Davers’s grin faltered. “You do have a reputation for hiring a certain quality of rider.”
Aaron nodded but said nothing. He wasn’t entering into a discussion about reputations with a man who wanted to wreck the only one Aaron had that wasn’t tainted.
One of the other gentlemen in the group cleared his throat. “I heard your jockey was making a scene in the tavern this afternoon.”
“Hughes doesn’t have much discretion when he picks up the bottle,” Aaron said. “Since I fired him, that is no longer my problem.”
Everyone in the circle blinked, surprised that Aaron had stated the facts with such bluntness. It was a simple tactic that always threw everyone off guard long enough for Aaron to step away without appearing rude. He did so now, walking farther into the house instead of heading straight for the front door. Let them think he intended to stay at the party. No one needed to know that he would soon be causing a ruckus among the servants as he exited through the kitchen.
A few gasps and squeals, and a dozen questioning looks later, Aaron was walking through the house’s back gardens and making his way to his cottage.
He poked his head into the small stable to check on Shadow and then entered his home. One room, divided into areas that suited all his needs. Situated as he was on a shielded corner of Oliver’s family estate, he never received visitors, keeping his tiny abode secure and safe. The door closed behind him, and he wrenched his cravat loose, breathing easily for the first time in over an hour.
Moving around the small space, shucking the trappings of polite society and making himself a truly awful cup of tea, Aaron’s muscles relaxed one by one. No more pretending was required of him tonight. Here, he was finally where he belonged. Alone.
Four
For two years Sophia’s life had been the circus and the fairs and amusements that surrounded it. Noisy. Crowded. She’d learned long ago how to sleep through the drunken revelries. Tonight, though, she lay on her straw pallet, listening for the world to quiet so she could slip away.
Jonas told her to sleep since she was riding a race in the morning, promising to wake her when it was time to go, but rest was nowhere to be found. She forced herself to close her eyes, drifting off for snatches of time here and there, but never truly easing into sleep. It was almost a relief when Jonas touched her shoulder, summoning her into the darkest part of the night.
No one but Notley was going to care about their departure, but that didn’t stop her from jumping at every noise and peering at every shadow. The eerie quiet scraped across her skin, joining her guilty conscience in slicing her nerves to ribbons.
Rhiannon plodded along between Sophia and Jonas, everything the twins owned in the world strapped to her saddle. Two pots wrapped in a thin blanket to keep them from clanging were draped off one side of the saddle, while the longe and other training tools hung off the other. Two small bags were strapped to the seat. Altogether, it was a lighter load than when the horse carried Sophia.
Pitiful, really, that it was all the siblings could claim after twenty-three years on this earth, but it made fleeing in the middle of the night somewhat easier.
Sophia glanced at Jonas, who was barely visible in the starlight as they walked steadily through the quiet marketplace. “You’ve scarcely said a word since I told you about the job.” What little he’d uttered had been in relation to their departure. He didn’t want to risk an outcry either, so they’d made this plan to creep away in the middle of the night. It also allowed them plenty of time to walk from Cambridge to Newmarket. Who knew how long that would take?
“Say something,” she hissed.
He turned her direction, eyebrows lifting slowly, and she knew what was coming before he even opened his mouth to say, “Something.”
She rolled her eyes to the dark sky. It would be a relief if his ability to crack a joke meant he was embracing this gamble, but the truth was Jonas was capable of being ornery no matter his mood. She bit her lip and dropped her gaze to the path in front of them. Should she push him for more? Try to convince him the idea had merit?
They reached the far end of the marketplace. Soon they’d be leaving the fair, the city, and their old lives behind them. The circus was scheduled to move on today, and she’d rather be far away when Mr. Notley learned he was moving on without them. While he wouldn’t delay the departure, he was sure to be loud about his displeasure.
The scent of food and animals gave way to the freshness of trees and fading cookfires. The space between the buildings grew. Soon they were at the edge of Cambridge, well on their way to Newmarket and new opportunities.
Jonas waited to speak until they’d rounded a bend in the road and a copse of trees hid the last vestiges of the town from sight. “I do believe this is a bad idea.”
The idea went beyond bad and into the realm of terrible, but it had been the only opportunity to come their way in years. Jonas seemed to thrive no matter where he was, but Sophia knew life could be much better.
There had to be a way for it to get better.
“We don’t have a choice,” Sophia said, crossing her arms to hug her middle. “The surgeon said your only treatment is rest. Constantly traveling, suffering the seat of a wagon or a horse, or walking miles upon miles is not rest. It’s been months and you still can’t bear to sit down.”
Jonas sighed and looked at Sophia before giving his head a small shake. “We don’t know if that surgeon had any idea what he was talking about. It’s possible I’ll never heal.”
Sophia straightened her spine and stared into the deep darkness of the countryside. “It won’t hurt to try resting for a few weeks.”
Even the suggestion that Jonas might have to live in pain forever made her eyes burn. If rest wasn’t what he needed . . . if that would never be enough . . . She shook her head, refusing to entertain the option. “It’s not as if I’m asking you to try medication sold by that quack at the fair. Lying down is perfectly normal.”
He didn’t say anything, and she rushed on, trying to convince him—and maybe herself—that this was going to be a good turn of events. “It isn’t a new activity. You already lie down every day. Walking isn’t a bother until you’ve been on your feet for a long time, so now you can spend a month alternating a little walking with lying about.”
Jonas leaned down and snapped a flower from its stem but continued walking.
Sophia continued talking. “We can even take one of our bags and fashion you a pillow of sorts. Maybe stuff it with grass or—”
The taste of dirt and leaves and who even knew what else hit her tongue as the soft petals of the flower were smushed into her mouth, bringing an abrupt halt to her rambling. Spitting the flower out, she frowned at her brother but fell silent.
Jonas kept walking, his mouth pressed into a grim line. She knew that look. He was thinking, and nothing would make him talk before he was ready.
Often he came to a conclusion that made Sophia feel foolish, but in this case she knew he’d ultimately see things her way. If God hadn’t wanted them to take this chance, potentially less than honorable though it may be, He could have provided something else during their years of praying for relief.
Jonas sighed. “Tell me again what you’ll be doing?”