Tessa's Touch (34 page)

Abrubtly, memory returned: the glittering
ballroom, the evening that had started so well and ended so disastrously, her
bedtime conversation with her husband . . . his sudden loss of interest in her
kisses. Or had she dreamed that part?

But no, a glance at the other side of the bed
showed that she had been the only occupant, her pillow the only one dented by
use. Sitting up, she bit her lip, fighting down her disappointment. It was the
first night since their wedding that they hadn't—

Quickly, she rose, banishing that thought,
trying not to blow it out of proportion. She had been tired. So had he. Still,
it seemed a depressing harbinger of how last night's events would affect their
marriage.

A tap at the door was immediately followed by
Sally, bearing a tray of toast and chocolate —the very luxury she had imagined,
but which today seemed a lonely way to breakfast.

"I thought you might be wanting a bit of
something, my lady," the maid said, setting the tray on a low table.
"Or would you like to dress first?"

Tessa took a sip of chocolate, but found its
sweetness cloying. "What time is it, Sally?"

"Close on eleven o' clock, my lady, but
Lord Anthony said I wasn't to wake you. Lady Marcus just arrived to see if you
wanted to go riding, so I brought up a tray, in case you were up. She says it
is quite the thing to walk or ride in the Park after services on Sunday —though
of course you slept through those."

Though amazed that she could have slept so
late, Tessa realized she must have needed the sleep. Quickly, she made a
decision.

"Run and tell Lady Marcus I will be down
directly, then come back and help me into my new habit." A ride would be
just the thing to clear the cobwebs from her brain and make her feel like
herself again.

* *
*

"I still can't get over how well you
manage that horse," Quinn said as she and Tessa entered the Park gates.
"It was all I could do to lead him from the mews to Marland House without
him biting my Tempest." She patted her mare's neck.

Tessa smiled, determined not to mind that
Anthony had not offered to come along. She told herself that he had doubtless
believed that she and Quinn wanted time alone to discuss feminine matters,
unlikely as that might seem for one as little accustomed to feminine pursuits as
herself.

"I believe he is calmer today than he was
before, don't you?" she asked, mainly to divert her thoughts.

"Oh, yes. I wouldn't have dared lead him
before. Which also amazes me— that in scarcely more than an hour on his back,
you have already effected a permanent change in him. Have you considered
training horses yourself?"

Tessa sent her a sharp look, but she appeared
to be quite serious. "Actually, that has been my dream for years, though
of course my father would never allow it. Think how that would scandalize
Society, after the way they reacted to learning about my grandfather."

"Oh, pooh," said Quinn dismissively.
"Society places far too much store on such things, in my opinion —but
then, that is my American upbringing speaking, I suppose. My own father was as
insistent that I observe the proprieties as yours has been —not that I always
obeyed," she added a wink.

"Nor have I," Tessa confessed.
"In fact—" But she stopped short of admitting that her poor judgment
had ultimately resulted in her marriage. It would be to admit that Anthony
likely would not have wed her under normal circumstances, and she could not
bear to voice that thought aloud.

Luckily, a diversion occurred to distract Quinn
from Tessa's unfinished sentence. Lady Bagstead was entering the Park gates
just then in a dark green high-perch phaeton, handling the ribbons herself. A
small boy sat at her side.

"Good day, my lady," Quinn greeted
her cheerfully. "And good day to you, too, William. Out for your Sunday
drive with your mother? How grown up you look today!"

The little boy beamed, but the Marchioness
looked less than pleased. "Lord Northing, if you please. I did not know
you and Lady Anthony meant to ride today." She glanced about.
"Perhaps it would be best if you did not spend too much time speaking with
me—or my son— until we know whether Lord Peter's plan will work."

"Afraid of contagion, my lady?" Quinn
asked sarcastically, with a sidelong glance at Tessa.

But Tessa had been watching Lady Bagstead's
horses, a beautifully matched pair of chestnuts. The one on the left kept
trying to throw up its head, its ears flicking backwards in evident irritation,
rolling its eyes at every sound. The other, virtually identical in appearance,
was calmer, but still skittish.

The temperaments of both horses seemed
remarkably ill-suited for a lady's carriage.

"Have you often driven this pair together,
my lady?" Tessa asked, interrupting Lady Bagstead's rambling explanation
of how proximity to Tessa could damage her standing in Society.

