by Brenda Hiatt
"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."
Tessa hoped the dimness of the coach hid the effort it cost her to smile. "I am gratified, my lord, that you should say so."
He reached across to place his hand on hers, heedless of Sir George at her side. "I have reason to thank you as well, Miss Seaton."
She glanced up in surprise. He must mean her silence about the night they'd spent together.
"Aye, you added greatly to the enjoyment of the evening," Mr. Turpin said. "As did you, Sir George. I hope you will both visit again— particularly while Lady Killerby is in residence."
They all chuckled at that, and Tessa forced herself to do so as well, trying desperately to ignore the fresh pain Lord Anthony's gratitude gave her.
A few moments later they reached Wheatstone, and the gentlemen soon had Sir George safely returned to his study.
"There, see what a bit of practice has done for our efficiency?" Lord Anthony exclaimed. "Anytime you wish to go out, Sir George, don't hesitate to call upon us. We'll be happy to oblige, eh, Thor?"
Mr. Turpin agreed, then they took their leave. As before, Tessa walked down to the front door with them, though the presence of Mr. Turpin precluded any sort of private conversation with Anthony. She realized that was probably just as well.
"We look forward to seeing you at tomorrow's meet, Miss Seaton," he said, smiling down into her eyes, his expression reflecting none of the turmoil she'd been feeling all evening.
"I hope Cinnamon and I will acquit ourselves well," she replied, her voice sounding stiff to her own ears. If only she could ask him . . . But ask him what? Whether he'd meant what he said about being a confirmed bachelor? Foolishness!
He sent her a searching look, but she turned away before he might possibly decipher her expression. "Thank you, my lord, and you, Mr. Turpin, for your help in getting my father to and from Ivy Lodge. It meant more to him than you can imagine —and to me, as well."
Again they expressed their willingness to be of service at any time in the future, and then they took their leave. Tessa returned to her father, putting on a determinedly cheerful expression as she entered his study.
"What a pleasant evening that was," she said. "I had no idea that you'd known Lord Killerby's mother in your youth, Papa."
Sir George's grin was almost boyish. "I confess, I hadn't made the connection before seeing her tonight. Stewart, her late husband, was still plain Mr. Verge when he married her all those years ago."
Griffith entered then, so Tessa retreated, glad to hear the happiness in her father's voice as he regaled his manservant with stories of his first outing in six years. Despite her earlier misgivings, the visit had clearly been good for him. She would do nothing to oppose future excursions —though Uncle Mercer migh
t.
That thought reminded her that she had yet to talk with her father about replacing Harold as horse trainer. It was as well she had that problem to distract her, for she had a difficult time sleeping, her emotions were in such a jumble. When she finally did fall asleep, it was to dream of Anthony —first tender, as he'd been that night in the cottage, then pushing her away with a laugh. It was a relief when Sally woke her at daybreak.
* * *
"Papa, I've been meaning to talk with you about Harold," she said without preamble as soon as she joined her father in his study before leaving for the Quorn. He had risen early as well, to see her off. "I'm not entirely certain that horse-training is the best career for him."
Sir George blinked, clearly startled. "But Mercer says he is doing quite well. Look at the fabulous sum he got for that new horse, Nimbus, last week. Surely Harold's training had something to do with that?"
Tessa bit her lip, uncertain how much of the truth to disclose. Memory of Harold's cruelty to that new chestnut yesterday spurred her on, however. "Actually, Papa, I believe I had more influence on Nimbus than Harold did. In fact, he frequently needs my help with the more . . . difficult horses."
"Indeed?" Sir George frowned. "I knew you were riding more than you used, to train for the hunt, but you know I don't care to have you spending too much time at the stables, Tessa. It's not proper. You heard what Lady Killerby said last night."
She didn't care to be reminded of that. "I know, Papa, but truly, I don't mind. I like spending time with the horses, as I've always told you, and I'm careful that no one outside our family and servants ever sees me there. To be honest, I rather doubt Harold would be able to do his job there without my help."
"Are you suggesting I hire another trainer? Mercer would never allow me to turn him off."
"No, not turn him off, of course, but I thought that perhaps we could find some other job on the estate that he could do, something better suited to his, ah, temperament. Meanwhile, I would be more than happy to take over the bulk of his training duties, with the help of the stable hands."
But Sir George shook his head. "That won't do at all, Tessa. Why, you are just beginning to go out socially, dining at the Hilltops' and at Ivy Lodge. There will be hunt balls later, as well. You won't have time to train all of our horses as well."
"But Harold—"
"Harold what?" Harold and his father walked into the study, Harold's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Sir George turned to them with a smile. "Tessa feels that horse training may not be the best utilization of Harold's talents," he said, surprising her with his diplomacy. "We were simply discussing other options."
Harold turned an angry glance on Tessa. "Criticizing my training again, were you? I told you—" He broke off when his father laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"Miss Seaton has a tender heart," Uncle Mercer said. "It is small wonder her feminine sensitivity recoils from some of the methods necessary to get the most out of the horses. Perhaps it would be better if she not watch Harold at his work quite so often, much as she seems to enjoy spending time with him—and the horses, of course."
Tessa gaped at his implication, even as her father nodded his agreement. She, enjoy spending time with Harold? Not bloody likely.
"I quite concur, Mercer," Sir George was saying. "She was suggesting the opposite, that she spend more time at the stables.
"I can't say I'm surprised," Uncle Mercer said, "but under the circumstances—"
Her father blinked, then frowned slightly, shooting a glance Tessa's way. "Yes, yes, it is quite out of the question— particularly given what you have just said."
