Tessa's Touch (25 page)

"Yes, I suppose that is true," Sir
George confessed, "though I hadn't thought of it in quite that way. Not
that Wheatstone— That is— But where was Tessa Friday night, if not with
Harold?" he asked, looking to Tessa herself for an answer.

An answer she refused to give. Folding her lips
tightly together, she glared at Anthony. All of her arguments against marriage
with him were still valid. He could not force her to implicate him.

"She was with me," Anthony said.

* *
*

CHAPTER 16

"What?" Harold was again on his feet,
and Uncle Mercer came forward as well, his face nearly as angry as his son's.
Curiously, neither Mr. Turpin nor Lord Rushford looked surprised.

"I think you'd better explain yourself,
Lord Anthony," Uncle Mercer said menacingly. "How dare you come here,
pretending to be a friend to Sir George, when all the time—"

"Silence!" shouted Sir George with an
authority that startled Tessa exceedingly. "Lord Anthony, explain
yourself."

Anthony flicked a glance at the two livid
Emerys before turning back to Sir George with a respectful nod. "Of
course, sir. It all stemmed from Lord Killerby's foolishness and Miss Seaton's
generosity." Briefly, he described the events that had led to Tessa's
being trapped at the abandoned cottage overnight.

"I was unwilling to allow her to stay
there alone, for there was no guarantee that the gamekeeper or poacher who
lived there would not return, or that some other untrustworthy person might not
happen by during the night. Therefore, I returned to the cottage and spent the
night there as well."

Slowly, Sir George nodded. "I can
appreciate your dilemma, my lord, and I certainly can't fault you for your
concern for my daughter's safety. However, it would have been wiser to have
come here, so that someone else could be sent to stay with the horse while
Tessa came home to spend the night in her own bed."

"In retrospect, I must agree,"
Anthony said, "but Miss Seaton insisted that the horse would suffer more
if she herself did not stay with him."

She couldn't help feeling grateful that he had
not revealed the full truth —about Nimbus, about her role in helping to sell
such an ill-tempered horse . . . about what had occurred between the two of
them.

"Yes, well, my Tessa does have a special
way with horses," her father admitted with visible pride. "And I
suppose what's done is done. The question, my lord, is what we are to do
now?"

Suddenly seeing her way clear to regaining
control of her life, Tessa spoke up. "Papa, surely we need do nothing, now
that you know the truth? No one outside this room is aware I was even gone, and
I'm sure we can trust everyone here to say nothing of the matter."

Her uncle and cousin would not wish to
facilitate her marriage to Anthony, she was fairly certain, so would hold their
tongues. "I needn't marry Harold or . . . anyone else," she
concluded.

"If we could be certain, perhaps,"
said her father with a worried frown. "But—"

"But there is no guarantee that we were
not seen by anyone else, such as a servant," Anthony said. Abruptly, Tessa
remembered Billy, the stable lad.

"Are you offering to do the honorable
thing, then, my lord?" Sir George asked.

"Honorable!" Harold exclaimed.
"He's simply scheming to have Wheatstone for himself. What makes his offer
more honorable than mine?"

"For one thing, mine would be based on
truth rather than a deception," Anthony said mildly.

Again Tessa felt obliged to intervene.
"Stop it, all of you. There has been no offer —nor is there any necessity
for one. Nothing untoward happened, after all."

They all turned to look at her. Suddenly,
vividly, remembering what
had
occurred that night —and again this very afternoon —Tessa fought desperately
not to blush, knowing that would give the lie to her words. After a moment, her
father turned to Anthony.

"Is that true, my lord?"

Tessa blinked, startled that her father should
require his word in addition to hers, but she was far more surprised by
Anthony's response.

"As a man of honor, I find myself in
rather a delicate position," he said, glancing at Tessa and then away —but
not before she caught the glint of humor in his eyes. "I pride myself on
my honesty, yet a gentleman would never say anything to impugn a lady's
reputation. Therefore, I am unable to answer your question, Sir George."

