Winning the Gentleman (Hearts on the Heath #2) - Kristi Ann Hunter Page 0,45
man. “Which do you want it to be?”
Oliver shrugged. “I’m not sure. Lord Gliddon keeps sending messages. It will be easy enough to avoid him for a few days, but my continued dodging will soon become conspicuous. I doubt he approves, but I’d rather not confirm it.”
Did Gliddon not know he was housing the controversial jockey? Aaron wasn’t going to ask. He did not want to feel honor bound to find her new lodging.
Hudson shook his head. “As entertaining as it is to watch you squirm, Whitworth, I’m concerned. Davers can stir up a lot of trouble in a week.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Bianca is talking too. She says there’s no reason for her not to be allowed to ride the thoroughbreds at a full gallop now.”
Hudson’s betrothed was an avid horsewoman, but Miss Fitzroy on the back of one of those volatile beasts was nerve-racking enough. He couldn’t take responsibility for Bianca too. “Tell her she can do that when she can stand on a galloping horse.”
Both men blinked. “Miss Fitzroy can do that?” Hudson asked.
“Circus,” Aaron muttered.
Trent stepped back out on the terrace, his wife, daughter, and nanny trailing behind. “Adelaide, I think I’ve learned how to ride this apparatus.”
“I don’t care how good you are, our daughter isn’t getting on,” his wife responded.
Trent demonstrated his ability to run while sitting on the plank, and talk of another dinner party arose. They hadn’t even eaten tonight’s dinner and the group was discussing gathering for another one—only Adelaide insisted more ladies be invited next time.
Social plans and gossip swirled around, replacing the earlier uncomfortable conversation and giving Aaron an entirely different feeling of discomfort.
He didn’t begrudge his friends their happiness, but there was no denying they seemed to be leaving him behind. Long ago, he’d accepted that domestic bliss would never be his, but he hoped that as his friends found theirs, there’d still be a place for him on the fringe.
Fourteen
Aaron arrived at the training yard early the next morning intent on settling himself with the familiar surroundings of horses. The smell of animal and leather, the shouts of trainers, the dust and grime that made all who worked among the racehorses equal. If he could absorb enough of that, he would remain focused when his new jockey arrived.
His plan had one problem.
She was already there.
He heard her before he saw her. It wasn’t difficult, given that only two of the boxes in the stable were occupied and Sweet Fleet was such a quiet, sedate animal Aaron wasn’t sure they could train the horse to race at all. The stillness allowed Miss Fitzroy’s ramblings to drift through the dim building.
“Not the least bit burnt. How do you think they know when to take it out of the fire?”
What was she talking about?
“I guess it’s like anything else. If you pay enough attention, you can learn the nuances of anything, including properly cooked toast.”
Aaron frowned. Properly cooked toast?
“I’ve never given much attention to cooking.” Aaron couldn’t see her, but he could imagine those slim shoulders shrugging in the short space of silence. “Horses are far more interesting than toast.”
It was a ridiculous statement, but Aaron had to agree.
She came into view, visible through the bars that made up the top portion of the stall walls. One hand worked rhythmic circles over Equinox’s dark coat while the other soothingly stroked the stallion’s neck. Everything about the horse looked utterly relaxed, despite the constant jabbering.
She’d moved on to marmalade. Yesterday’s orange was apparently far better than today’s prune offering.
Once again, Aaron couldn’t fault her opinion.
“I’ll eat them both, mind you. I haven’t had marmalade in so long it’s a wonder I’ve a preference at all, but there’s something delightful about orange marmalade.”
“The peels from an orange candy better than those from a prune.”
Stone-cold silence descended on the stable. Miss Fitzroy froze, blinking those green eyes his direction. “Well,” she said slowly, “I suppose that’s true.”
The horse shifted, nudging the woman to remind her to keep combing. She resumed the circles, and the horse gave a sigh of appreciation.
“I’ve never thought much about candying the peels. I don’t think I knew that’s what it was called.” She paused. “I’m still not sure what that means.”
Aaron knew the term and the idea but not well enough to explain it.
“I’m not much good in the kitchen,” she continued as she finished combing the horse and gave him a pat on the neck. “I did well enough in the scullery when