Tessa noticed with irritation that Harold was smirking. "Very well," she said, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. "I'll not work with the horses at all, then." So much for taming Vulcan for them.
Though Harold's smirk disappeared at this threat, her uncle actually smiled. "That might be best. Except for those horses you will be riding for sale, of course. I myself can oversee your time spent familiarizing yourself with them. After all, a reputation is a fragile thing —don't you agree, Sir George?"
"I'm certain I can leave such matters entirely in your hands, Mercer," her father said quickly. "There, Tessa, all is well."
She couldn't bring herself to speak. It was clear that if he chose, Uncle Mercer could convince her father to forbid her riding at all— something she didn't wish to provoke him to.
Tessa found herself unable to eat much breakfast, so upset was she by the conversation just past. Harold kept smirking at her, making her want to slap him. Meanwhile, Uncle Mercer discussed estate business with her father, though most of what he said Tessa knew to be false.
More and more, she found herself regretting her original decision six years ago to keep the truth about the estate from her father. If he discovered it now, as much as things had deteriorated over the years, the shock might well kill him— which left her trapped in her own web of lies.
Surely, there must be some way to extricate herself without shattering her father's pride or destroying his health?
"Come, Tessa, we must go if we are to be in at the start of today's meet," her uncle said, breaking into her thoughts.
"Give Lady Killerby my regards," said Sir George as she rose. "I'll look forward to hearing everything upon your return."
Tessa nodded mechanically and followed Uncle Mercer from the room. Harold followed them downstairs and out the front door.
"What game are you playing at, Cousin?" he demanded as soon as they were out of the house. "I told you Sir George would never turn me off, didn't I?"
She glared at him. "I only asked him to consider a position better suited to you than that of trainer. Anyone else— anyone who could see you at work, that is— would have turned you off long ago."
His face darkened and he took a step toward her, but as before, Uncle Mercer intervened. "There was no harm done, Harold," he said to his son. Then, to Tessa, "I'd advise you not to try anything of the sort again, missie. Unless you want your father to learn the true state of his finances —not to mention the truth about your own behavior?"
She was sorely tempted to tell him to do his worst, but the thought of her father's weak heart stopped her. "I felt obliged to do something, for the sake of the horses," she said, forcing an apology she didn't feel into her tone. "I never intended to harm Harold in any way."
"If you don't want the horses out of your reach for good, you'd be wise to leave such concerns to me," her uncle told her. "Now, we'd best be on our way."
Harold made a point of boosting her into Cinnamon's sidesaddle. Though his touch made Tessa cringe, she was careful not to show it, for Harold could be trusted to make the most of any weakness she revealed. Touching her heels to Cinnamon's flanks, she left him behind, wishing it could be forever. After tonight, Cinnamon, at least, would never have to face Harold again. Tessa took what comfort she could from that thought.
Upon reaching the meet at Quorndon Hall, however, she saw Lord Anthony in conversation with Lady Killerby and at once all traces of comfort fled.
* * *
CHAPTER 12
"If you'll excuse me, my lady?" Anthony couldn't help being amused at Lady Killerby's wicked assessments of each sportsman as he arrived at the meet, but the moment he saw Tessa he felt an intense need to be at her side.
Lady Killerby followed his gaze. "Ah, that's where the wind sets, does it? I suspected as much last night. Run along then, lad—but be cautious. Your father would scarcely approve, you know." She waved him away from the side of her pink and green phaeton with her orange parasol.
Anthony merely tipped his hat to her, determined not to give her any more ammunition for gossip or advice. In vain did he remind himself that she was right. His father wouldn't approve. But the more time he spent with Tessa —and the more time he spent away from her—the more he felt that he would never be happy without her.
"I began to fear you wouldn't make it today,
Miss Seaton," he said, riding up to her and executing a bow from the saddle, sweeping his tophat before him with a flourish.
"We were a bit late starting," she replied with a glance at her uncle, on the same brown gelding he'd ridden before.
Mercer Emery nodded. "No chance we'd miss today —not after missing the Cottesmore meet on Saturday. Feel free to tell your friends that this mare will be up for sale tonight."
Mention of the Cottesmore brought the reason for Tessa's missing it vividly to Anthony's mind —and his body. That Tessa avoided his eye made him hope that her memory was similarly —and as pleasantly —engaged. She did not look precisely happy, however. He made a guess at the reason.
"I know you're not as eager to sell, Miss Seaton, but I trust you won't let that hamper your riding today." He leaned down as he spoke, trying to get a better glimpse of her face.
"She won't," her uncle said curtly. "Business is business. She knows that as well as I."
Tessa nodded, though Anthony thought he detected a small sigh before she spoke. "Yes, I know it well. We'll have a fine last run, won't we, Cinnamon?" She stroked the mare's neck with a small, gloved hand. The motion did something profound to Anthony's nether regions and he found himself quite envying the horse.
The signal was given to start for the covert, so with a nod—and another unsuccessful attempt to catch Tessa's eye— Anthony turned Cinder and headed over to where the Odd Sock was assembled.
"Something wrong?" Rush asked as he reached them.
"What? No, not at all." He quickly schooled his expression to one of anticipation for the hunt. "Mr. Emery bade me spread the word that Miss Seaton's mare will be sold tonight. I'm half minded to buy her myself."
"The mare, you mean?" Stormy teased him.
Anthony, however, was not amused. "Don't let Lady Killerby hear you implying such things," he admonished his friend. "Nor anyone else, for that matter."