Lord Suitor (14 page)

Nat
snorted. "More than helpful. On several occasions I swear it saved our
lives. There were times." He stopped speaking and bit his lip. "Let's
just say sometimes it's not clear who your allies and enemies are."

"I
can imagine, my lord. A bit like at home at the moment, I fear. The gentlemen
are worried."

"And
you, Frost? Are you worried?"

Chapter Fourteen

"It's
intolerable." Tessa was pacing again. "He sends me presents, and each
one asks me, will I? But nothing else. Oh, they are pretty, perfect, and
sometimes useful, but that is it. No more, no less."

"Well,
what else do you want?" Sybille asked reasonably. "He's not here, so
how can he do more?"

"Oh,
I don't know." Tessa flounced and winced. She had no time for such
histrionics. "I accept I'm being unreasonable, and blue-devilled once
more. Being here makes it worse. I feel stifled in the capital. I need to walk
and smell country air, not town...town-ness," she finished, somewhat pathetically,
she decided. "I have to be clear headed and think."
Plus, decide if my smuggler really ought to
have any place in my decision-making process.

"Then
tell Maman so," Sybille said. "If you explain you need to determine the
state of your heart, she will understand. Especially as it involves Nat."

It
was true that every day Mijo would advance one or two reasons why Nat was a
perfect choice for a husband. Tessa and Sybille had begun to wager what each
day's reasons might be. That morning it had been a full head of hair and fine
strong teeth. "Almost as if he were a horse," Tessa had grumbled.

"If
I go to Birch, will you come?" she asked Sybille. To her chagrin, Sybille
shook her head. "I wish... No, it's not possible, and don't ask why, I beg
of you. Perhaps in a week or so. Don't wait for me. Go and be cosseted and
learn your mind."

Tessa
hugged her. "If Maman agrees."

"She
will." Sybille was shrewd. "She wants you wed, that is true. But she also
wants you happy."

That
was a truth. Three days later Tessa, accompanied by Doris, two outriders, and
three coachmen, an entourage she thought somewhat excessive, traveled south. With
each mile she felt more at ease, and by the time the capital was a dot on the
horizon, she knew she'd done the right thing. The inns were booked, the changes
of horses arranged, and all she had to do was sit back and relax. Sadly that
was something that wasn't coming easy.

"My
lady, you're like one who sat on an ant hill." Doris patted her arm.
"It'll all come out in the wash, you'll see."

In
spite of her worries and what-ifs, Tessa had to giggle. It was something her maman
would say, although probably in French. "Then let's hope we arrive the day
before washing day and not the one after. I couldn't bear to wait a further
week." With a happy sigh, she sat back into her seat. She'd just noticed
where they were. "Not long until we stop for the night. The Fleece is
comfortable, and before you ask, perfectly safe for us. Papa has bespoke a
private parlor and the best bedroom. Plus, Fletcher, the owner, is used to our
family stopping. We will be fine."

"I
never doubted it," Doris said indignantly. "Mrs. Fletcher keeps her
beds aired and her rooms spotless, and her quarters for us servants are a sight
better than anywhere else we stop. Nevertheless, I'll be in the truckle bed in
your room. There may be"—she lowered her voice to a whisper—"gentlemen
about who are not the sort you'd wish to consort with."

Tessa
blinked and then giggled. "Do you mean gentlemen or
gentlemen,
Doris?
For the
one, I feel Micklefield is too far inland, and for the other, too far from
anything that would interest them. After all how many travel this far
south?"

"Well,
you never know, and you're in my care." Doris was nothing if not stubborn.

Actually,
Tessa didn't mind. She'd suffered some idiotic buck caterwauling outside her
window on a previous journey, and that had been with Dare on the premises. On
that occasion, Doris had also shared the room, and the way her maid had leaned
out of the window, with her hair in rags and the largest, thickest gown Tessa
had ever seen covering her body, was a sight to behold. Doris's command of the
sort of language bosky young bloods understood had been magnificent, and by the
time Dare, in the next room, had awoken and looked bleary-eyed out of his
window, the young idiot had been worsted and slunk away.

