Tessa's Touch (16 page)

In vain she argued that one of the stable lads
could watch from a distance. Finally she gave up, hoping that they would
eventually see that she was right, at which point their greed would likely win
out over any concern for her safety.

Walking back to the house, she realized that
her life had become much happier of late. Not only was she riding to the hunt,
a wonderful, exhilarating experience, but she was able to spend more time with
the horses. She also had the first real friend she'd had in years in Lord
Anthony —and it appeared that last night's indiscretion had gone undiscovered.

Her shoes were muddy from the fields, so she
went in by the kitchens and upstairs to change her footwear before coming down
to speak with her father. Perhaps between them they could come up with some
other task for Harold, one that would keep him from spending so much time with
the horses.

As she approached his study, the sound of
voices told her that her father was not alone. This was surprising, as Griffith
had been in the kitchens eating when she'd passed through. Had he finished so
quickly? But when she entered, it was to see Lord Anthony sitting in the chair
next to her father.

At her entrance, he rose and bowed. "Ah,
Miss Seaton, I'm delighted that you have returned. I understand you were forced
to stay the night at the Hilltops'?"

She curtsied, hoping her father would not
notice the color she felt rushing to her face. "I, ah, yes, my lord. They
were kind enough to invite me so that I would not have to ride back in the
rain. How does Lord Killerby today?"

Her father's startled glance reminded her belatedly
that he did not know about the accident. She would trip herself up with her web
of lies yet! But Anthony covered her blunder smoothly.

"He is doing much better, though he won't
be walking for some time yet. I presume Mr. Emery told you about his fall?"
He directed the question to both of them.

Tessa nodded, while her father shook his head.
"Harold heard about it in the village," she improvised. "I was
quite sorry to hear of it. What of the horse he was riding?" She tried to
communicate with a look that she preferred her father not learn it was Nimbus.

"A strain and a scratch, but the vet
assures us it will recover." He turned back to Sir George before he could
ask questions and said, "I'm sure, immobilized as he is, Lord Killerby
will be delighted that you have accepted my invitation."

"Invitation?" Tessa echoed.
"What do you mean? Papa?"

Sir George beamed at her. "Lord Anthony
has been kind enough to invite me to dinner tomorrow night at Ivy Lodge. He has
promised to send a carriage for me, and to wrestle me into it, one way or
another."

"I have indeed," Anthony agreed,
smiling first at his host and then at Tessa. He held her eyes for a long moment
and she smoothed her instinctive frown before her father could see it.

Still, she could not quell her misgivings.
"And you're certain you wish to do this, Papa?"

"I wish to try," he replied with a
determined nod. "If I can't manage it, best to know it at once, eh? And if
I can, why then, who knows what I may attempt next?" He winked at her.

Tessa blinked, unaccustomed to her father in
such a mood. Recalling her conversation with Anthony this morning, however, she
restrained herself from voicing her concerns.

"Very well, Papa." She would have to
speak privately to Anthony before he left. He needed to understand the risks,
not only to her father's health, but to his peace of mind, should he discover
himself unable to travel after all. She would prefer to spare Sir George the
potential blow to his pride, but he seemed set on this course.

Their talk turned to the hunt then, with her
father expressing regret that neither she nor Anthony were able to ride in the
Cottesmore meet today. Tessa found herself blushing as she remembered the
reason, even though her father had no inkling.

Last night, even this morning, seemed almost
like a dream now, with Anthony sitting there so formally, paying her no special
attention. Had she read too much into the intimacy they had briefly shared? His
demeanor now would suggest so.

"—won't you, Tessa?" her father was
saying.

She turned to him with a start. "My
apologies, Papa, I was woolgathering. What did you ask of me?"

"I was suggesting that you see Lord
Anthony out, as I'm well aware you'll want to give him advice on how he should
deal with me tomorrow, out of my hearing." Her father's eyes twinkled.

"Oh, but I—" she started to protest,
startled, then shook her head. "You know me far too well, Papa, for I'd
planned to do just that. I'll try not to fuss, however. Lord Anthony?"

He stood and she accompanied him from the room
and down to the front door. "I suppose I need not tell you to be careful
of him tomorrow night?" she said with a self-conscious smile. "I'm
trying to take your advice to heart, as you see."

"And doing an admirable job," he
assured her, his answering smile making her heart flutter. "I wish you
could come as well, but of course it would not be proper."

"No. I understand. I'll trust you not to
tire my father." Much as she was trying to avoid coddling, she needed that
reassurance.

He gave it. "I'll be as watchful of his health
as ever you could be, Tessa, I promise."

