Winner Takes All - Anna Harrington Page 0,10
and grimaced.
With a curse, he flung open the door.
“Hello, Jack.”
He froze, except for his heart which lodged itself in his throat. Speaking of surprises…“Francesca.”
She hesitated. Her lips parted delicately as if she’d lost the courage to see him now that she was here, standing face to face. “I need to speak with you.”
A quick look over her head revealed her uncle’s carriage, complete with driver and tiger. “At least you weren’t foolish enough to ride over by yourself.” He glanced down at the cane she leaned on. He couldn’t see her ankle beneath the hem of her coat dress, but he would have wagered in the book at White’s that it was wrapped with a thick bandage, swollen, and all shades of black and blue. “Although God only knows what tale you’ve spun your uncle for going out at such a late hour.”
“I told the truth. That I had race business to attend to.”
“At midnight?” Disbelief dripped from his voice.
“Late race business.”
He didn’t find her explanation amusing. “Visiting a bachelor after dark at his house?” He crossed his arms, not yet letting her into the kitchen. “Something tells me that you don’t have a companion tucked into that carriage to preserve your reputation.”
“Alfred and John would never speak ill of me,” she assured him, and also assured him that he was correct in his assumption.
He flicked the two men a glance. Perhaps. She had a way of wrapping grooms and drivers around her little finger. Certainly had with him. Yet he knew he’d find himself hunting down both men in the morning and paying them well from what little money he had left to ensure their silence.
She nodded toward the kitchen. “May I come in?”
“Depends.” He gestured dryly with his mug at her cane. “Is that thing loaded?”
She flashed him a wry smile. “Come closer, and let’s find out.”
He couldn’t stop the curl of his lips. Or keep himself from stepping aside and letting her pass over the threshold. Yet he left the door wide open for the benefit of the men waiting at the carriage. And for his own sanity. He couldn’t allow a repeat of what happened between them that morning on her uncle’s front stoop.
He took her arm and helped her onto the closest chair, then leaned her cane against the cupboard, well out of reach should she decide to use it on him after all. “Now tell me what you’re doing here.”
Her face turned grim. “You’re right.”
He paused as he reached for a second mug dangling from a hook over the hearth. “Pardon?”
“I said that you’re right about the race.” Aggravation at having to admit that edged her voice.
“Could you repeat that one more time? I don’t think I heard you. You said that I’m right?”
She scowled at him. “Be serious, will you? I can’t race Midnight on my own. The Derby is less than two weeks away, and my ankle won’t be healed in time. I have to find a jockey for the race and an exercise boy for the training sessions.”
He poured the last of the coffee into the empty mug and set it on the table in front of her. “And you want me to recommend someone?”
“Yes,” she grudgingly admitted.
“There are several good riders in the area. I can give you a list of names.” He pulled a second chair up next to hers.
She added ruefully as she reached for the coffee, “Ones who don’t mind taking instruction from a woman?”
“That’s a harder proposition.”
“I know. That’s why I thought…” Her voice trailed off as he carefully elevated her leg, placed her foot on the chair, and balled up a kitchen towel to pillow it.
Stepping back, he quirked a brow as he lifted his mug to take a sip of coffee and prompted, “You thought what?”
Sudden eagerness gripped her. Her excitement was palpable. So was her desperation. “I have a wonderful idea for Midnight. Please just hear me out—”
“Oh no.” He shot her a warning glare. He knew that look—one of scheming. The same one that always ended up with Francesca in trouble up to her elegant neck. “Whatever you’ve planned, forget it.”
She sagged back in the chair. “You haven’t even heard my idea yet.”
“I don’t have to. I know how your ideas go.” To make his point, he brushed his fingertips lightly over her foot.
“This isn’t like that.” She blew out a patient breath and began, “Since I can’t ride Midnight myself—”
“At least you’ve conceded that much,” he muttered as he flopped down