"Whichever,"
Tessa said, "I own, I feel better with you in the room with me,
Doris."

Doris
looked pleased. "There now, together we can manage any idiots
around."

The
coach turned into the inn yard and drew to a halt. Almost before the coachmen
had a chance to get down from the box, Fletcher appeared at a run and opened
the coach door.

"My
lady, an honor indeed. Is his lordship and her ladyship following?"

"Soon."
Tessa stepped out and stretched discreetly. "They send their regards. I'm
making the journey a few days in advance." She coughed somewhat
theatrically and hoped Fletcher didn't see through her deceit. He was too good
a man to hoodwink, but she hadn't thought her journey would cause comment.
"A tiresome cold made me feel the need for good Devon air."

"And
next to our air, it's as good as it can be," Fletcher, a staunch Somerset
man, stated firmly. "It'll have you as right as rain in no time."

Tessa
nodded, all the while wondering why some would want to be as right as rain.
Rain, for goodness sake. It was wet, and usually cold.

"Now
my good wife says to tell you there's mutton broth, removed by partridge or
beef and a nice queen of puddings she made when she heard you were
calling."

Tessa
was touched. Ever since she told that lady she'd enjoyed the pudding on one
visit, Mrs. Fletcher made the sumptuous sweet every time she called. Luckily
she'd meant it and could eat a large portion without feeling the need to hide
some of it under a napkin and share it with the birds.

It
augured well for an agreeable visit.

Tessa
settled down to enjoy her stay. The meal was as good as Fletcher had promised,
and once she'd eaten, she and Doris with a couple of coachmen, one whom had been
a notable pugilist in his youth, and still had somewhat of a reputation, set
out for a brisk walk along the village street. The only thing about staying in
an inn alone, even with such a protective entourage, was the fact that she felt
honor bound to retire to her room at a ridiculously early hour in order to let
her staff have some time to themselves. Tessa hoped the perambulation would
tire her out and let her rest.

Her
dreams of late had been unsettling, and she couldn't remember the last time
she'd had a full night's sleep.

It was before I met the smuggler.
Before…
She turned
her muttering into a cough as
Doris
looked at her in an inquiring way.

"Something
in my throat." Luckily Doris was disinclined to ask for further
information, and they finished their walk in peace.

Tessa
dismissed the men for the night, and along with Doris, sought refuge in her
bedchamber. There to toss and turn and chase sleep. Doris's soft snuffles and
snores echoed around the room as Tessa punched and plumped up her pillow to no
avail. In the end she gave up her quest to sleep and stretched out on her back,
with her hands behind her head, and once more began to ponder the knotty
question. Did she or did she not accept Nat's proposal?

It
was all well and good saying no and expecting him to ask again. But surely the
day would come in the not too distant future when he stopped asking. What then?
She was certain Nat was a good and honorable man—even if his poetry didn't
scan—and he would make an excellent—and loyal—husband. However, was she being
fair to him, if she said yes, when part, if not all, of her heart belonged to
another? And how would she explain the fact that she did not come into a
marriage as a chaste maiden?

The
thoughts chased one another around her mind until she gave herself a headache.
She'd have to make her mind up, and soon. It was almost dawn when she fell
asleep, to awake not that much after the sun had risen, heavy eyed and with a
headache.

If
Doris had her way, they would have spent a further night at the Fleece, for as
she said to Tessa, "You have the megrims, and a day without bouncing up
and down in the coach might help."

However,
being this close to Birch Hall, Tessa was keen to press on. The fact that she
knew it would be a smuggler's moon a few nights hence did not, she tried to
tell herself, sway her decision.

It
was late in the afternoon when the familiar view of the estuary with its boats
bobbing about and turning with the tide came into view. As ever, Tessa's heart
lightened. Somehow she knew she'd be able to think things over and arrive at
the correct decision once she was at the Hall.

"I'm
glad we pressed on," she said to Doris, who was also craning her neck to
see out of the window. "Your mama will be pleased to see you, and already
I feel my headache is going. A few weeks at Birch and I'll be fine."