She knew he meant it and smiled her relief.
Just as she relaxed, however, he glanced up the stairs behind her, then bent
down to give her a swift kiss. "Until tomorrow," he whispered, and
then he was gone.

Tessa stood by the front door for a long
moment, her fingers at her lips. Smiling to herself, she turned —only to notice
the shabbiness of the front hall. If Papa was going to be carried through here
tomorrow, she had work to do!

Over the next few hours, she set their few
servants to polishing and rearranging, moving out those things that were worn
or obviously repaired and replacing them with anything she could find that
could be cleaned up to look elegant. The silver sconces were stripped of
tarnish, an ornament or two was fetched from storage, the carpet was taken out
and beaten to within an inch of its life. By dinnertime, the hall was
presentable, making her wonder why she'd never done this before.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bealls," she said to
the matronly woman who filled multiple roles in their household —not that Sir
George knew that. "You really are a treasure."

"Thankee, miss, but if we're to convince
your father of that, I'd best go check on Sally in the kitchen. I left her to
watch the soup, but she's no cook, I fear. I'll send her up to you once I've
taken over."

Tessa nodded and sent her off, then headed
upstairs herself to put off the mobcap she'd donned for her share in the work.
She really must speak with Uncle Mercer about hiring more staff, if Papa persisted
in his plan to entertain more. The servants they had now were by no means
sufficient to a house of this size.

She came down to dinner early, again hoping to
have a private word with her father about Harold, but discovered Uncle Mercer
already in the parlor with him. Sir George was talking animatedly about his
outing the next day, but Uncle Mercer was frowning.

"Really, sir, you should have consulted
with me before agreeing, for I cannot think this wise. At least let me send for
your physician, that we may hear his opinion on the matter."

"Nonsense," Sir George exclaimed.
"That old charlatan is far too conservative for my tastes. The two of you
would have me keep to my bed continually, and there's clearly no need of that.
Eh, Tessa?" He turned to her for confirmation as she entered the parlor
and took a seat.

"No need at all." For all that she'd
not been in favor of this outing herself, she would not take Uncle Mercer's
side now, when her father was so eager to go.

Her uncle shrugged. "I must hope that you'll
prove me wrong then," he said somewhat sourly.

Harold came in then, and a few moments later
dinner was announced. Tessa realized with a sigh that her talk with her father
would have to wait until tomorrow, for by the time dinner was over, he would certainly
have had too much wine to be trusted to carry on a discreet conversation.

* *
*

After breakfast the next morning, the rector
came, as he always did on Sundays, to conduct a private service for the family
in the little chapel at the rear of the first floor. Tessa took the opportunity
to pray for guidance in the matter of her cousin's training —and in the matter
of Lord Anthony —but couldn't say that she received any answers.

The afternoon was spent out at the stables,
where she again worked with Vulcan, finally progressing to the point where she
could place a hand on his shoulder without him snapping at her.

"You've got him good and calm now,"
Harold said softly from behind her. "Here, let's see if I can touch him
while he's quiet."

Before Harold could get within two feet of him,
however, the stallion reached out his long neck and snapped, narrowly missing
Harold's shoulder. Harold jumped back and Vulcan reared, screaming, before
galloping away to the far corner of the paddock.

Tessa sighed. "Really, Harold, I'll make
much better headway with him if you stay well away."

"We had this all out yesterday. You've
been out alone a deal more than is wise lately, in my opinion. People are
beginning to talk."

She stared at him. "People? What
people?"

He shrugged. "Those hereabouts," he
said evasively.

"I've been riding out alone for
years," she reminded him. "I've never cared about any talk before,
and neither have you, as it's made your job easier."

Now he scowled at her. "That was before —I
just think I need to keep a closer eye on you, that's all, and Father
agrees."

She suspected this had something to do with her
riding out alone with Anthony Friday night, but thought it wiser not to ask.
The less she seemed to make of that, the better. It would not do at all for
Harold to suspect her feelings there. At best, he'd taunt her for entertaining
foolish hopes. At worst, he might see Anthony as a threat, and do or say
something to warn him off.

Such thoughts led inevitably to Anthony's impending
visit to take her father to Ivy Lodge. With that in mind, she bathed and
dressed with unusual care, even though she knew she would only see him for a
few moments. When she came downstairs shortly before he was due to arrive, she
felt confident that she looked her best.

Again she hoped to have time to talk to her
father about Harold's training, and again her hopes were dashed, for both
Harold and his father were in the parlor with Sir George. All three stared at
her in some surprise when she entered, and suddenly she wished she hadn't taken
such pains with her appearance.

