she chirped, “I suppose that makes me Sophia.” Unlike Jonas, she never knew when to leave a quip as the final word, so she also said, “Does that make you Whitworth or Aaron?”
Two dark eyebrows shot up toward the curls that drifted down across his forehead. He didn’t dignify her question with an answer, but when he resumed giving orders, he seemed somewhat less perturbed.
“Mr. Knight,” he said, turning to the thin man standing beside him, “put Fitzroy to work. He’ll be an extra groom while I’m using part of the stable. He can’t ride.” Mr. Whitworth frowned. “I say, Fitzroy, what can you do?”
“Most of the care work. Anything I don’t have to sit for, really.” Jonas grinned. “Just pay me no nevermind if I take my break lying down in the hay. It doesn’t mean I’m sleeping on the job.”
Lord Stildon cleared his throat and stepped away from the doorframe he’d been leaning on. “Speaking of lying down, have you given any thought to where they’re sleeping?”
Sophia took a step closer to Jonas. “I don’t know if this is the right path,” she whispered to her brother.
“We can’t exactly change it at the moment.”
“We could leave.”
“Or . . .” He dragged the word out for several seconds. “We could try staying.” He nodded toward Mr. Whitworth, then said in a slightly louder whisper, “I don’t think our employer is taking kindly to our whispering.”
“No, he isn’t,” Mr. Whitworth said flatly. “I’ll have your word now, Sophia. You won’t be running away from this.”
She hadn’t thought the man could appear any colder, but his entire being conveyed no emotion whatsoever. Even the frustration of moments before was gone.
“I won’t leave,” she promised softly.
Lord Stildon stepped forward. “I can arrange—”
“Don’t you have somewhere you are supposed to be this morning?” Mr. Whitworth interrupted.
“Urgent matters have arisen here.”
Mr. Whitworth shook his head. “I don’t need you cleaning up my messes.”
Sophia’s throat tightened. Jonas’s heavy squeeze of her shoulder kept the burning in her eyes from becoming hot tears.
Lord Stildon crossed his arms over his chest.
“You are supposed to be meeting with Bianca this morning, are you not?” Mr. Whitworth asked. “The woman you intend to marry?”
“I am.”
“Then off you go. I’ve been solving life’s unfair problems since I was born. This one shall be no different.”
He’d called her a problem that first day. Somewhere along the line she’d thought—hoped—that she’d risen above that distinction.
Apparently not.
Equinox and Sweet Fleet arrived then, along with a draft horse pulling a cart of equipment. Another flurry of instructions flew from Mr. Whitworth’s mouth, and everyone, including Jonas, went to work.
In short order, three horses stood ready to be mounted. Equinox with his sidesaddle, the grey she’d ridden that first day, and Shadow. Jonas gave Sophia a small salute as he passed by, pitchfork in hand.
He was doing his job. Now she would do hers.
She remembered where the mounting block was this time and took Equinox over to it so she could get into the saddle on her own. Mr. Whitworth and a groom with heavy-lidded eyes and a permanent scowl mounted up as well.
Without a word, they rode out to the Heath.
“Since I’m not an official trainer, we can only be on the Heath during the same hours as everyone else,” Mr. Whitworth said. “It will be difficult but doable.”
“Difficult but doable seems to be our way of life recently.” Sophia forced herself to grin at her own joke, hoping to put them back on semi-friendly footing.
Mr. Whitworth’s reply was a set of instructions. She was to take Equinox through a shortened version of the brush runs from last week, then a long, straight ride before returning to the stable. “Roger will go with you.”
“Oh.” His plan was to go back to avoiding her. It was probably for the best, but it still hurt.
His lips pressed into a thin line. “You can tell me how it goes when I return.”
Was he coming back this morning? This afternoon? Tomorrow? The lack of emotion and information had her pushing back. “If I’m not at Hawksworth, I’ll be at Trenton Hall with Rhiannon.”
He didn’t respond, so she pushed harder. “Where will you be?”
“Finding you a place to stay.” He nodded toward the Heath. “Get going. And keep your back straight on the runs.”
Then he rode away, quickly blending in with the other horses and riders scattered across the rolling expanse of grass. She didn’t move, staring in the direction he’d disappeared until Roger cleared his throat.
Right. She had