known she needed.
She’d make him proud. He wouldn’t regret it. She would be the best jockey anyone had ever seen. No one on the Heath would work harder.
Assuming Lord Farnsworth was in support.
“You know I’ll support whatever you decide. You have more to lose with this than I do.”
Sophia’s knees nearly gave way.
Another heavy pause stretched out, and her chest hurt from the breath she was holding. She opened her mouth wide to ease the air from her lungs without gasping. To be discovered now would ruin the goodwill Mr. Whitworth had apparently formed of her.
“I could do the training,” Mr. Whitworth said, “but I doubt they’ll be inclined to issue me a license, at least not quickly.”
“Which means you can’t use the training yards or the practice gallops. You could run them from Hawksworth during the public hours.”
A snort of laughter preceded Mr. Whitworth’s lighter tone. “Kind of you to offer Hudson’s resources.”
“You can’t tell me he wouldn’t agree. He had misgivings a week ago, but you brought him around—or rather Miss Fitzroy did. The man is going to marry a fanatical horsewoman. If he didn’t support Miss Fitzroy after yesterday’s run, his life would be far more difficult than dealing with a questionable connection to you.” He chuckled. “Between Miss Snowley and Rebecca, you can believe you have my and Hudson’s support.”
Sophia sagged against the wall. She’d only briefly met the other two women, but the next time she saw them, she’d be tempted to kiss their feet. The power they held over these men was something she didn’t understand, but she was grateful for it.
“My life was so much simpler without any women in it,” Mr. Whitworth grumbled, sounding more like himself.
Lord Farnsworth laughed. “Simpler, maybe, but far less interesting.”
Twenty-Three
Explain this to me one more time.” The amusement in Oliver’s voice was undeniable. He’d finally convinced Aaron to bring the conversation inside, and now he was seated at the head of the breakfast table, chair turned so he could watch while Aaron stared out the window and tried not to pace. “You’re saying that while our jockey isn’t a horse thief, she does have a horse? And a brother? And they spent the night in your cottage?”
“The horse was in the stable,” Aaron grunted, curling his toes in his boots to keep his feet from moving. Pacing was what Oliver resorted to when upset, and more than once Aaron had mocked him for it. He understood the impulse now. Nervous energy could drip from the mind, form a constricting band around the chest, and then swirl down to a man’s legs until standing still seemed impossible.
“And now you’ve sent someone to collect them for breakfast.”
“Well, not the horse.” Now he was repeating his own jokes.
Aaron turned from the window, the desire to move too compelling to resist, though he refused to pace the room. Instead, he walked the long way around the table to the seat at Oliver’s right. The journey wasn’t enough to even take the edge off the compulsion.
The Fitzroys would be arriving any moment, and Aaron couldn’t let them see his agitation. While he still wanted Miss Fitzroy off his racehorses, he didn’t want to scare her into running off to London because she’d caused too many people problems here in Newmarket.
To get his mind off that unsettling thought, he returned to prodding Oliver. Perhaps he could make his friend uncomfortable enough to start pacing and Aaron could join him in a show of support. “I’m glad you find this amusing, since it all connects to your stable.”
“Ah-ah.” Oliver waved a finger in the air. “My father’s stable, as you and everyone else has reminded me of late.” He shrugged. “In a few weeks, I’m marrying Rebecca. If things get too bad here, we can retreat to the city for the winter.”
Maybe Aaron should go to ground in London. He’d always spent part of the year there, though not as much since Graham had married. It would smack of running away, but he could eventually convince himself he was just letting things settle down until he could come back and pretend it had never happened.
Rather like he needed to pretend that kiss had never happened.
Forgetting it was a true impossibility, as every moment of it was etched into his brain like one of her brother’s carvings. He shuddered. Best not to think of her brother in relation to kissing Miss Fitzroy.
“Where did you find the brother?” Oliver asked.
“An abandoned cottage.”
“Odd.”
Aaron shrugged one shoulder and