carlton gave her a tight smile. “One of our patronesses suggested the girls’ riding skills be more than rudimentary. I don’t see the need. As long as you sit tall in the saddle and don’t fall, what does it matter?”
What indeed. Sophia could have told the woman that sitting properly made the ride more comfortable for the person and the horse, but Mrs. Carlton probably wouldn’t care. Instead Sophia said, “Often our first sight of a person is when they approach on horseback. The better a lady’s seat, the better her first impression.”
“Hmm. I suppose.” Mrs. Carlton at least looked thoughtful, which Sophia considered a win.
She dined with the rest of the staff before returning to her room, where she started a letter to Jonas. They’d agreed to write one letter a week. It would be strange, not seeing him every day, but perhaps it would be good for them. Independence would only make them stronger once they were back together.
Her window overlooked the small stable and riding ring. Mrs. Carlton’s school turned out fine, respected ladies. If she did well here, others would want to hire her. This was the beginning.
She was glad for it. She was.
If only it hadn’t come at such a high price.
OCTOBER IN NEWMARKET was always a bustling frenzy. Add the wedding of the daughter of one of horse racing’s most successful stable owners and the area exploded with wealthy and titled horse lovers.
Aaron was surprised at how quickly life calmed down after Sophia disappeared from Newmarket. It was proof that he had done the right thing. They were both safe, both getting what they’d always wanted, both moving on.
It would help if Fitzroy didn’t glare daggers into his back every time Aaron stepped foot into Hawksworth, which was multiple times a day since he was still training horses out of the stable.
Mr. Barley had asked for his job back, but Aaron declined. He couldn’t trust the man not to use circumstances as a weapon. He couldn’t trust anyone other than himself.
Besides, he enjoyed the training, enjoyed working with the horses and the jockeys. He’d even hired a new jockey. That he’d once worked for Davers gave Aaron pause, until he learned the man had quit because of the way the other jockeys had treated Sophia.
So far, the fellow was working out well.
Aaron had asked about getting the actions of the jockeys who’d whipped Sophia on official record, but his inquiries hadn’t gotten far. The fact that all three men in question were no longer working in Newmarket was telling. As was the fact that Davers and another owner had pulled their horses from the other two October Meetings. The record might not be official, but someone had put the pressure on behind the scenes.
It wasn’t enough for Aaron, but it was something. Especially when the Jockey Club had agreed to list Sophia in the books as an official jockey, including her challenge win, if Aaron would let the matter be handled quietly.
The entire exchange made him more determined than ever to do things differently. Every training decision, breeding suggestion, or race subscription would be chosen because it made sense, not because everyone else was doing it.