Her father turned shocked, saddened eyes on
Tessa, making her long to fling herself into his arms and beg his forgiveness.
How could Anthony do this to him—to her?

"As I tried to say before, I am more than
willing to marry Miss Seaton," he said then.

Again, Harold began to protest, but Sir George
held up a hand. "Under the circumstances, my lord, I fear that is the only
course open to you—to you both."

"But—" Tessa began, but her father
shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Tessa, but this puts an
entirely different light on things —as I'm sure you must realize."

"It does indeed," said Uncle Mercer
from across the room. "However, I wonder if Lord Anthony would be so, ah,
eager to do the right thing if he knew—"

"Mercer!" Sir George all but barked
the name, startling him to silence. "Tessa, I believe it might be best if
you left us for a time . . . so that we can discuss the particulars."

For a moment, Tessa sat motionless, unable to
believe that her brief glimpse of freedom had been so suddenly snatched away,
and even more stunned that Anthony, whom she had trusted, had done this to her.
She would not let him—let any of them —see her cry, however. She'd done far too
much of that of late. With one withering glance at Anthony, she stalked out of
the room.

Anthony watched her go with more than a little
regret. He'd carried his main point, but he had lost Tessa's trust —and perhaps
her regard —in the process. He hoped it was not gone past rebuilding.
Meanwhile, he had other matters to resolve.

"You were saying, Emery?" he prompted
the elder of his antagonists.

Ignoring a pleading glance from Sir George, Mr.
Emery smiled unpleasantly. "I can't say I'm terribly surprised to learn
that my niece has landed herself in such trouble, though I'm pained, of course.
Doubly so, because it brings old wounds to the surface. But blood will out,
they say—isn't that true, Sir George?"

"Don't, Mercer. Please." There was
real anguish in Sir George's voice, but his brother-in-law appeared unmoved.

"It seems only fair that Lord Anthony know
the truth," he said. "About your daughter's birth."

Anthony started, though his resolve never
wavered. He knew already that his parents would not approve his choice. But
even if they cut him off entirely, it scarcely mattered, as he spent so little
time with his family anyway. He was more concerned about Sir George —and Tessa.

"Sir, if this truth, whatever it is,
upsets you, rest assured that I will not insist upon hearing it," Anthony
said now.

The older man gave him a sad smile. "No,
Mercer is right. You should know —but I will ask you not to tell Tessa. I'd not
have her memory of her mother tainted in any way, particularly for something
that was entirely my own fault."

"Your fault, sir?" Anthony asked in
surprise. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Sir George stared into the fire, his eyes misty
with reminiscence. "Grace was the most beautiful woman I'd ever known. I
loved her to distraction and, in time, won her love in return. It mattered
nothing to me that her father was our horse-trainer, but my own father was
incensed. He was the first baronet, you see, and considered the honor hard-won.
It made him acutely conscious of our position in Society, of what people
thought of us—of him. He was determined that I should make a brilliant match,
to further elevate our social standing."

He sighed, shaking his head. "He never
understood that the match I made was the most brilliant one imaginable. My
father forbade our marriage. Grace refused to come between me and my father, or
risk her own father's position here, so she ran away. Alas, we had already been
rather . . . imprudent, though I had no idea, when she left, of the result of
our indiscretion."

"I take it she was already with child
—with Tessa?" Anthony prompted when Sir George paused again.

With a sigh, he nodded. "Aye. By the time
I found her, she was near her time. As soon as she could travel after the
birth, I convinced her to accompany me to Ireland so that we could be married
—for the sake of the child. My father died just a few months later and we were able
to return to Wheatstone."

"Where you told everyone you'd married
right after Grace ran away," said Mercer Emery sourly. "Luckily for
my sister, no one here in Leicestershire knew when the marriage took
place."

Anthony regarded Tessa's uncle through narrowed
eyes. "But you discovered it?"

"Aye. She confessed the truth to me once,
when I was grieved over the death of my wife, nigh on twenty years ago."

"And you've held it over Sir George's head
ever since."

