The lady’s eyes widened, but her smile returned. “Lady Rebecca, daughter of the Earl of Gliddon.”
Oh dear, she was a real lady. Sophia had thought her simply a member of the gentry. Nobility had visited the circus show, but Sophia hadn’t interacted with anyone of rank since her father’s school fell into decline.
If Lady Rebecca noticed the sudden discomfort, she didn’t acknowledge it. “Allow me to present my fiancé, Lord Farnsworth, heir to the Earl of Trenting.”
And the man who could negate any agreement Mr. Whitworth had made. Wasn’t he the owner of the horses?
Sophia dropped into a curtsy. If he hadn’t decided to send her away yet, she wasn’t going to give him a reason to. “My lord, my lady.”
Lord Farnsworth drove his hand through his hair again. “Yes.” He looked down at Lady Rebecca. “Right.” He turned his head toward Mr. Whitworth. “Well. I suppose you can . . . make arrangements, then take her to Meadowland Park.”
Mr. Whitworth smoothed his dark brown curls into place before looking to Lady Rebecca. “Which door?”
Sophia’s cheeks flamed even as she saw the appropriateness of such a question.
“The kitchen door would be safest,” Lady Rebecca said, her smile drooping for an instant before sliding back into place.
“Safe is relative at the moment,” Mr. Whitworth said, once again locking eyes with Sophia.
As much as she didn’t want to give him the final word, she couldn’t think of what to say that wasn’t nonsensical, even in her head. Knowing her, she was two breaths away from blurting it all out anyway. She bit her tongue once more to keep the words in. She truly was going to wear a hole in the thing.
Seven
Oliver and Lady Rebecca walked away, and Aaron had to stop himself from calling them back.
When was the last time he’d been alone with a woman? Even the ones he’d come to think of as friends and watched over with brother-like indulgence never went anywhere with only him. Their husbands, friends, or family were always in attendance.
There was nothing wrong with Aaron standing alone with the new jockey. They were both Oliver’s employees, at least for the moment. A handful of people were still scattered around the Heath, unabashedly keeping the pair in their line of sight.
Still, it felt improper. Calling Oliver back wouldn’t change anything, either. He could do nothing but stand there since Aaron had all the decision-making rights in the stead of the owner.
And Aaron wasn’t about to get Lord Trenting involved. The earl ignored Aaron and the stable for the most part. As long as the horses were winning and enhancing his social standing, he’d let Aaron do as he liked. It was best for everyone if it stayed that way.
Aaron glanced at Oliver’s retreating back. He’d have to find Oliver tonight and ask him not to write to his father about the day’s events. It would take time for the social gossip to make its way to the earl. Hopefully, Aaron could have this entire mess sorted by then.
“Apologies, but was I supposed to go with them?” The feminine Irish brogue fell softly on his ears, and he was already coming to loathe the sensation. Not only did it remind him of his dilemma, but when he wasn’t braced against it, it seemed to roll from his ears to shiver down his back.
Aaron shook his head and gave his attention back to the woman in front of him. “No. We need to discuss . . .” What? They’d already hashed out how they’d gotten into this mess, and he refused to indulge his growing curiosity about her. “A plan. For training. I assume you’ve never raced before?”
“Not officially, no.” She shook her head. “I’ve ridden many a fast horse, though. You won’t have to teach me how to stay in the saddle, if that’s what worries you.”
“Have you ever been to Newmarket?”
She shook her head again. “Mr. Notley always plays the Stourbridge Fair. We stay long enough to pull the Newmarket crowd. He doesn’t do much else in this area.”
“How long have you been in the circus?” He pinched himself on the leg. What happened to not asking her any questions? He didn’t want to know more about her, despite the protective urge that threadbare bag inspired.
“Two years.” She crossed her arms across her waist.
She looked as if she might say more, so he whirled away and started walking toward where he’d tied Shadow. There was a scramble of boots on grass before she fell into step beside him. He reached over and lifted the bag from her shoulder without comment. The weight of it barely pulled on his arm as he slung the strap into place.
“I can carry my own bag.” She did a funny little hop-step to keep up with his longer stride.
His jaw tightened as he adjusted his pace accordingly. “You shouldn’t have to if an unburdened gentleman is present.”
“I . . . oh.” She paused. “Thank you. I usually have to carry my own things.”
Despite his adjusted stride, she slowly fell behind, doing that odd skip-run every five or six paces to keep up with him. Aaron’s own step faltered as it suddenly occurred to him that she’d arrived on foot. She’d walked from Cambridge this morning. Or she’d walked the night before and slept . . . who even knew where?
He couldn’t now make her walk all over Newmarket. He’d have to find her a mount.
He didn’t have many options, and Hudson’s stable was the closest. Part of Aaron wanted to throw her onto Shadow’s saddle so she didn’t even have to walk that far.
Her head bobbed in the corner of his vision as she did her catch-up step once more. As he adjusted his pace again, she continued talking.
“—not around the circus, at least, so I haven’t experience with many. Gentlemen, that is, or at least ones who are unencumbered. There are some good men at fairs and such, but they’re usually carrying things about already. So am I, for that matter. No one sits around when the circus is moving.”
Why was she blathering on about the lack of gentlemen in the circus?
“We all have to earn our keep, you know.”
Was Aaron supposed to respond to any of this? Evidently not, since she didn’t pause her monologue. She’d said more words in this short walk than he normally said in a day.
Besides, he didn’t know the first thing about men in the circus, and he could hardly tell her his thoughts and misgivings on taking her to Hawksworth to borrow a horse. Hudson might have been at the race to witness the debacle firsthand, and if not, someone had likely gone by to tell him about it. The viscount was going to have questions, and Aaron didn’t want to answer them—at least not today.
“I hope you don’t think that makes me less of a lady. Though I suppose I can’t really lay claim to that, since I’m hardly highborn. My parents—”
“Do you ever stop talking?” The last thing Aaron wanted to discuss with her was his parentage. Normally he openly acknowledged his illegitimacy, mostly because it made people uncomfortable and gave him a momentary advantage, but he had a feeling that if Miss Fitzroy knew his true social standing, he’d lose what little leverage he had in convincing her she didn’t want to work for him.
“I talk when I’m nervous,” she said with a sigh.
“That seems a bad habit.”