Tessa's Touch (29 page)

Tessa knew the hand she placed into Anthony's
as he helped her from the carriage was trembling. She had never felt so unequal
to anything in her life. What good was her one talent now? None at all.

Desperately, she tried to remember the proper
way to curtsey to a duke. Why had she not found a private moment to practice it
before they left Leicestershire?

"You'll be fine."

Anthony's whispered assurance told her that her
panic must be evident on her face. Quickly, she tried to smooth her features
into some semblance of calm and dignity, though she doubted her success. Her
heart in her throat, she accompanied her new husband up the broad marble steps
and through the double front doors, held wide by a pair of satin-liveried
footmen.

The elegance of the front hall surpassed
Tessa's wildest imaginings, with its floor of intricately patterned black and
white marble, mahogany panelling and undoubtedly priceless works of art
displayed on walls and in alcoves. She barely had time to take it in before
Anthony ushered her through another pair of tall doors, this one leading into a
parlor sumptuously hung with gold.

Several people rose at their entrance, and an
imposing man with silvering hair and penetrating, pale gray eyes came forward
to peer down his hawklike nose at her. "This, I presume, is the newest
addition to our family?" he asked in icy tones.

Tessa released Anthony's arm to sink into her
lowest curtsey, barely hearing Anthony's response. One leg began to shake,
unused to such a position, so she glanced up, expecting either Anthony or the
Duke to take her hand to help her to rise. Instead, she saw them all but
glaring at each other, apparently engaged in some contest of wills, while she
quivered below, in her absurd pose.

Afraid her leg would give out on her, she tried
to rise on her own, only to overbalance and end up ignominiously sprawled on
the floor of the elegant Marland House parlor.

* *
*

CHAPTER 18

Anthony broke free of his father's censorious
stare to kneel in guilty concern. "Tessa! Are you all right?" he
asked. How could he have forgotten her, even for a moment, knowing how nervous
she was?

Already, Tessa was scrambling to her feet, her
face bright red with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," she said to him
in an anguished whisper. Then, to his father, "I do apologize, Your Grace.
I . . . I am most honored to meet you."

The Duke quirked one eyebrow, but his mouth
remained in a grim line. "Perhaps you would like to compose yourself
before dinner, Lady Anthony. My son will show you to your chamber."

"Of course," Anthony said, fighting a
wild urge to knock his own father down for treating Tessa so dismissively.

A glance showed his mother, his brother Robert,
Lord Bagstead, and Lady Bagstead, all looking shocked and disapproving. Best to
get Tessa out of this poisonous atmosphere as quickly as possible, he decided,
wondering where Edward, Peter and Marcus were.

"I'm sorry," he told her as soon as
they were out of the room. "I should have—"

"Pray don't apologize," she
interrupted him. "It only makes me feel worse. How can I be so
accomplished a rider and so very clumsy doing something as simple as a curtsey?
I've doubtless confirmed their worst fears about me." She looked ready to
cry.

Anthony paused on the landing to put an arm
around her shoulders. "Tessa, please don't distress yourself so. My
parents are enough to frighten royalty into momentary clumsiness. They may be
obnoxiously high in the instep, but I'm sure they don't think poorly of you for
losing your balance— particularly when I left you down there so long. Much of
the blame is indeed mine, for letting my father distract me from my duty to
you."

She took a long, shuddering breath. "You
are very good to me, Anthony —far better than I deserve. Perhaps if I'd paid
more attention to my lessons in deportment, instead of always being so wild to
go riding—"

"Then you might have become like those
simpering misses I've made it a point to avoid," he said, guiding her up
the next flight of stairs. He hoped to make her smile, but she did not.

"Or perhaps I would not now be such an
embarrassment to you."

There were two footmen stationed along the
hallway, so he ushered her into the room he occupied during his infrequent
stays at Marland House and closed the door before taking her face between his
hands.

"You are in no way an embarrassment to me,
Tessa. Quite the reverse, in fact, for I am sure to be the envy of everyone for
securing such a lovely wife." Her eyes still doubted him, so he gathered
her to him for a kiss that started as mere reassurance, but which soon became
passionate.

He slid his hands down her back to cup her
bottom, pulling her more tightly against his rising arousal. "Can you
doubt that you make me happy?" he murmured against her lips.

Her lips curved against his in a smile—
finally. "At least when we are alone," she said, laying her cheek
against his chest so that he could not see her expression. "Can we perhaps
stay here and have our dinner sent up?"