It was a statement, not a question, and it made
the steward flush an ugly shade of red. "What are you implying?" he
demanded.

Anthony looked from him to his son and back.
"It's clear that Sir George feels strongly about preserving his late
wife's memory —quite understandably. It's also clear that neither of you are
particularly well-suited to your occupations here, which tells me that you've
had to exert some hold over Sir George to retain them. Family loyalty only goes
so far, after all."

"I've had about enough of your
insults," Harold Emery exclaimed, stepping forward belligerently.
"It's one thing for Tessa to criticize my work, but I don't have to take
that from the likes of you."

Anthony faced him, a slight smile playing about
his lips. "Is that a challenge, Mr. Emery?"

Rather to his disappointment, Harold backed
down immediately. "I, er, not exactly. But—"

"Sit down, Harold," his father said
impatiently. "Even if what you say is true, Lord Anthony, what do you
propose to do about it? Convince Sir George to turn us off?"

Anthony looked at Sir George, who was still
staring into the fire, looking troubled. "Sir?" he asked gently.

Finally he raised his head, meeting Anthony's
gaze. "You're right, my lord —but so is Mercer. I'll risk my estate before
I'll risk Grace's name, or Tessa's. Incompetence is no crime, in any
event."

Rush, who, with Thor, had remained motionless
and silent throughout all of this remarkable exchange, suddenly spoke.
"No, but embezzlement is."

"Embezzlement?" Sir George echoed in
surprise.

Now the elder Mr. Emery looked as pugnacious as
his hot-tempered son. "I doubt you can prove such an accusation, my
lord."

"I rather suspect I can," said Rush,
coming forward and pulling a card from inside his coat. "Sir George, I
have here the name of my own man of business, whom I am willing to have spend a
few days going over your account books. He is known for both his thoroughness
and his integrity."

Mercer Emery blanched visibly, then, realizing
that all eyes were upon him, fell back on bluster. "There's no need to
bring in outsiders, Sir George, for what is a family matter. Besides, it was
your daughter who insisted—"

"Yes, Tessa told me that she'd enlisted
your help to keep me ignorant of the estate's true condition. That must have
been extremely convenient, allowing you to play on her sympathies even as you
plundered her inheritance." There was no vagueness in Sir George's
expression now.

Mercer shook his head, his eyes darting about
at the others in the room. "No! It . . . it wasn't like that."

"Suppose we let Mr. Frobish determine
that," Rush suggested. "Or, in the alternative, perhaps we can give
Mr. Emery the opportunity to leave his post voluntarily instead?"

"Mercer?" Sir George said.

Emery's face went from white to red. "Very
well, then. If family means so little to you, I will be gone by morning —and
Harold, too. We'll see how well Wheatstone does with no steward at all—and no
trainer for your stables."

He stalked to the door. "Come,
Harold," he snapped, and his son, who had been standing openmouthed
listening to the exchange, jerked to life and followed him from the room. The
others could hear them arguing as they went upstairs to pack their belongings.

Sir George still looked worried. "I fear
that they are more than capable of dragging my name —and worse, Tessa's—
through the dirt, out of revenge. But if they were truly stealing from
her—"

"You had no choice, sir," Anthony
assured him. "Already, they were getting greedier —thus their plot to
force Tessa into marriage with her cousin. They had to be stopped."

"Aye," said Sir George with a heavy
sigh. "I just hope the price will not be too high —for Tessa."

"Leave the Emerys to us, Sir George,"
said Thor, speaking for the first time. "We are not without influence in
this area, you know. If they try to spread their poison, we will be ready to
counteract it, I promise you."

For the first time since the uncomfortable
interview began, their host smiled. "Thank you. Thank you all . . . for
everything. But now, I find myself quite tired. Still, I believe I shall sleep
better tonight than I have in an age."

* *
*

Less than a week later, Tessa found herself
exchanging marriage vows in the village church. While she was exceedingly
grateful that it was Anthony and not Harold at her side, she had not completely
forgiven him for the shock he'd occasioned her father, or for taking her
destiny out of her hands.