Winning the Gentleman (Hearts on the Heath #2) - Kristi Ann Hunter Page 0,33

it was what they would move forward with.

Not that he would be sad should Miss Fitzroy decide not to appear today. If she walked away from the agreement, Aaron’s honor would remain intact. While there were some who wouldn’t consider breaking an agreement with a woman as a lapse of honor, Aaron did. Those he cared about most would agree.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t breathe a sigh of relief if he never saw the feisty redhead again.

At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

He ran a hand down the black thoroughbred’s neck. “Consider it an experiment, Barley. A temporary alternative training method.”

“I’ve added more than enough of your alternative methods, thank you.” One side of the older man’s mouth quirked up as he shook his head. “You’ve made some strange suggestions over the years, but this . . . I just don’t know that it’s worth giving it a shake.”

Aaron was constantly researching and questioning, challenging the established ways of horse training, and some of the ideas he’d brought to the trainer had been short-lived, as they proved themselves inferior to the accepted way of doing things. Sometimes he proposed a truly mad idea just to see if the other man would go along with it.

Even he wouldn’t have come up with this, though.

“A woman,” Barley said with a shake of his head, followed by a deep sigh. “Is she even capable of controlling this beast?”

“She nearly beat me on Poseidon yesterday.” Aaron had been impressed. He also had to give more merit to the circus show now that he knew she was the trainer. Miss Fitzroy was at least good enough to safely manage a challenge race. Would she win?

Maybe.

Something still felt off about her arrival in Newmarket, but he’d learned long ago to trust facts over feelings. The fact was she had the best seat of any woman he’d ever seen on the back of a horse. If there was some other trickery waiting to befall him, it didn’t have to do with her ability to ride.

Mr. Barley sighed. “I don’t know. . . .”

“If she can’t handle the horse, she’ll have to give up the position.” Aaron ran his hand down the horse’s neck again, feeling the jerk of the ready muscles beneath the skin.

The idea that she might fail sent a surge of conflicting thoughts through him. If she couldn’t ride the horse, his issue would return to the far simpler matter of needing to quickly find a new jockey. But she would be left without a means of providing for herself. What would she do? A few days ago she hadn’t been his problem, but now he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t connected to her next steps.

A dull throb started at the nape of his neck and spread through his mind in the wake of the bouncing thoughts. Did he want her to be as good as she claimed? As much as he detested the idea of a female jockey, the fact was that with the challenge only delayed a week, she was currently his best chance of winning it.

Heavy silence fell over the training yard, followed by the low buzz of people from nearby yards who’d come to watch and were really bad at whispering.

His new jockey had arrived.

Aaron slid his watch from his pocket and gave it a quick look. Seven minutes early. A grudging approval tipped the scale more in her favor.

He turned. Once again, the bold expression on her delicate features slammed into his gut and her dramatic coloring stole his breath. She was in another strange riding ensemble consisting of skirt and trousers. If the other women in Newmarket started wearing trousers instead of proper riding habits, their angry fathers and husbands would create far bigger problems than gossiping stable boys.

These garments had obviously seen a great deal more wear than yesterday’s, if the patches and stains were anything to go by. She would hardly be the first person to wear less-than-pristine clothing to accomplish the dirty work of dealing with horses, but it still bothered him.

“Good morning,” Miss Fitzroy greeted in her soft voice and slight accent.

Aaron could easily understand why horses responded to it.

She came to a stop in front of the men, glancing over them briefly before gazing at the horse, consuming him from ears to tail and down to the hooves.

It was an action he had to approve of. He was halfway to liking this woman, and he couldn’t allow that. He had more than enough