Sophia rolled her shoulders back and tucked her chin down. “Riding horses.”
“And to think I was worried.”
“Jonas.”
“Sophia.”
Sophia repeated the story, leaving out any question of the offer’s authenticity. The man had nodded at her. She ran one hand down Rhiannon’s neck and twined her fingers in the soft mane. “The job comes with food and board, so even though the wages aren’t high, we can save most or possibly even all of it while you heal. It should be enough to support us while we search for other employment.”
“May I see the paper?”
She bit her lip. “Why?”
Jonas turned his expressionless stare her way. “Originally because I was curious and there seems to be enough moonlight on this patch of road to read it, but now it’s because I’m guessing there’s something you aren’t telling me.”
With a sigh, Sophia pulled the paper from her pocket and handed it over. After several moments, Jonas passed it back to her. “He’s expecting me.”
There was no censure in his voice, but the frank statement sent a wave of guilt crashing through Sophia. “I believe so, yes.”
“Instead it will be you.”
She bit her lip again, intent on staying quiet and letting him think. Instead she blurted out, “You can’t ride. You cringe every time you sit on a horse. Riding in the wagon leaves you in a cold sweat. I know he’s expecting you, but I can do the job while you can’t.”
Jonas threw another flower at her, his threat clear enough to have her snapping her mouth shut with a click of teeth.
“We have to be smart about this. It’s best if he doesn’t see me at all.” He glanced at the horse. “Or Rhiannon. I don’t want you walking around with a valuable horse unprotected.”
The blow to Sophia’s plans cracked her resolve. Why hadn’t she considered that lodgings for her wouldn’t include a space for Jonas or her horse? “What will you do?”
He shrugged. “We’ll find a place to hide. This is English countryside. There’s bound to be a set of ruins or an abandoned cottage somewhere out there. We’ve done it before. The bigger question is, what are you going to do if he won’t let you work?”
“I have a contract.”
“Signed under false pretenses.”
Sophia frowned. “He hired the red-haired horse trainer named Fitzroy. That’s me.” He would let her work. Any man who hired someone the way he did was desperate.
“I’m not denying that your skill with horses far surpasses my own,” Jonas said slowly, as if explaining to a child why she had to be careful of sharp hooves. “The man was deceived, though, and all you have is a piece of paper to cash in against his honor. If he has none, there’s nothing you can do. It’s not as if we’ve the funds to hire a solicitor.”
No, they didn’t have the funds. They didn’t have their father’s riding school, didn’t have their family home, didn’t even have family, since what distant relatives they could claim had declared them old enough to be on their own when Mother died. They’d left Ireland when the man they’d been working for accused them of theft in order to disguise his gambling losses. For the past six years it had been them against the world.
For the past five, it had felt like they were losing. This time she was going to win.
“All I need is a chance. He’s too desperate not to use me. I’ll show him what I can do, and he’ll keep me on. Maybe even past one month. With two months’ wages, we could really start over.”
Jonas probably saw a dozen additional problems, but Sophia pressed on before he could state them. They’d all be hypothetical anyway. “I must say I’m quite looking forward to riding in a capacity that doesn’t require I wear a wig or billow my skirts about. Not being able to work with Rhiannon every day will be disappointing, but you can use the longe to keep her exercised. I’m sure there will be times I can come out to see you and ride her and—”
Jonas reached under Rhiannon’s neck and pinched Sophia’s lips together. “Sophia.”
“Yes?” The word came out muffled from her closed mouth.
“You’re rambling.” He released his hold.
She sighed. “I know.”
“What are you worried about?”
So many things, none of which she could give voice to. Saying them aloud made them real. “I don’t like the idea of you with nowhere to stay.”
Jonas laughed. “You do remember where I slept last night, right? And the hundreds of nights before that? Rhiannon and I will be better off, even if we camp down in the middle of the woods somewhere. Food may be difficult, but we’ll manage.”
The mention of food made Sophia’s stomach grumble, and she pressed a hand to her middle. The sky had lightened enough that she could clearly make out the countryside and its lack of taverns and food stalls. Why hadn’t she thought to procure something for breakfast?
Jonas grinned at her, reached up into one of the bags strapped to Rhiannon, and pulled out two small rolls.
“What’s this?” Sophia asked even as she accepted the bread and took a large bite.
“One of the vendors had a few of these left when he was shutting down last night. Sold them to me cheap.” Jonas took a bite of his own roll and then leaned down to see her past Rhiannon’s bobbing head. “Now, what’s really bothering you?”
Sophia swallowed the bread that now felt solid in her throat despite her careful chewing. “What if I’m not a good jockey?”
Jonas sighed. “Sophia, you’re the best rider I know. Better than I was before the accident. Probably better than Father ever was.”
She winced. It seemed somewhat sacrilegious for Jonas to say such a thing about a dead man. “We don’t know what Father was like when he was young.”
“Maybe not, but I know what you’re like now. There isn’t a horse alive you can’t ride.”
“What I do—what Father taught us—those things aren’t anything like racing. What if my skills aren’t enough?” Now that the fear was out in the open, Sophia couldn’t seem to pull it back in.
With a laugh, Jonas reached over and shoved at her shoulder. “You stand on a galloping horse four times a day and now you’re worried about sitting on one?”
Sophia grunted a response, her breath coming easier the farther they got from Cambridge. “You’re right. I can do this. Once I win this challenge, he’ll be inclined to keep me on despite the circumstances.” She refused to say he’d been tricked, because then she’d have to say she’d been tricked too, and the very fact that she was thinking such thoughts meant she’d known what Margaret was doing from the beginning and gone along with it.
Maybe even encouraged it.
“Why do you suppose Margaret did that?” she asked softly.
“Because she knows we’ve been taken advantage of? Because she hates Mr. Notley and thinks this will make him lose money? Maybe she thinks her daughter can do what you do.” He sighed. “To be honest, it doesn’t matter.”
Jonas was right. What mattered was that a window of hope had opened through unexpected means and Sophia was going to crawl through it.