"What, and admit defeat? I thought you
more courageous than that, Tessa," he said, only half teasing.

"I don't think I can face your family
again —not yet. Not after making such a fool of myself just now." She
looked up at him, pleadingly.

Had he made a terrible mistake in bringing her
to London? He'd thought to prove to her that she could handle herself as well
here as in the country, to overcome her doubts about herself. Was he instead
only reinforcing them?

"Of course you can face them, Tessa,"
he said with more confidence than he felt. "They are only people, after
all, flesh, blood and bone like every other creature. What is the worst thing
you can do when a horse displays bad temper toward you?"

"Show fear," she answered promptly.
"Oh. But . . . this is not the same."

"Isn't it? Think of my parents as
particularly obstreperous horses whose trust and confidence you have to win.
They may be skittish and aloof at first, but I've no doubt that you will win
them over in time."

Though she still looked skeptical, she finally
nodded. "Very well. I'll try—for your sake."

Would she never do anything for her own sake?
He almost asked it aloud, but then realized that might undercut her
determination. "Thank you. Just remember, you've broken far more
frightening beasts than those waiting below."

Twenty minutes later, clad in her best gown of
pale blue satin, Tessa accompanied Anthony back downstairs with considerably
more trepidation than she'd felt when approaching the wild black stallion,
Vulcan. On reentering the parlor, she saw that two more couples had arrived.

"Ah, Peter, Marcus," Anthony
exclaimed. "I'm delighted to see you both, and to present you to my bride.
Tessa, my two younger brothers and their wives, Lady Peter and Lady
Marcus."

Luckily the newcomers required only the shallowest
of curtsies, which Tessa was able to perform without mishap, though she
couldn't bring herself to look at those who had witnessed her earlier disaster.
Instead, she forced a smile to her lips and focused on the new arrivals.

To her surprise, all four of them were smiling,
making her worry for a moment that she'd done something wrong after all. But
then the short, dark-haired lady— Lady Marcus? —came toward her with hands
outstretched.

"I'm delighted to meet you, Lady Anthony
—or may I call you Tessa?" Her accent was decidedly American. "And
you must call me Quinn. I'm sorry we were not here to greet you when you first
arrived." A sidelong glance toward the original four occupants of the room
told Tessa that she had heard an account of that meeting.

Though she felt herself blushing again at the
reminder, she forced herself to speak, not wanting to appear ungrateful for
such a friendly overture. "I thank you . . . Quinn. And yes, please do
call me Tessa. I . . . am unused to formality."

"Informality is becoming quite the
epidemic in this family, I perceive," said Lady Bagstead sourly from
across the room. "I believe I speak for the Duke and Duchess, as well as
Lord Bagstead, when I say that it is important to preserve the dignity of the
position that the name of Northrup holds."

The Duchess nodded. "I quite agree.
Therefore, I trust that those of you who feel compelled to refer to each other
so familiarly will confine your use of Christian names to private gatherings
such as this one."

Now Quinn colored and Tessa sent her an
apologetic glance for involving her new sister-in-law in her own disgrace.
However, the dark-haired girl lifted her chin to regard the Duchess with a
touch of defiance.

"Of course, Your Grace. Sarah and I have
always been careful to observe the proprieties when in public, as I'm sure
Tessa will do as well. If you prefer, we can refrain from behaving in a
friendly manner while in your presence, as well."

Lady Bagstead's eyes widened in horror, but the
Duchess only lifted a brow. "That will not be necessary, of course.
Propriety and family affection are not mutually exclusive. Have a mind for the
servants, however."

Quinn nodded demurely, then glanced at Tessa,
her eyes now twinkling. "Now you know why we didn't get here
earlier," she whispered, leading her over to Lords Peter and Marcus, whom
Anthony had already joined.

He took her hand as she reached him, drawing
her into the group. "I'll say again how glad I am that you all came,
especially on such short notice. I really didn't want Tessa to think our whole
family was like that."

"I assure you, we are not," Lord
Peter said, sweeping her an exaggerated bow, though he kept his voice as low as
Anthony's. His coat was of deep turquoise and his waistcoat of sky blue, in
marked contrast to the somber attire of the other gentlemen present. "It
is a constant source of chagrin to our father that only one of his sons is
properly stuffy."

Lord Marcus nodded his agreement. "Edward,
our eldest brother save Robert, is a good sort as well. His wife is approaching
her confinement, however, so they have retired to the country early this
year."