"My, you look lovely, Tessa," her
father exclaimed. "Does she not, gentlemen?"

They both murmured agreement, Harold frowning
at her suspiciously. She thanked them, though her heart sank at the thought of
an evening spent hearing her cousin's barbed comments and clumsy attempts at
gallantry. She tried to think of something to say that would turn their
attention elsewhere, but before she could do so, a knock came at the front door
and a moment later Lord Anthony and his friend Mr. Turpin were announced.

As she'd hoped, Anthony's eyes lit up when he
saw her. "You are lovelier every time I see you, Miss Seaton," he
declared.

Taking her hand, he bent over it, his eyes
holding hers in a way that made her stomach start to flutter. Harold cleared
his throat loudly, and Anthony's smile widened a fraction. He dropped a
lingering kiss on the back of her gloved hand, then straightened and turned
toward her father.

"Sir George, with your permission, I should
like to extend my dinner invitation to your daughter as well."

Tessa stared. "But—" she began, even
as her father spoke her thoughts, with evident surprise.

"That's very kind of you, Lord Anthony,
but as you yourself pointed out, Ivy Lodge is a bachelor establishment."

"Aye," Harold chimed in
belligerently. "What do you mean by insulting her with such an
invitation?"

Though Anthony's smile did not falter, there
was something in his eyes as he glanced Harold's way that made Harold step back
a pace.

"I would never insult Miss Seaton,"
Anthony said, his voice reminding her somehow of a drawn sword. "As it
happens, Lord Killerby's mother has come to stay with her son during his
convalescence. Lady Killerby's presence at Ivy Lodge makes it perfectly eligible
for Miss Seaton to visit."

"In that case," said Sir George,
"I'm sure my daughter will be delighted to accept. Will you not,
Tessa?"

She smiled, her spirits suddenly soaring at the
prospect of an evening in Anthony's company instead of Harold's. "I will
indeed," she said.

* *
*

CHAPTER 11

Anthony couldn't help enjoying the impotent
fury on Harold Emery's face as he returned Tessa's smile. "I am
delighted," he said with perfect sincerity. "Shall we go, then?"

"Will you not at least have a glass of
sherry first?" asked Sir George.

Anthony shook his head, still smiling. "It
is our turn to play host, Sir George, and I am eager to hear your opinion of
Ivy Lodge —nor do I wish to be scolded by Lady Killerby, should we delay. The
carriage is at the door, so let us get you into it."

Sir George glanced at Tessa, the merest flicker
of nervousness passing over his face, but then he nodded. "Very well,
gentlemen, I put myself in your hands— literally."

As they had planned it between themselves, Thor
stepped forward to grasp the back of Sir George's Merlin chair, while Anthony
bent down to take hold of the front. Between them, they were easily able to
lift man and chair, carrying him through the study door and down the stairs.

Anthony glanced about the hall as they paused
there, noting the changes that had taken place since yesterday. Catching
Tessa's eye, he winked and nodded to show that he understood. She colored
slightly, smiling self-consciously in reply.

Lifting the chair again, Anthony and Thor
carried Sir George out the front door and down the broad steps to the waiting
carriage. There, they carefully helped Sir George from his chair, Thor lifting
him under the arms and Anthony catching him about the knees. Though Tessa hovered
anxiously, they were able to get him into the carriage with little difficulty.

"There. Did I not tell you it would be
quite easy?" Anthony asked. He placed pillows under Sir George's feet
while Thor helped the coachman to tie his chair securely on top of the
carriage.

"You did indeed, though I confess I didn't
quite believe you," Sir George replied. "If I'd any idea it would be
so simple as this, I'd have left the house years ago. I am indebted to you,
Lord Anthony."

Anthony glanced back at Tessa, still standing
outside the carriage, to find her frowning. With a glance at the others, he
quickly moved to her side. "Are you still worried?" he asked softly.
"You need not be, I assure you."

She looked up at him, her brown eyes troubled.
"No, not worried, precisely. It is only, well, I begin to realize how much
I have sheltered him, and to wonder whether it was truly for the best."

Looking down at her, he had to resist a strong
urge to pull her close, to erase the unhappiness from her eyes with a kiss.
"I have not the smallest doubt that you have always acted in what you
believed to be your father's best interests. He is very lucky to have you for a
daughter, Tessa."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Anthony!" Thor called from the
carriage. "Are we going or not?"

Looking up, he saw Harold Emery watching from
the open front door, his eyes narrowed. "Coming!" he called back,
holding out his arm to Tessa, as much to tweak young Emery as out of
politeness. "Shall we?"

