against her.
She kicked her foot free of the stirrup and shifted in the saddle, preparing to jump down to the ground. It was only as she pushed herself away from the horse that she realized Mr. Whitworth had dismounted and come around to assist her down.
A squeal left her mouth as she slammed into his chest, and his arms wrapped around her as he stumbled back several steps.
He regained stable footing but didn’t immediately put her down. They stayed that way—her nose pressed into his shoulder, arms awkwardly pinned to her side by the strong press of his—until one of the horses nudged its nose into the space beside hers.
Mr. Whitworth lowered her to the ground with one arm while the other pushed the horse away. Once she was back on her feet, his grip loosened, though his hand remained on her back. She looked up at him. He’d assisted her on and off horses several times in the past week, but never had he been this close.
Sophia, who frequently had to use some form of physical impairment to stop herself from talking, couldn’t find a single word.
She heard the growing rumble of a potentially discontent crowd that certainly wouldn’t take her seriously if they discovered her in Mr. Whitworth’s embrace, staring up into his dark eyes and wondering how long they would have to stand like this before he either pushed her away or kissed her.
What a disconcerting idea. Did she want Mr. Whitworth to kiss her?
She dropped her gaze to his coat, searching for a loose string or a speck of dirt to focus on as she stepped away. The man was irritatingly free of visible flaw.
Of course he was. No seam of his would dare to unravel.
She took another step back and his arm fell away. The stable boy must have gone to watch the race and hadn’t made it back yet, because no one emerged to collect the horse. Grateful for something to do and an excuse to get away from the approaching horde, Sophia collected Equinox by the reins and retreated into the stable, careful not to look back at Mr. Whitworth.
WHAT . . .
Aaron tried to form a full question, but he couldn’t get his mind past the first word. What had just happened? What had he wanted to happen? What was he going to do about it?
And once he got past all the what questions, the why ones would be coming along behind.
He shook his head and stepped over to Shadow to gather the horse’s reins. For lack of a better idea, he led the horse into the stable.
Following Miss Fitzroy.
He’d acknowledged to himself that he found her pretty and admired her spirit and athletic ability. He could have said the same about Bianca, though, and he’d never once thought of kissing her. Just imagining such a scenario was unsettling enough to clear part of the fog from his head.
He still didn’t know what to make of that moment with Miss Fitzroy, but he needed to at least pretend it meant nothing. Despite his realization that he wanted her to win, he hadn’t forgotten that her victory came with repercussions.
Before, she’d been a novelty. Now she was a threat. And some of the men on their way back from the course weren’t going to take kindly to that altered status.
Shadow had spent a good part of the morning standing around, so he needed nothing more than water and a loosened girth. Equinox’s dark coat had been marred with streaks of lather, though. The stable boy was surely hustling his way back, but there was no reason for the horse to wait when Aaron could start the process.
The last thing he expected to find when he stepped into the grooming area was Equinox already in the rack chains being scraped down by his little jockey.
If he allowed her to say one word about that moment in the paddock, she would find a way to utter forty-two. Maybe more. Perhaps if he didn’t break the silence, she wouldn’t either. He gave her a nod and went to work on the other side of the horse.
A low wall separated the rack chains from the rest of the stable, so Aaron could easily see when Oliver stepped inside, a frowning Lord Gliddon at his side.
Aaron kept working, thankful that the sudden tension in the room had chased the last of the emotional fog from his brain. He moved the comb in hard, tight circles. He thought best