Winning the Gentleman (Hearts on the Heath #2) - Kristi Ann Hunter Page 0,97

words that could be twisted into another attack.

One of the men in the circle stepped forward. “Stop acting like you were bobbed, Davers. Whitworth may be touched in the head, but he’s not a jack-in-the-box. That girl rides better than you or I ever will.” He cast a nervous glance Aaron’s way. “Not saying I approve of her exactly, but you can’t stand there and say she didn’t ride to win.”

The smug smile on Lord Davers’s face slid into a sneer. “It will be a miracle if Newmarket recovers from this blow to its reputation. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Jockey Club decides they’ll be better off in York.”

It was an empty threat, given the amount of land the Jockey Club members had in the area, and the scattering of coughs and tight laughter that filtered through the crowd proved everyone knew it.

Even though Davers no longer had the group on his side, he stepped closer until Aaron could smell the stench of his breath. “There’s still time to pull her. I suggest you do. If not, an example will be made.”

He stormed off, leaving Aaron’s insides more twisted up than ever. Were there plans to harm Sophia? Davers didn’t have a horse in the race Sophia was going to run.

That didn’t mean the man hadn’t gotten to the other jockeys.

Aaron left the stable area and found a spot away from the crowd where he could still watch over the mass of horses and people. Should he pull Sophia from the race? Letting her run had dire possibilities. Pulling her had definite consequences.

But she would be safe.

A man approached and joined Aaron at the fence. Aaron ignored him, not even turning his head to see who it was.

“My jockey informed me of a rumored plan to keep your girl from winning.”

Aaron glanced sideways at Rigsby. He’d propped one foot on the fence, looking on the horses beyond.

“They may not even let her finish,” he continued.

Visions of her being physically pulled from the saddle and trampled by the horses sank claws into his chest. That wouldn’t happen. A violation such as that would be too obvious. Too many people would see it, and some would be willing to testify. Aaron forced a deep breath through clenched teeth, allowing the logic to soothe some of the tumultuous emotions.

“Some say you planned this as revenge against those of better birth.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aaron said dryly. “It’s strange. Usually I’m the only one willing to mention my origins.”

Rigsby gave a light laugh and shook his head. “People talk about it plenty when you aren’t in the conversation. It’s only your face that makes them uncomfortable.”

Aaron couldn’t help the laugh that sputtered out. It was the sort of thing Graham or Oliver would have said.

Or a brother.

He didn’t have the time or energy to examine that thought.

“What are they saying about Miss Fitzroy?” he asked.

“Some say she’s made her point and should be done. Others are glad she’s riding again since they didn’t see her the first time.”

Aaron waited. There was more. Her adversaries had been very loud, and it wouldn’t take many of them to cause a problem.

Rigsby withstood his silent stare for an admirable amount of time, but then he sighed and said, “Most aren’t being that kind.”

Aaron felt Sophia’s dreams wither. Her hope to win over these people had been fragile to begin with. Even if she did impress them enough to hire her, they would insist upon a fee that was far lower than fair.

“If she weren’t riding for me . . .” He couldn’t complete the statement, but Rigsby knew what he was saying.

“Maybe.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face in a gesture that was familiar enough to make Aaron uncomfortable.

“Look.” Rigsby paused. “I’m always going to hear the worst about you. Everyone assumes I hate you, and I’ve never seen the point of correcting them.”

Aaron had to give the man marks for honesty.

“Most of what I get told is what people think I want to hear. My trainer and my jockey are hearing similar things, though. Some think she’s trying to catch the eye of an aristocrat with racehorses; others think she’s been bribed to throw the race.” He shook his head. “There are even a few rumors so unsavory I won’t insult her by repeating them, even to you.”

“Thank you.”

“One man asked me if she was our half sister. I nearly punched him for that one. She’s what—twenty-two?”

“Twenty-three,” Aaron said. Nearly ten years younger