Winning the Gentleman (Hearts on the Heath #2) - Kristi Ann Hunter Page 0,20

gone back on that. Pointing that out would likely get her sent away completely, so she swallowed the comment with assistance from the pinched pain of nipping her own tongue again.

At this rate she’d have a hole in her tongue by nightfall.

A sigh gathered in her chest, and she clenched her teeth to keep from letting it out. She didn’t do well with silence. If she needed to keep her thoughts from escaping through her mouth for the duration of her employment, it might be a good thing it was to be temporary. It would take a miracle to keep her thoughts inside for an entire month. Given the dubitable merit of her recent requests, it was probably best to refrain from asking anything else of God at the moment. Her tongue was simply going to have to toughen up.

“They aren’t going to like it,” the man continued, talking to Mr. Whitworth as if Sophia weren’t there.

Mr. Whitworth’s gaze, however, stayed fixed upon hers. “That I even contemplated such an experiment will give them fodder for months. They’ll thank me for handing them the weakness they’ve been looking for.”

Sophia didn’t know who they were, but she knew what it was like to be ridiculed. What had he claimed earlier? That she was trading his reputation to make a name for herself? She’d thought he was simply being dramatic, but what if it were true? She twisted her fingers together, wishing she could take all she’d learned today and go back to yesterday and discuss it with Jonas.

Such a pity time only moved forward.

The thin man grunted and shook his head again. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I hope you have a plan by then.”

He led the horse away, leaving Sophia and Mr. Whitworth staring at each other, a situation made far more awkward without the horse as part of the picture.

Mr. Whitworth shoved his hand through his hair and shifted his weight to one foot. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I thought we’d agreed I was going to ride.” She bit her tongue in reaction to the blurted statement. The pain was too late to be of any benefit.

His eyes cut toward her and his mouth pulled into a slight frown. “Unless you intend to sleep in the stall with Equinox and share his feed, that isn’t the answer to my question.”

Oh. Right. He wouldn’t be able to place her wherever he normally housed his jockeys. Another issue she hadn’t considered.

“Have you been reading Wollstonecraft in your spare time, Mr. Whitworth, or have you always harbored this heretofore hidden need to buck tradition?” A sweet, smooth, feminine voice drifted from behind Sophia’s shoulder, and she twisted her head to see a couple approaching them.

She was everything a lady should be. Dark hair that maintained its careful styling despite being out of doors, pale skin, and a dress cut to skim across the grass as she walked. Her arm was linked with that of an equally polished gentleman. Only the disheveled light brown hair kept him from presenting perfection.

Standing in front of Mr. Whitworth had made Sophia feel shabby enough, but the approaching couple made her catalog every mend and patch in her clothing. None were easily visible, but even the slightest level of scrutiny would reveal them.

Mr. Whitworth evened his weight, crossed his arms over his chest, and lifted one eyebrow, once more looking as if he were in complete control of the situation. “Unless you have recently procured a copy of Wollstonecraft’s work for Oliver’s library, I fear such writings are not available to me.”

A small idyllic smile graced the woman’s face. “Father would never approve of my reading such a book.”

“Meaning you’ve already hidden your copy among Oliver’s volumes.” Something that might have been a smile twitched at the edges of his mouth, but Sophia blinked and the hint of humor was gone.

The man escorting the dark-haired woman tensed visibly at the exchange, losing the indulgent smile he’d been wearing moments before. He looked at the woman, then at Sophia, and finally at Mr. Whitworth. “You could have warned me.”

“Actually, I couldn’t have,” Mr. Whitworth grumbled, but his voice was too low to interrupt the other man, who continued speaking.

“Everyone is asking me why I would agree to this.” He glanced over his shoulder to where a few nosy busybodies still lingered.

“Why indeed,” Mr. Whitworth said with a narrowed look in Sophia’s direction. He sighed, and the accusatory look dropped from his face. “I’m afraid more than