Doris
nodded. "Though my mama knows not to expect me home. She understands my
place is with you."

"And
you and I know that whilst we're here, you will spend time at home. No
arguments, Doris," Tessa said firmly. "I rely on you too much as it
is, and you need to spend time with your family. Once we leave Birch, who knows
when we'll get back for another visit."

Doris
looked dubious, but to Tessa's relief, didn't argue, and they reached Birch an
hour later, talking about fashions.

As
the coach swung through the gates, the sun was setting over the distant hills,
casting them as dark, shadowy outlines in the fiery red sky.

Doris
sighed. "It is fair lovely, my lady. When we see those hills, I know we're
home."

Tessa
nodded. As children she and her siblings always had a competition as they
arrived back from any travels. The first to see the hills and then the first to
see the river. Dare always said he could see both miles before it was possible,
and noisy arguments always ensued. In the end Mijo had banned the game and bade
them play I Spy instead. Which also caused arguments because Dare would change
his mind about the word and Amalia, as the youngest, couldn't spell properly.

The
coach skirted the big purple-flowered rhododendron, which marked the halfway
point of the drive and trundled up to the front of the house.

Tessa
stood up, eager to get out and reacquaint herself with her beloved Devon. The
coach rocked back and forth on its springs as it halted, and Tessa clutched the
strap to steady herself. The last thing she wanted was to be injured and have a
broken limb to contend with.

"Steady,
my lady. Don't you be fallin'." Back in Devon, Doris's country burr was much
more pronounced. "Your maman wouldn't be best pleased."

Mijo
would be more likely to say it served Tessa right, but that was by the by. As
the coachman opened the door and lowered the steps, Tessa felt the same surge
of excitement she'd experienced as a child, when she was finally able to set
foot on Devon soil again. It didn't matter if it was a week or a month, the
sense of completion was always there.

She
took a deep breath. "Perfect. Ah, Mrs. Critchley, how lovely to be back.
You got my papa's letter to make you aware of my arrival? The others will be
down in a week or so. I needed time to be me."

Mrs.
Critchley nodded. "Your maman said. Now of course your room is made up, there's
water for a bath, and dinner will be ready when you are."

And
that was it. Tessa slipped back into her Devonshire persona without one hitch, and
only a few thoughts—or rather more than a few, but she wouldn't admit to
them—about Nat and his multiple proposals.

That
night she dreamed of her smuggler. She supposed it was inevitable, really, now
she was back at the scene of their meeting. His face was still in shadow, his
eyes hooded, and yes, those damnable whiskers covered his face. Although she
admitted, the abrasions they had created on her skin were more arousing than
uncomfortable. When he leaned over her as she curled up in bed and slowly
lifted the covers, she moaned. "Oh, please, yes."

He
laughed softy and slid next to her. His skin was cool, and she pressed closer
to feel more of him. Now if only she didn't have her nightrail on but could be
with him, skin to skin.

"As
you beg so prettily, my sweet, who am I to deny you?"

Her
body cooled as midnight air danced across her skin and his hands worked their
magic. He used one long finger to stroke her cheek and then trailed it lower
across her throat to caress the rounded orb of her breast, which sat above her
cotton nightwear. With a sinful grin, he pushed the scalloped edge of the
garment lower so more of her was bare to his touch. The chill was soon replaced
by heat.

"Oh..."
It seemed as if every hair on her body stood on end.

His
teeth grazed her nape and then the swell of her breast, and she shivered in
delicious anticipation. Tessa stretched her hands out toward him, to hold him
tightly to her and demand he show her more. The hairs of his chest teased her breast,
and she tried to bend her head to taste him as he had shown her how all those
months ago.

"Oh,
no, my lady, not this time. This time I intend to do the honorable thing and
walk away. You have things to think over, and I... I also. Perhaps we'll meet
again soon. Who knows?" The kiss to her lips was firm but brief, and then
the covers were tucked around her once more. "Take care, my love. Until I
hope we meet again."