“This is going to be a seriously fun summer,” Annie said, beaming at her stepfather, as she walked into the stables. Balmoral to meet her family, and an internship at the royal stables. The queen wanted to give her time to adjust to the changes in her life, which suited Annie too. She wasn’t ready to leave home yet, except to work at the queen’s stables instead of the Markhams’. And all the current excitement balanced some of the sadness of Lucy’s death.
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?”
“Anne Louise,” she said simply, and it didn’t ring any bells for him.
“No last name?” he asked, supercilious again, and this time she let him have it.
“Windsor. Your Royal Highness to you.” She laughed at him then and walked away, as he blushed purple. Lord Hatton and her father found her then, and the queen’s stable master glanced at the tall young man in the white jodhpurs.
“I see you’ve met my son, Anthony Hatton. I saw you talking to each other. No mischief together please. Tony likes to ride the fastest horses we have here, and your father tells me you’re a demon when it comes to speed too. I expect you both to behave and not egg each other on, if you exercise the horses together. This is not a racetrack.” He was serious and Annie promised to act responsibly, while his son rolled his eyes and looked amused.
“The horses need real exercise, Father, you can’t just trot them around a ring when they’re used to racing.”
“Let’s just be clear about it. If you lame one of our horses, I’ll shoot you, and have you hanged for treason.” He looked at Annie then, appearing demure as she admired the horses. “I’m shorthanded this month, and Anthony offered to help me out. That usually means he does exactly what he pleases and rides anything he wants. Your father tells me you’re a hard worker and I can count on you, Your Royal Highness. I need someone like you around here.”
“You can call me Annie while I’m here.” She was still getting used to being a Royal Highness, and she didn’t think it necessary while she was working for him, although it was her title now, and people were obliged to use it.
“I’m not uncomfortable using your title, ma’am. Her Majesty and I are old friends, since her childhood. My younger brother went to school with her. I knew your mother too,” he said gently, and Annie smiled at him. She liked him a great deal better than his son, who had sauntered off without saying goodbye and disappeared.
She had been assigned a room in the luxurious guest quarters behind the stables, and they’d given her one of the best rooms. Her father carried her bags upstairs for her, and she had a large comfortable room, with antique furniture and a desk. But she was dismayed to see from his open door that Anthony Hatton was two doors down from her. He was standing in the middle of th
e room, and had just added a well-cut blazer to his outfit with the white jodhpurs and still had his boots on for a sporty look. He was obviously going somewhere. He hurried down the stairs and a few minutes later, she saw him drive off in a red Ferrari.
“Handsome guy,” her father whispered and winked at her.
“He’s a jerk. He acts like he owns the place.”
“Actually, his father does.” Her father laughed at her. “He’s partners with the queen on these stables, and they buy most of the racehorses jointly. He and the queen are close friends. There have been a few rumors about them.”
“How would you know that?” She looked amused. Her father almost never repeated gossip.
“Your mother kept me well-informed about the royals. She read everything about them.” He missed her now more than ever. She had made a colossal mistake in her youth, absconding with Annie, but other than that, she had been a wonderful wife to him, and a devoted mother to their children, including Annie. “Well, don’t get into any mischief,” he warned her as he hugged her and kissed her goodbye. Her dinner was going to be brought to her on a tray. They had a chef especially for royal guests and VIPs, and she was both now, and she’d been told the food was delicious. The chef was French, and she was looking forward to it.
“I love you, Papa,” she whispered when she kissed him goodbye. He waved and headed down the stairs, and five minutes after he left, her dinner arrived. The first course was caviar and blinis, followed by lobster salad, with profiteroles for dessert. She felt like she was at a dinner party all by herself as she sat in the handsome room, enjoying the meal. She was excited about spending the next two months here. The only fly in the ointment so far was Anthony Hatton, but she was sure that she could beat him any day, no matter what he rode. She was determined to prove it at the earliest opportunity. There was a man who needed to be put in his place, and she would have given her right arm to do it, or whatever it took.
Chapter 12
Annie was up and dressed and in the stable at six the morning after she got there. She wanted some quiet time to familiarize herself with the horses. There were three large horse barns, with state-of-the-art facilities and equipment. One was for breeding, another was for their most illustrious racehorses, and the third was a mixture of the very fine horses they owned, some that had already won several races, others that were ridden but had never raced, and perhaps never would, or might someday but weren’t ready yet. Some horses the queen kept there because she enjoyed riding them. She was an avid and talented rider and had been all her life, as was her mother before her, and most of her relatives for generations, even centuries. It was in their blood, both on the German and British sides. The queen knew as much about breeding horses as her business partner Lord Hatton did, and sometimes she knew more, as he readily admitted. He was one of her greatest admirers and closest friends, and valued the companionship they shared.
Annie made her way quietly through the three horse barns, patting a neck or a muzzle here and there when the horses in their stalls stuck their heads out to see her. Sometimes she just stood and admired them. They were each the finest of their breed. In the racing barn, she was in awe, reading the names on each stall. Some of the greatest racehorses in history were in that barn. Just being near them felt like having an electric current race through her. They were not only incredibly valuable, they were horses with spirit and history and the best possible bloodlines, and also heart to win the races they had. It made her eyes water thinking of some of their victories. She was admiring one of them, when she heard a step behind her and turned. It was Lord Hatton, enjoying his universe before the day began. He was impressed to find her there. He could see in her eyes what it meant to her to be there, and was moved by it.
