Winning the Gentleman (Hearts on the Heath #2) - Kristi Ann Hunter Page 0,96
exercise.”
“Only if you make it different.” He swallowed the last bit of his sherry and set the glass aside. “Whenever you ride for them again, do you intend to stand up?”
She frowned. “Why do you want me to?”
“It’s impressive.”
“It isn’t classical.”
“Just because your father didn’t teach it to you doesn’t mean it has no merit. It’s part of who you are. You shouldn’t have to hide it.”
She laughed and shook her head. “That is quite the statement coming from you.”
Aaron blinked. “What?”
One slim-fingered hand came up to rest on his arm. “You can’t tell me you aren’t hiding some of who you are. I should know. I’ve been looking.”
As the twin slashes of red immediately crossed her cheeks, Aaron hid a smile.
“That is to say, I haven’t met many people, and you’re one of them.”
He would not laugh. “Profound.”
She sighed. “I’m trying to get to know you.”
Aaron couldn’t hold the soft laugh in anymore. “Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I’m hiding. There simply isn’t much to learn.”
“If you believe that, you’re as good at lying to yourself as I am.”
Twenty-Nine
The population of Newmarket swelled every year around the October and April Meetings, but this year it seemed to grow more than ever. Since Sophia’s first race, people had been pouring into the area. Many were of the higher classes, following the horses because they had a stake in the racing, enjoyed the accompanying social life, or couldn’t stay away from the betting.
It made Newmarket feel far too much like London for Aaron’s peace of mind. The first of three October Meetings started tomorrow. Twenty-three matches were scheduled to run over the next two days. Aaron had horses in eight of them, but there was only one he was truly concerned about. Tomorrow, Sophia and Equinox were slated for the fourth race.
Standing alone near one of the training gallops, one foot propped on a fence as he watched the competition practice, he could admit, if only to himself, that he was terrified. So many things could go wrong. What if their preparations weren’t enough? He’d promised her this race, but he prayed it would be her last. If her jockey career didn’t end soon, his heart would give out. He ran a hand over his face. Just twenty-four hours to go.
These days, the training stables felt more like his London club, a place that had only let him in because Oliver and Graham made it a requirement for their own memberships. Before Sophia, he’d been either cautiously accepted or politely ignored at the yards, but now he’d finally rocked the boat enough to overwhelm his skill, record, and reputation.
Glares came his way. Whispered comments made a clearer trail than his footprints, some uttered so loudly they were meant to be overheard.
Fortunately, Aaron had years of experience ignoring such comments. He wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
“Why is he showing his face here?”
“He built up his reputation just to take a swing at his betters.”
“One can’t really expect true honor from someone with his birth.”
Lord Davers, who’d never liked Aaron in the first place, at least had the nerve to speak to him face-to-face. “I’m surprised to see you here, Whitworth.”
“There’s a race tomorrow. Where else would I be?”
“At Hawksworth, making a mockery of the sport.”
“I hold this sport in the highest regard, Lord Davers. To suggest otherwise reveals ignorance of the evidence.”
Davers laughed loudly enough to draw the notice of other men in the vicinity. A small crowd gathered. Aaron nearly rolled his eyes. Did they think the two men were going to engage in fisticuffs behind the nearest stable?
“Having a woman in the challenge race was bad enough,” Davers sneered.
“You mean the race you lost?” Aaron folded his arms across his chest and allowed a touch of smugness to enter his expression.
“My jockey was flustered at the idea of riding against a woman. He was too much of a gentleman to ride as he should have.” He leaned in and said in a low whisper, “I have corrected his assumption.”
He shouldn’t ask. “What assumption?”
“That every female is worthy of being treated as a lady. It helped to remind him that every man who presents himself as one of good breeding isn’t a true gentleman.” He raked Aaron over with a judgmental glare. “Sometimes they are just fooling themselves.”
Dozens of retorts came into Aaron’s head, but none of them would smother the man’s inflammatory statements better than silence. Better to be quiet than give his opponent