She blinked. "Why, no. I just purchased
them this week past. Are they not a handsome pair?" she asked with a
sidelong glance at Tessa's unattractive mount.

"They are lovely, yes. Did they give you
no trouble on your drive to the Park?" Perhaps her concern was misplaced.

"A groom drove here," she replied,
and Tessa noticed a man in Marland livery hovering just outside the gates.
"Then I took the ribbons, as I always do in the Park. It's quite
fashionable, you know. But then, I suppose you
wouldn't
know."

Tessa sent a questioning glance at the groom,
who was looking rather worried, but he only shook his head and shrugged.
"Forgive me, my lady, but I can't help thinking this pair may be rather
difficult to handle, particularly for a lady. Consider William—"

"Lord Northing," Lady Bagstead
snapped. "I wish him to grow accustomed to his title and position as heir.
And how dare you attempt to advise
me
on any matter whatsoever?"

Though her cheeks burned at the rebuke, Tessa
felt conscience bound to make one more effort. "I was thinking only of
your son's safety, my lady —and your own. If the horses should—"

"And now you criticize my driving, as
well?" the Marchioness huffed, glancing about again. The Park was growing
quite crowded, and several people were now watching them with interest.
"Good day, Lady Anthony."

With a flick of her fashionable whip, she set
the pair into a brisk trot, heedless of the way the phaeton swayed when one
started off more quickly than the other. Tessa frowned after them.

"Foolish woman," she muttered. "But
perhaps I should have—"

"You did try, Tessa," Quinn assured
her. "I don't know what else you could have —Oh! Oh, look!"

Tessa turned back to watch with horror. As the
phaeton neared the Serpentine, a pair of swans took flight only a few yards
away. The chestnut on the left shied violently and tried to rear, causing its
mate to pull in the opposite direction. The phaeton, a precarious enough
vehicle under the best of circumstances, lurched and swayed.

"Hurry, Tessa," Quinn exclaimed.
"Perhaps you can—"

The rest of her sentence was lost, as Tessa was
already kicking her mount into a canter. Before she could reach the phaeton,
however, Lady Bagstead foolishly brought her whip into play and with that extra
goad the pair bolted.

With an unladylike curse, Tessa urged the rangy
skewbald into a full gallop. Surely the Park rules did not apply in an
emergency? People and horses were leaping out of the way of the careening
phaeton as it sped along the path, first on one wheel and then the other. It
could only be a matter of moments before it went over.

"Come on, fellow, we can do it,"
Tessa called to her horse, and he increased his speed until he fairly flew down
the path, closing the gap with the runaway phaeton. She guided him alongside
it, so that she could draw level with the panicked horse on the left.
"Closer, closer," she chanted, both to herself and to her mount.

Responding to reins and the angle of her body,
the skewbald drew within a foot or two of the chestnut. Wishing desperately
that she were riding astride, Tessa leaned as far as the sidesaddle would allow
and managed to get a hand on the chestnut's bridle. It tried to jerk away, but
she held on grimly while her mount obediently matched speed.

"Calm down, calm down, it's all
right," she called to the chestnut, putting every bit of her soothing lilt
into her voice, despite her own fear. If only she could get a hand on the
horse—

Though the phaeton still rocked wildly from
side to side, the chestnuts slowed to a canter.

"That's better, that's better, you're
doing fine," Tessa sang out, above the thundering of all three sets of
hooves. With an extra stretch that nearly unseated her, she managed to touch
the chestnut's jaw and stroked with quick fingers. "Slow down, now, slow
down," she chanted.

The wild look left the chestnut's eyes and he
slowed to a trot, his partner matching his pace. The phaeton steadied back on
both wheels, swaying only slightly now. Though the main danger was past, Tessa
did not take her hand away or stop cooing to the horses until they came to a
complete stop.

Only then did she realize that she had come
more than halfway out of her own saddle and was hanging off of the skewbald at
a precarious angle. Still, she waited until someone —some gentleman on a black
horse —took control of the chestnuts before attempting to right herself.

"Steady, boy," she murmured to the
skewbald as she awkwardly heaved herself back into position on the sidesaddle.
"You may be ugly, but you're a noble fellow," she told the horse,
gratefully patting his neck.