“They’re so beautiful,” she said, awestruck.
“Indeed. There is some extraordinary horseflesh in these barns. I’m fortunate to have the partner I do.” Annie knew he meant the queen. “Her father was one of the finest riders I’ve ever known. He picked some of the greatest racehorses we’ve had. You can’t learn that kind of judgment. It’s a gift. She and I have spent years trying to figure out some of his decisions. I’ve never known him to make a mistake. I can’t say the same for myself.” He smiled at her. “It’s not just about speed, it’s about heart and courage and endurance. You have to believe in them. They know it when you do and they rarely let you down.” He pointed to some of the horses she’d been looking at, as examples of what he meant. She felt grateful to be there, and wanted to learn all she could. Most of her feelings about horses were based on pure instinct, not always on what you could see. Jonathan had taught her that too.
“You have to love them. People are like that too,” he said wisely, as they walked out of the last barn. “Is there any horse you’d particularly like to ride today?” he asked generously, “except for the queen’s. She’s particular about that.” He smiled tenderly, and Annie could see both respect and affection in his eyes. “She has a keen eye for horseflesh. We’ve made some interesting choices together. We balance each other. Horses can teach you a great deal about life. Your stepfather tells me you want to be a jockey. Why is that? It’s a tough business. Most men think women aren’t suited to it. I disagree. I think women will be better at it, once they’re allowed to ride professionally. That day will come. It’s not far off, if you’re serious about it.”
“I am,” she said, as they stopped at a coffee machine and he filled a mug and handed it to her. “I like the excitement and the speed,” she said, taking a sip of the strong brew. “But I like the calculation and the theory along with what you have to know about the horse you’re riding. There’s so much soul to great racehorses, maybe that’s what I love about it. They try so hard and they’re so brave. It’s not just about winning, it’s about how you get there. Everything about it appeals to me. And the combination of rider and horse is so important. I think jockeys lose races, not horses.” It was a fine point, something he always said himself. You could put some jockeys on a mule and they’d win a race, and give others the finest racehorses in the world and they’d lose every time.
“You’ll be a fine jockey one day if you think that way,” he said, getting to know her better. “Horses are a lot less complicated than people,” he commented, and she remembered that he had been married three times. “We have a new horse you might like to try. I’d be interested to hear what you think of him.” In theory, he was much too big for her, but instinct told him that she could manage almost any mount, her stepfather had said the same, and she liked a challenge. She was an amazing girl, and with her history, something of a dark horse herself. She had come from nowhere, and was suddenly the surprise of the hour. It was all about breeding and courage and bloodlines, and perseverance, and she had them all. The queen had said as much when she recommended her to him, and he trusted her judgment implicitly. And she had turned out to be a fine monarch.
He led Annie to the stall of the horse he was thinking of for her. He was a magnificent stallion, and her eyes lit up as soon as she saw him.
“I’m not sure he’ll ever win a race for us, but he’s an interesting ride. We’ve had him for about a month. I don’t know him well enough to tell. He doesn’t trust us yet. He has a slightly dodgy history, but fabulous bloodlines.” She could see it in the way he stood and moved, even in his stall. “You can take him out now if you like.” She finished her coffee, put the mug in a sink, and went to get a saddle. She walked into his stall with confidence, and led him out. His name was Flash, and she looked ridiculously small beside him, which didn’t occur to her at all. She had him saddled in a few minutes, led him to a mounting block, swung up easily, and let herself into one of the rings, as Lord Hatton watched. She had a light hand on the reins, and her legs were short but powerful. She was guiding him with her knees as much as her hands, and had a fluid grace that blended with the horse. She rode him around the ring to get a sense of him, changed
directions several times, and then eased him into a gallop. The horse seemed to be enjoying it as much as she was. He balked at a sound nearby which didn’t faze her, and her confidence and poise calmed him, as Lord Hatton watched her, fascinated. She had all the instincts he looked for in a rider, and was unaware of them herself. She had the powerful horse in her full command, and he could tell that the stallion trusted her, which was half the battle.
“He’s a beautiful ride,” she said admiringly.
“Yes, he is. Inconsistent, though. He’s a moody guy. Everything has to line up just right for him. He threw one of our best riders the other day, and we couldn’t figure out why.” But he was as docile as a lamb with Annie astride him. She took him through his paces again and Lord Hatton left them and went to his office. He liked getting an early start, when everything was calm. Once he left, Annie rode Flash for an hour, and then dismounted and took him back to the barn. Both rider and mount were pleased with the time they’d spent together. After she’d removed his saddle, she put him back in his stall, and went to join the trainers she saw gathering outside the racing barn. They were handing out assignments for the week, and she was assigned to shadow one of the head trainers.
They were busy after that until lunchtime. There were a dozen assistant trainers, each with special skills that were suited to the functions they performed.
She didn’t see Anthony again until after lunch. He looked as though he had just gotten up, and had had a rough night. He’d been assigned to exercise one of the horses who had had a pulled tendon for several weeks, and was told to go easy on him. As soon as she saw him riding the horse around a ring, she saw that he had heavy hands. He had no instinct for the horse he was riding, just impeccable training, and an elegant style, but he wasn’t at one with the horse. She didn’t comment. She walked over to the rail, and he stopped to chat with her for a minute.
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