She nodded, thanking him again with her eyes.
He escorted her to the carriage and helped her into the seat beside her father
and a moment later they were off, Anthony taking care to distract Sir George
with conversation, so that he would not look too closely at the exterior of
Wheatstone and notice the still-sagging roof of the west wing. Luckily, it
would be dark when they returned.

Sir George himself was quite animated during
the drive, commenting along the way about landmarks he remembered and a few
small changes he noticed in the neighborhood.

In less than twenty minutes they reached Ivy
Lodge. Using the same process in reverse, Thor and Anthony extricated Sir
George from the carriage, seated him in his chair, and carried him up to the
main drawing room. Accepting the glass of sherry Stormy offered him, Sir George
looked around happily.

"How pleasant this is," he exclaimed.
"Really, I must make a habit of this sort of thing."

"I hope that you can do so, Papa,"
Tessa said, and Anthony thought she sounded sincere —though there was still a
trace of worry in her eyes. She then turned to Killer, who was ensconced on a
sofa, his bound foot elevated on a pillow.

"You will excuse me for not rising, will
you not, Miss Seaton?" he asked with a grin, his exuberance dampened not
at all by his injury.

"Of course, Lord Killerby," she
replied warmly. "Are you in much pain?"

He shook his head cheerfully. "Devil a
bit, so long as I stay like this. Even if I were, it would be a small price to
pay for your concern."

Anthony felt obliged to step forward. "The
surgeon says he is mending nicely, though of course he won't be up to any more
foolish antics anytime soon."

"Foolish antics? My William?" came a
voice from the doorway. Everyone turned to see Lady Killerby make her entrance,
resplendant in magenta satin, an enormous green feather sprouting from her
bright yellow turban. "Surely he hasn't managed any yet this evening? I
should hate to have missed them."

Nearer fifty than forty, Lady Killerby was
still a handsome woman with a fine figure, though her fading beauty was rather overshadowed
by her flamboyant choice of attire. Tessa blinked at this unlikely vision
before stepping forward to curtsey.

"Lady Killerby," said Lord Anthony,
"may I present Miss Tessa Seaton and her father, Sir George Seaton."

The dowager pierced Tessa with a searching
gaze, then gave a slight nod before turning to her father. "I'm delighted,
of course, but we need no introduction, do we, Sir George? I'm certain you
won't have forgotten Lily Gilthwaite."

Tessa glanced at her father in surprise, to
find him grinning widely. "No indeed! What a delight to see you again,
Lily —or, should I say, my lady. It has been what, twenty-five years? I was
devastated along with all of the other young men in the country when Lord
Killerby snatched you up."

"Flatterer." Lady Killerby swept out
a pink feathered fan and fluttered it flirtatiously.

While Tessa watched the playful banter between
her father and Lady Killerby with astonishment, Lord Anthony moved to her side.
"I begin to think this visit will be even better for Sir George than I had
predicted. Lady Killerby said nothing beforehand about being previously
acquainted with him."

"I suspect she is a woman who prefers to
preserve the element of surprise," Tessa replied in an undertone.
"Thus she ensures that all attention is hers."

"Now, Tessa, don't begrudge your father
this bit of enjoyment," Anthony chided her softly. "It will do him
more good than harm, I'm certain."

Tessa glanced up at him uncertainly. Was that
what she was doing? Perhaps so, for she couldn't deny a spark of resentment
toward the lady for winning smiles from her Papa so easily. "You're right,
and I'm sorry," she said, determined not to be so selfish in the future.

He patted her shoulder. "There's my girl.
Now, come meet the other members of the Odd Sock Club." He led her across
the room and introduced her to Roger Littleton and Lord Uppingwood. Lord
Rushford and Sir Charles Storm she already knew, of course, and they expressed
their delight in seeing her again.

It was a genial group that went in to dinner a
few minutes later. Tessa found herself seated in the middle of the table, with
Lord Anthony on her right and Lord Uppingwood on her left. Directly across from
her sat Lady Killerby, flanked by her son, his injured foot propped on a low
stool, and Tessa's father.

"What is this I hear of you riding to
hunt, Miss Seaton?" Lady Killerby asked as the soup was served, showing
not the least reticence in speaking across the table. "That's sure to have
raised some eyebrows, eh?"

Tessa glanced at her father in alarm. "Not
. . . not that I've noticed, my lady."

"Pish. People are so prudish these days,
I'd be amazed if it hasn't caused talk. When I was your age, girls had a bit
more freedom, but nowadays it pays to be more circumspect —or so I hear."