Heaving a sigh of relief, she began to
straighten her hat, which had slipped over one eye, when the sound of cheering
made her look around. A large crowd had come up to surround them and they were
all smiling and applauding. Startled, she looked toward the phaeton. Lady
Bagstead was clutching William to her, sobbing hysterically. The man holding
the chestnuts' heads shrugged slightly, then relinquished the reins to her
ladyship's groom, who came panting up just then.

"Three cheers for the heroine!" the
man called out to the crowd. Immediately, they took up the cheer, much to
Tessa's embarrassment. At least they didn't know her name.

Quinn came up beside her, her face still pale
with her recent fright. "Three cheers for Lady Anthony!" she cried.

"Lady Anthony," roared the crowd.
"Hurrah for Lady Anthony! Hip, hip, hurrah!"

Tessa's face was burning now, and she scarcely
knew which way to turn. Then, behind her, she heard little William take up the
cheer. Another surge of relief washed over her that she had stopped the phaeton
in time. Glancing back to smile at the boy, she saw Lady Bagstead wiping her
eyes.

With a shuddering sigh, the plump Marchioness
gave Tessa a shaky smile. "Hip, hip, hurrah," she said with the
crowd.

* *
*

CHAPTER 21

The news reached Marland House even before
Tessa, Quinn and Lady Bagstead returned from the Park. A breathless footman,
completely heedless of protocol, burst into the library, where Anthony and his
brothers were all closeted with the Duke, taking the opportunity to discuss
various family and estate business.

"Beggin' your pardon, Your Grace, but I
thought you'd want to hear right away," the footman panted to their
astonished faces. "I was runnin' an errand over by Park Lane and heard the
hubbub at Grosvenor Gate. It'll be all over London in an hour, I'm
thinking."

"What will? Out with it, man,"
commanded the Duke.

"Why, how Lady Anthony saved Lady
Bagstead's life, Your Grace —and little Lord Northing's, as well. Stopped a
runaway carriage single-handedly, the way I heard it. But no doubt they'll all
be home soon and you can hear the story direct."

Even as he spoke, Anthony heard a commotion in
the hall. He leaped up and hurried out of the library, his brothers and father
on his heels, all dignity forgotten.

"Tessa! Are you all right?" he
exclaimed as his very disheveled wife entered on Quinn's arm.

She looked up at him rather dazedly, but Quinn
was grinning. "All right? Lord Anthony, your wife is the bravest woman
—nay, the bravest person —I've ever seen!"

Before he could do more than stare confusedly,
Robert pushed past him. "Never mind that. Where is Augusta? And William?
Is William safe?"

"What is going on?" demanded the
Duchess, descending the staircase just then to add to the confusion in the
hall. "Why on earth is everyone shouting? This is most—"

"Augusta!" Robert exclaimed,
interrupting his mother as his wife came in, supported by a groom. He hugged
his wife and then his son, in the most indecorous —and human —show of affection
Anthony had ever witnessed in his eldest brother. "Are you all right? Are
you both all right?"

Lady Bagstead nodded, the evidence of recent
tears on her strained face. "Yes, yes, we are both safe . . . thanks to
Lady Anthony. Oh, Robert, I was so frightened." She threw herself back
into her husband's arms.

"It was terribly exciting, Father,"
little William piped up. "The horses ran away with us and we were bouncing
all over the place and Mother was screaming like anything! Then Lady Anthony
rode up on her big spotted horse and just grabbed the reins and the horses
calmed down —like magic! All of the people cheered and cheered. And then we
came home."

Everyone turned to regard Tessa, who still
stood rather awkwardly in the doorway. "I, er, could think of nothing else
to do," she stammered, blushing deeply. "I know it was terribly
unladylike of me, but—"

The Duke came forward to take her hands in both
of his and she stopped, gazing up at him fearfully.

"It seems we owe you a great debt of
gratitude, my dear," he said in the kindest tone Anthony had ever heard
him use. "Had you not been so quick-witted —and so skilled— Augusta and my
grandson could easily have been killed. I, for one, am exceedingly glad that
you were there . . . and that you are a member of this family."

Robert nodded. "As am I."

"And I," echoed the Duchess and Lady
Bagstead, both smiling at Tessa for the first time since Anthony had brought
her to London.