"I am very pleased to make your
acquaintance, as well as Anthony's," said Lord Peter's wife, a dazzlingly
lovely blonde. "We were both delighted when we got word this morning of
your marriage. You must call me Sarah —at least when the Duchess is not
about." Her smile was as genuinely friendly as Quinn's.

Tessa smiled in return, though between Quinn's
petite stature and Sarah's ethereal beauty she felt like a sturdy peasant
woman. She learned that both were also recent brides, Quinn since the summer
and Sarah only a month married, and that both marriages had been as hasty as
her own, to the disapproval of the four eldest members of the family.

"So you see," concluded Quinn after a
brief explanation, "your match is quite in keeping with the new family
tradition."

The others all chuckled and Tessa began to
relax. Perhaps she was not quite so dreadfully out of place in this family as
she had feared. Certainly, it was pleasant to suddenly have two sisters-in-law
who seemed eager to become friends as well. It occurred to her that she'd never
really had a close girlfriend.

By the time they all went in to dinner, she was
chatting with Quinn and Sarah as though they'd known each other for years.

"You and Quinn must go riding
together," Sarah was saying, "for it sounds as though it's a passion
you share."

"Perhaps we can all go," Tessa said,
delighted at the idea of spending more time with her new sisters-in-law, but
Sarah shook her head.

"I'm no horsewoman, I fear, for I've had
little practice, though Peter is teaching me. I would love to watch,
however."

It was agreed among them that if the weather
accomodated, they would ride in the Park tomorrow. Anthony promised to procure
a mount for Tessa from his father's stables or from one of his brothers, as
Cinnamon was still in Leicestershire.

Once they were all seated in the austerely
opulent dining room, the group became more subdued under the watchful eyes of
the Duchess and her eldest daughter-in-law. Tessa, seated at the Duke's right
hand, hardly dared speak at all, managing only brief responses if someone
directed a query to her.

Anthony and his younger brothers were more
animated, occasionally poking subtle fun at their eldest brother. Lord Bagstead
seemed largely oblivious, though Tessa noticed that the Duke sent more than one
disapproving frown their way.

Not surprisingly, strict formality was observed
in the matter of the ladies removing to the parlor as soon as the meal ended,
leaving the gentlemen to whatever it was gentlemen did when alone. The Duchess
led the way, followed by Lady Bagstead.

Tessa was distressed to discover she was to go
next, as Anthony was the next eldest son present, followed by Sarah and then
Quinn. No such ceremony was observed in the country —at least, not among any of
the families she knew —so this extra bit of pomp took her by surprise and
struck her as both unnecessary and a bit ridiculous.

"Now, Augusta," said the Duchess to
Lady Bagstead once they were all seated in the parlor, "do tell me how
dear little William does. I spoke with his nurse yesterday, but she told me
only that he is in fine health."

"He is indeed, Your Grace," replied
Lady Bagstead in the pleasantest tones Tessa had yet heard her use. "I'm
sure you will agree that he is exceptionally large for only five years old, and
promises to grow into a tall and handsome young man. His speech is quite
advanced for his age, as well."

The two continued to discuss the boy, whom
Quinn informed Tessa was next in line for the dukedom after Lord Bagstead and
therefore of particular importance. "I rather doubt that dear Rosalie,
Edward's wife, will receive so much attention when her child makes its
appearance," she said in an undertone.

"Though, to be fair, the Duchess really
does seem to dote on little William as any fond grandmother might," Sarah
put in. "Perhaps she will show similar affection for Edward's child, even
if it should have the misfortune to be a girl." They all chuckled quietly.

All too soon for Tessa's comfort, the Duchess
turned her attention from her grandson back to her newest daughter-in-law,
asking her about Wheatstone and her parents. As at dinner, Tessa gave the
briefest answers possible without rudeness, unwilling to volunteer any information
that would give her autocratic mother-in-law yet more reason to despise her.

"I presume that gown is representative of
your wardrobe?" the Duchess asked then.

Tessa glanced down at her very best gown, which
she had already realized looked hopelessly dowdy next to the fashionable
ensembles of the other ladies. "I . . . Yes, Your Grace."

"I feared as much. I should like to think
my son would have made certain —but no. Anthony never did pay proper attention
to such things. Still, you must have something better if you are to attend Lady
Twyford's ball with us, two nights hence."