Now it was her turn. All she had to do was abandon common sense in order to believe the job offer was meant for her. One month and then they would have a little bit of money and a wealth of new opportunities.
A white horse head popped over Jonas’s shoulder, dragging a long, silky mane across his face. He spit the strands from his mouth and gave the horse’s nose an affectionate stroke. “Your magical steed awaits.”
Sophia shook her head as she climbed atop the costume trunk. The heavily embroidered panels of her skirt swirled about her legs as she shifted them to the side and mounted the horse in one efficient movement. It took Sophia a moment to shift herself into the proper position on the horse’s bare back, but soon another layer of peace smothered her trepidation.
The back of a horse was the only place she knew she belonged. Even if her father hadn’t pulled her up into the saddle with him before she could walk, she liked to think she’d have eventually found her way to the majestic animals. They were in her blood.
Jonas handed her the thin reins. “I walked her through a full halt like you asked. She shouldn’t rear up this time. The passage looked rough in the performance, though. Not that anyone else would notice.”
“I think it’s because I’m kneeling on one leg when we do it,” she murmured, wishing, not for the first time, that the abilities of the horse and its meticulous training didn’t have to be enhanced by grand schemes on her part.
“That sleeve is big enough to hide a whip,” Jonas said, giving the long tail of her wide sleeve a flick. “Perhaps you can replace the other leg aid that way.”
“Maybe.” She sighed and fingered the panels of the embroidered skirt. “Or if I re-drape the skirt, I could ease my leg down farther.”
Jonas nodded. “There should be more space in the next village, and you can work with her. I can use the longe as well, make sure she understands the adjusted command.”
“Hmm.” Sophia nudged the horse into a walk and guided her to the end of the wall. It didn’t matter if the next village had a large open area. With this new job, they wouldn’t need it.
The idea made her giddy.
How many times had she sat at the end of the dividing wall, listening to the crowd enjoying moves she’d trained other horses to do and pleading with God to somehow make this the last time she would have to go out and perform?
Countless. At least, she’d stopped counting long ago, instead giving all her focus to that prayer in that moment.
This time, her prayer was different. Thin wisps of gratitude stuttered through her mind. Would God want her thanks? Could she really claim this was the miracle she’d been asking Him for when she was practically lying to obtain it?
What was done couldn’t be changed. Not showing up tomorrow would leave the man without a rider for his race. For now, she would just be grateful. If things went poorly, she could work them out with God then.
She would hardly be the first person of faith to do something foolish and then pray for a fix.
Knowing that she was still on the front end of that foolishness eroded some of the peace she’d been feeling moments before.
A glance over her shoulder revealed Jonas braced against the small dressing table. Deep breaths made his chest rise and fall slowly. Pain and exhaustion twisted his face into a tight grimace.
Pressing her mouth into a stern line, Sophia adjusted her hold on the reins until they were taut enough to create a proper connection with her horse and pasted a smile on her face. One more show. One more evening. Then they would make their escape, running into the dark to find a new life that suited them all.
AARON’S UNEASE GREW with every mile he put between him and his new employee. What if the man didn’t show tomorrow morning? What if he couldn’t ride? He had been using a lead. At the time, Aaron had seen it as deference to the fact that the horse was carrying a rider in all the shows, but what if it wasn’t?
What had Aaron been thinking to hire a man he hadn’t even spoken with? What if he didn’t speak English? What if he didn’t speak at all? Every breath brought a new question to mind that he should have asked while at the fair.
No matter what, he’d still find the man a job. His acceptance of Aaron’s offer meant the trainer was as desperate as Aaron was—maybe even more so. If he wanted out of the circus life that badly, Aaron would help him.
That didn’t have to involve a race, though.
Aaron urged Shadow to move faster down the road. If he could get to Lord Davers tonight, he just might be able to avoid the challenge entirely. It was a long shot, but he had to try.
Back in Newmarket, he stopped by Oliver’s stable to arrange for one of the stable boys to see to Shadow. Aaron usually did it himself, but he didn’t have time if he wanted to stop the challenge.
Three-quarters of a mile down a rutted road behind Oliver’s stable sat Aaron’s small cottage. A two-stall stable of nearly the same size sat behind it. Aaron loosened Shadow’s girth and made sure the water bucket was full before going into his house to change. The stable boy would see to everything else.
Fortunately, Aaron knew where Davers was likely to be this evening.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t somewhere Aaron would be particularly welcome. Yes, he’d received an invitation, but no one—especially not the hostess—expected him to use it. That was assuming Aaron could even find it. He normally tossed them out as soon as they arrived.
Which was why he didn’t have a set of true evening clothes in his cottage. He kept his formal clothing in London, where he did—on exceedingly rare occasions—use one of the elaborately written cards that came his way in order to appease his father, the Marquis of Lindbury.
He pulled out his best ensemble, one of the two he wore to church on Sundays, and splashed some water into a basin so he could wash off the road dust.
The sun was dipping into the trees as he departed and strode toward the center of town. At least the card party was close enough to walk to. Not having to stable his horse at the gathering allowed for a quieter entrance and a hastier exit.
With any luck, he’d be in and out in half an hour. As much as he wanted to slip in the back, see to his business, and glide out again with no one the wiser, he knew better. Coming through the front door would mitigate some of the murmurs about whether he’d been invited.
Instead there would be gasps at his audacity in showing up in the first place.
He showed the footman the card he’d pulled from a pile of paper on his hearth and then bypassed the receiving line. Just because he wasn’t going to slink in didn’t mean he wanted to endure the false greetings and tight smiles of his hosts.
All the doors of the ground-floor rooms had been thrown open and guests milled about, talking and preening and seeking the best position to show off their new fashions. A ballroom would have been more convenient. It was far easier to find someone when there was only one room to search instead of several.
He finally found Davers in the drawing room, standing near a cold fireplace. Two men and two women stood with the baron. Approximately four more people than Aaron would have preferred. Rather than attempt to infiltrate the group, Aaron positioned himself in a corner, waiting for them to naturally disperse. He would catch Davers before he entered a new conversation.
“Whitworth?”