Anthony moved to put an arm around Tessa's
shoulders, pulling her against his side. She was trembling. "I can't say
I'm surprised, but I'm very, very proud. Thank you, Tessa," he said.

Then, to the others, "If you don't mind,
I'd like to take my wife up to her chamber. I imagine Robert would like to do
the same with his wife. Both ladies have had a rather . . . full morning."

Everyone chuckled at this understatement, their
laughter a release of tension.

"An excellent proposal," said the
Duke, while the Duchess gave directions for hot baths to be prepared.
"Lady Marcus, suppose you give us a complete account while our heroine and
poor Lady Bagstead freshen and compose themselves. And then, my dear," he
said to the Duchess, "I suggest you see how quickly you can throw together
a ball. I should say this event calls for a celebration."

It was truly remarkable what money, power and
determination could achieve, Tessa thought, gazing about at the glittering
ballroom of Marland House the next evening. In only four-and-twenty hours,
extra servants had been hired, all manner of delicacies prepared, and the cream
of Society assembled for the Duchess of Marland's impromptu ball.

After her bath yesterday afternoon, Anthony had
insisted upon treating Tessa almost like an invalid, bringing her tea and
dainties in bed and regaling her with every amusing story he could bring to
mind. When she had insisted that she felt fine, he had only smiled and shaken
his head.

"Quinn told us exactly what you did,"
he'd said. "You risked your life, Tessa, to save someone who has treated
you most shabbily. In my opinion, there is no pampering, no reward, you do not
deserve for such a selfless act."

"I only did it because no one else
could," she told him, bemused by the pride and love shining in his eyes as
he gazed at her. "You'd have done the same, had you been there."

He kissed her tenderly on the cheek.
"Perhaps. But I doubt I'd have had the same success. You have a special
gift, Tessa. Today you have proved it once again."

He had kissed her on the lips then, and further
discussion was abandoned as they reaffirmed their joy at being alive —at being
together —in the most satisfying way possible. Now, though, Tessa recalled his
words thoughtfully.

Perhaps it was true that no one else could have
done what she had yesterday. Always, she had felt certain she'd been given her
ability with horses for a reason. Not for profit, not for pride, but for some
higher purpose. Looking at little William, who had been given special
dispensation to attend the first hour of the ball, she suddenly felt profoundly
grateful for that gift.

"May I have this dance?" Anthony
asked in her ear as the orchestra struck up the opening minuet.

Turning, she smiled up at him, feeling that her
heart might overflow. "Of course."

That evening was everything Tessa had ever
imagined in all of her fantasies about a London debut —and more. It turned out
that the gentleman who had taken the reins of the phaeton had been the Duke of
Wellington himself —and that he had spread the story far and wide among the
highest tiers of Society.

Now, gentlemen clamored to dance with Tessa,
while ladies and gentlemen alike went out of their way to speak to her, to tell
her how much they admired her courage and skill with horses.

Anthony, at her side, beamed with pride, which
brought her more pleasure still, after all of her worries about embarrassing him.
Lady Bagstead had apologized repeatedly for her earlier coldness, and the Duke
and Duchess had made a point of presenting her to the Prince Regent, who had
put in an appearance at the ball just to meet the new heroine.

"I should say your success is assured,"
Anthony told her as they concluded the waltz before supper. "Every door in
England will be open to you now."

"Do you really think so?" Tessa
asked, remembering how everyone had acted toward her only two nights earlier.
"Society seems so fickle."

"Not when true heroism is involved.
Indeed, hostesses will vie for your attendance at their entertainments, to give
them added cachet. If you'd like, we can spend the winter in Town so that you
may bask in your new popularity."

Though the idea had a certain appeal, she shook
her head. "No, what I should really like to do is go home —to Wheatstone.
Do you think your parents will mind, now that I am no longer a liability to
your family?"

"I don't care whether they mind or
not." He gave her a quick, scandalous kiss. "If that is what you
wish, that is what we will do," he promised. "In fact, if you like,
we can leave for Leicestershire the day after tomorrow."

Tessa smiled up at him, her heart again full.
"Thank you, Anthony. I'd like that very much."

