Winning the Gentleman (Hearts on the Heath #2) - Kristi Ann Hunter Page 0,34

friends in his circle, more than enough people connected to his name and reputation. He did not need another.

He could, however, offer her the respect she deserved. The rest of her story might be suspicious, but it was obvious she knew horses.

That didn’t ease his trepidations about putting her on one and sending her flying across the Heath. “You did well enough on Poseidon yesterday, but he’s no longer racing.” He gave Equinox a steady pat on the neck and the horse lightly tossed his head. “Equinox is in prime condition.”

She moved about the horse, inspecting him from all angles, running her hand along his withers and forelegs. She murmured nonsensical croons to the horse as she stroked his nose and offered her flattened palm for the horse to nuzzle.

Barley crossed his arms over his chest, clearly disgruntled that she was doing everything they would expect a good jockey to do the first time he met a new horse.

While the trainer’s displeasure was somewhat amusing, his new jockey’s competence squashed Aaron’s small hope of resolving this situation easily and quietly. He blew out a breath and cast his eyes heavenward. Dear God, what did I do to deserve this?

He’d thought he and the Almighty had a decent agreement. Aaron didn’t ask God for miracles, and the Deity didn’t make Aaron’s life any more difficult than it already was. Somewhere along the way, that deal had faltered.

It had been a while since Aaron had visited the people and places that reminded him of the delicateness of his position in life. Was this God’s way of reminding him not to get too comfortable? Not to start thinking too much of his life simply because his longtime chums had attained wives with enough connections to fill a society column?

It wasn’t until Miss Fitzroy was checking the stirrup that Aaron noticed the horse wore his normal saddle instead of the sidesaddle Aaron had sent over early this morning.

Aaron frowned and stepped forward, ready to signal to a stable boy to have the issue corrected, but before he could say a word, Miss Fitzroy grasped the saddle and lifted her leg, the skirt falling away to reveal the wide-leg trousers beneath. She slid her foot into the stirrup, a move that required she bend her knee clear to her chest. After a single small bounce on her right leg, she pushed herself up and swung smoothly into the saddle.

As Barley coughed and sputtered, Miss Fitzroy quickly and efficiently adjusted her skirts until they covered her trousers to the knee, as if she’d done this a thousand times before.

Obviously, she hadn’t been lying about being able to ride astride. “I can’t let you ride about in trousers,” Aaron said with a sigh, stepping up to the horse and preparing to help her dismount, though the ease with which she’d gotten up there indicated she could probably get down without a problem.

“Riding without fabric between my skin and the saddle doesn’t sound the least bit comfortable.” She looked down at her leg, drawing Aaron’s attention in the same direction. “Besides, I rather think trousers are far preferable to showing a great deal of leg.”

He did not need to think about her skin or her bare leg or any other part of her person. A flush worked its way up his neck when he wasn’t entirely successful at avoiding imagining what her leg would look like. “You could wear a habit.”

“I don’t own one,” she said softly, shifting in the saddle. “Besides, I don’t think that would adequately cover my legs without a sidesaddle.”

“Yes. I sent one down this morning. They apparently forgot to use it.”

Mr. Barley turned to the stable and beckoned for the stable boy, carefully avoiding meeting Aaron’s gaze. Clearly the trainer had his own plan to rid himself of having to work with a woman.

It had failed to embarrass her, but the fact that Aaron had discussed this issue with her yesterday and she’d still been challenged with it certainly embarrassed him.

He did not like being embarrassed.

Miss Fitzroy kicked her feet free of the stirrups and dropped to the ground, Aaron extending his arms awkwardly to attempt to catch her. She sighed and looked up at him, trapped between him and the dark horse. “Like it or not, Mr. Whitworth, for the time being we are partners of a sort.”

“We are not partners,” Aaron ground out, looking down into eyes as green as the grass on the Heath. “You are my employee.” He swallowed.