Royal(48)

She took one of their stallions out to exercise him that morning and rode like the wind across the meadows. She was inheriting the life she had been born to. It was almost too wonderful to be true.

Jonathan delivered Annie to the queen’s stables in Newmarket himself. It had taken just under two hours from Kent, and they chatted on the way. She was excited by the internship Lord Hatton had offered her. She didn’t care if she had to muck out stalls, or curry horses, or simply sponge them down after a run. Just being there was an honor, surrounded by the kind of horses the queen owned.

Newmarket was the center of Thoroughbred horseracing, and the largest racehorse training center in Britain. Five major races took place there every year. Tattersalls racehorse auctions were held frequently, and there were excellent equine hospitals. The queen had five main horse trainers to train her horses in different locations. The famous trainer Boyd-Rochfort was one of them. She kept horses at the Sandringham Estate too, and in Hampshire before they were sent to Newmarket to train. There were more than fifty horse-training stables and two racetracks in Newmarket. A third of the town’s jobs involved horseracing. Most of the stables were in the center of the town. The top trainers in England were there.

Lord Hatton was very gracious to Annie and her father when they arrived, and he already knew that Annie was the queen’s long lost niece who had recently turned up. Jonathan was the stepfather who had brought her to them, the only father she’d ever known, and was the stable master for the Markhams, who had impressive stables too. Though the queen’s horses surpassed them all. While Lord Hatton and her father talked about the stud services for the Markhams’ mares again, Annie walked around, and stopped to admire each of the queen’s racehorses. She had some of the finest horses in England.



She was halfway through her quiet private tour going from stall to stall, when she noticed a striking-looking young man leaning against a wall and staring at her. He was wearing white jodhpurs, a crisp white shirt, and tall black riding boots. He had jet-black hair, and a surly expression as he watched her. He didn’t greet her or approach, and then finally when she reached the last stall, he ambled over. He seemed very pleased with himself.

“How old are you?” he asked when he got to her, without introducing himself or asking her name.

“Why?” she asked him, annoyed by his bad manners, supercilious style, and arrogant attitude.

“Because you don’t look tall enough to ride a decent-sized horse. Do you ride ponies?” He was almost laughing at her, and she was furious but didn’t show it.

“I’m twenty-two, and I can ride anything you can. I’m going to be a jockey one day,” she said, sticking out her chin.

“Oh please, not another feminist. It’s my personal belief that women aren’t made to be jockeys. They don’t have the nerves for it.”

“Really? When was the last time you saw a successful male jockey taller than I am by the way? At least we know you’ll never be one.” He was six feet three or four, and irritatingly good-looking, in a kind of studied way. He looked as though he considered himself God’s gift to women, an opinion Annie didn’t share.

“I have no desire to be a jockey, and spend my life with a mouth full of mud, my face covered in dirt as I cross the finish line.” He looked immaculate in his white jodhpurs, and Annie had taken an instant dislike to him.



“I suppose the white pants work well for you. Do you play polo?” He looked the type, a spoiled rich boy whose main interest was showing off to women. He looked vaguely familiar but she didn’t recognize him, and she didn’t think they’d ever met before.

“Yes, I do play polo. I take it you don’t?”

“It’s not my sport. It’s too tame.”

“Don’t be so sure. Polo can get rough too.”

“Mostly at cocktail hour when you talk about it.”

“Are you visiting?” he asked her.

“I’m going to be working here for the next two months,” she said proudly.

“That should be interesting. I’ll be working here too. Maybe we can have some fun, and exercise the horses together, if you think you can handle them.”

“What makes you think I’m such a sissy?”

“You’re such a little girl. I’d be afraid you’d get hurt.”

“Let’s have a race sometime. It would be fun to see if I can beat you,” she said, smiling at him.

“Trust me, you can’t. I’ve got the biggest horse in this stable. He’s the only thing here that has longer legs than I do.” She wanted to slap him just listening to him.

“I accept the challenge. Little People against Big People. The difference is I’m not afraid to get mud in my hair or my teeth, as you pointed out earlier.”

“You must look charming when you race.”

“I’m not interested in how charming I look. All I care about is winning.”

“At least you’re honest about it. Most women like to pretend they don’t want to compete with men.” She looked too small to him to be a man-eater, but she sounded like one. Normally she wasn’t, but she hated men like him. They put women down constantly, and thought themselves superior. “What’s your name by the way?”