"No, Mother, really," Lord Killerby
protested. "Miss Seaton's done nothing improper. Just a bit
unconventional, is all."

"Indeed, ma'am," Sir George put in,
"I made certain the huntmasters were amenable before allowing her to ride,
and her uncle always accompanies her, to preserve propriety."

"Her uncle?" Lady Killerby echoed.
"And who—?"

"Mercer Emery, my Grace's brother,"
Sir George clarified.

She sniffed, making her turban quiver. "Oh
yes, I remember Mercer Emery. Married some local tradesman's daughter, didn't
he?"

"I believe she was a solicitor's
daughter," he replied uncertainly. "She died some twenty years
ago."

"Well, that's neither here nor
there," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "The point—"

"The point," Lord Anthony interrupted
her, "is that Miss Seaton is by no means dependent only upon her uncle's
chaperonage. Sir George can trust me and the rest of the Odd Sock Club to take
care of her safety in the hunt."

Lady Killerby stared. "A lusty group of
single young gentlemen? What earthly good are they? As soon set a fox to take
care of the henhouse and thereby declare it safe."

Tessa felt herself blushing at such plain
speaking, vividly remembering her night alone with Lord Anthony. Heaven
preserve them if Lady Killerby learned of that!

"Indeed, Miss Seaton needs no one to keep
her safe in the hunt," Lord Killerby declared then. "She rides better
than the rest of us put together, so should any man attempt the least thing,
she could simply leave him in her dust."

Those around him chuckled and voiced their agreement.
Tessa felt her cheeks warm even more, but at least her father seemed pleased by
the praise.

Lady Killerby, however, seemed unimpressed.
"Is that so? No, no more of your assurances, gentlemen. I will form my own
opinion tomorrow."

"Then you mean to join the Quorn yourself,
my lady?" Lord Anthony asked in evident surprise.

"Tut. I was never much of a horsewoman,
even in my heyday. I'll follow in my phaeton, as I'm wont to do at home —and as
I did here once or twice in my youth. It will be a fine thing to watch the
Quorn again, I declare! And with me there," she added, "there can be
no question of proper chaperonage of Miss Seaton. That will put paid to any
wagging tongues, I'll be bound."

Tessa noted that her father still looked
uncomfortable. "Really, Lily, I must protest," he said. "I've
heard nothing of any wagging tongues at my Tessa's expense."

The look Lady Killerby turned on him was almost
pitying. "But then you wouldn't, George, dear. Indeed, you'd be the last
to hear —the father always is."

"Then I suppose I must be grateful that
you will be there to lend her added respectability." He shrugged slightly
in response to Tessa's frown.

Lady Killerby appeared not to notice. "You
young men should be thanking me as well, you know," she declared, evidently
enjoying their somewhat scandalized attention. "I know you all consider
yourselves confirmed bachelors, though one or two of you will have to marry
eventually, for your successions." She glanced at her son, who grimaced.

"However," she continued, "you would
all do well to beware of situations that can thwart your intentions —which, I
assure you, clever young ladies are all too adept at creating. None of you, I'm
sure, would care to be
trapped
into marriage. Not, of course, that I am implying Miss Seaton would attempt
such a thing."

Tessa felt her insides contract. She dared not
glance at Lord Anthony, though she was acutely aware of him by her side. That
situation had not been of her devising, of course. Still, it was quite true
that if it became public, he would be obliged to marry her, willing or no.
Thank heaven no one knew of it!

Anthony stirred. "Believe me, my lady, we
need no such caution. We're all well aware of how precarious our enviable
bachelorhood is, are we not, gentlemen?"

A chorus of agreement went round the table,
followed by laughter, and then the conversation moved on to other matters, much
to Tessa's relief. She tried to appear interested and to take her part in the
ensuing discussion of tomorrow's meet, but in truth she still stung from
Anthony's words.

So he saw his freedom as both precarious and
enviable? She was determined, then, that he should never see
her
as any sort of threat to it. No longer would
she harbor foolish hopes that he'd made it clear he had no intention of
fulfilling.

* *
*

The carriage ride home was a trial for Tessa,
for Lord Anthony persisted in complimenting her on how she'd handled Lady
Killerby's interference, which was a constant reminder of that part of the
conversation that now preyed on Tessa's mind.

"Most young ladies would have given her a
right set-down," he was saying, "or at least have felt the need to
defend themselves against her insinuations. You did neither and won her
respect, thereby. I congratulate you, for that's a rare prize, believe
me."