* *
*

As the coach rolled up Wheatstone's long drive,
Tessa drank in the sights and smells of home. It seemed as though she'd been
away for months, rather than a mere ten days. Much as she'd enjoyed the return
journey, she was glad it was nearly over. Not only was she eager to see her
father again, the long hours in the carriage had made her restless.

"The Quorn meets tomorrow," Anthony
said suddenly, as though reading her thoughts. "What say you we ride with
them?"

She turned from the window in pleased surprise.
"I should like that very much. I was just thinking how I longed for a
good, hard gallop across country. I imagine you are, too."

He nodded. "I am, indeed. That's the worst
of London, in my mind —and the reason I spend as little time as possible there.
I'm happiest when flying across the countryside on horseback. Well," he
amended, "there is
one
thing that makes me happier." He winked and she giggled.

"I must admit, that has surpassed riding
as my favorite, ah, sport, as well."

Anthony pulled her to him for a quick kiss, and
then they were pulling up before Wheatstone's front door. Tessa smiled,
thinking how pleased and surprised Papa would be to have her home again so
soon. When a startled Griffith opened the front door at Anthony's knock, she
hurried past him and up the stairs to her father's study.

"Papa! I'm— Oh!" She stopped on the
threshold, startled to see Lady Killerby sitting with her father. Papers were
spread over the low table between them, and they had apparently been busy with
them.

Sir George looked up and smiled. "Why,
Tessa! I did not look to see you for another week at the earliest." Then,
with a sudden frown, "Everything is all right, is it not?"

With a curious glance at Lady Killerby, she
continued into the room to kiss her father on the cheek, just as Anthony came
up behind her. "Yes, Papa, everything is perfectly fine. But I missed you,
and was anxious — That is— I take it everything has gone smoothly in my
absence?"

"Indeed it has," he assured her.
"Lily here has devoted many hours to helping me organize my notes. She
believes I may have enough material here to write an entire book on the subject
of foxhunting, and perhaps another on horse breeding."

Lady Killerby rose then to greet Tessa and
Anthony. "Really, Sir George has amassed an amazing amount of information
over the past few years. I've been trying to convince him to preserve it
through publication."

"What a good idea," Anthony said,
coming up to drape an arm about Tessa's shoulders. "Thank you for taking
such an interest, Lady Killerby."

To Tessa's amazement, the older lady actually
pinkened slightly. "It has been my pleasure. That is to say . . . It
seemed the least I could do. As a neighbor, you know." She was almost
babbling, looking to Sir George for support.

He beamed at her. "Lily has been a comfort
as well as a help, after all of the recent changes here. I don't know what I'd
have done without her."

Tessa blinked. Had her father and Lady Killerby
developed a
tendre
for each
other? At their age? It seemed unlikely, but there was no denying that they
found pleasure in each other's company.

"I should be going," Lady Killerby
said then, before Tessa could decide how she felt about this development.
"Anthony, I presume you'll wish me to tell your friends of your return?"

"Yes," he replied. "I have a few
things to discuss with them, so had thought to call at Ivy Lodge
tomorrow."

"Why not have them here for dinner
tonight?" Sir George suggested.

Tessa glanced at her father with surprise, but
reminded herself that there was no longer any cause for alarm at such a
proposal. That there never had been, in truth.

She therefore did not protest when Anthony
offered to escort Lady Killerby back to Ivy Lodge and extend the invitation. In
fact, she was grateful for the chance of a private word with her father —as she
suspected Anthony had known.

"You seem . . . happy, Papa," she
said as soon as they were alone. "I'm glad."

"Yes, I believe I am," he said with
something like surprise. "But what of you, Tessa? You look a trifle worried.
Come, sit here next to me tell me all about your time in London."

Moving to her accustomed chair, she proceeded
to regale him with an account of her visit to the metropolis, making light of
both her embarrassments and her heroism. His eyes shone, however, as she told
about stopping the runaway carriage and the resulting gratitude of the Duke and
his family.

"I doubt not they'll make a legend of
it," he said when she concluded. "I'm sorry you had to endure such
censure beforehand, though. Perhaps I was wrong to allow you to ride to hunt
after all."

"Pray do not say so, Papa," Tessa
exclaimed. "Truly, once the tide of opinion turned, many ladies were
saying they wished to do likewise. Soon it may become commonplace again, who
knows? But you need not worry about my reputation now, in any event."