by Brenda Hiatt
Sir George murmured something complimentary, but looked rather embarrassed as Anthony and Thor carried him into the phaeton and settled him. Lady Killerby must have perceived it, for she at once began chattering about the beautiful day they were likely to have, and to relate her plans for an impromptu tea party at Ivy Lodge after the day's run ended.
They were preparing to leave when Anthony could restrain himself no longer. "Is Miss Seaton not to accompany us?" he asked, as casually as he could.
Her father shook his head, a trace of sadness in his eyes. "No, she has already left, with her uncle. They will meet us at Belvoir Castle."
"I see." His hopes temporarily dashed, Anthony strove to put on a cheerful front. Until he had Tessa secure, it would be wisest not to advertise his feelings for her. "Let us go, then."
Designed as it was to follow the hunt, the phaeton was able to travel quickly along the road. Still, it was all Anthony could do to keep from dashing on ahead so that he could see Tessa sooner. At length, however, they came in sight of the rounded turrets and towers of the newly-built Belvoir Castle.
Perhaps half the field was already assembled on the front lawn, and Anthony gazed around eagerly for the flash of burgundy that would be Tessa's habit. Ah, there she was, at the foot of the rise leading to the imposing mock-medieval castle, atop the gelding Mercer Emery had bought last week. Excusing himself from the others, Anthony spurred Cinder forward at a quick trot.
Tessa looked up as he approached, but did not smile, rather to his surprise. Then, just before he reached her, Emery moved his brown gelding to block Anthony's path.
"I'm sorry, my lord," he said blandly, "but I fear it is no longer appropriate for you to speak privately with my niece. I must ask you to keep your distance from her today, and in the future."
Anthony blinked. Had their night alone been discovered? Why had Sir George not confronted him, then? Certainly, he was more than eager to do the right thing. Wouldn't Tessa have told him that?
"Might I ask why?" he finally asked, when no other explanation seemed forthcoming. Tessa's eyes were downcast, which also seemed odd.
"I am merely looking out for my son's interests, as he is not here to do so himself," Emery replied, increasing Anthony's confusion. "You see, Miss Seaton is very shortly to become his wife."
"What?" Anthony demanded, staring at Tessa, who still refused to meet his eyes. "How—? When did this . . . this betrothal take place?"
Mr. Emery positively smirked. "Last night. You are welcome to speak with Sir George if you doubt my word, my lord."
"I believe I'll do that," Anthony snapped, wheeling Cinder about to return to the phaeton.
Rush glanced at his face in surprise as he approached, which warned him to school his expression somewhat before confronting Sir George. Still, he could not keep all traces of outrage from his voice as he asked, without preamble, "Is it true, sir, that your daughter is engaged to marry Harold Emery?"
"What?" Lady Killerby exclaimed, much as Anthony had just done. "Surely not."
But Sir George nodded, the corners of his mouth drooping. "Yes, it is quite true," he said with surprising firmness. "Tessa and her cousin have always been fond of each other, so I saw no reason to withhold my consent."
"Fond—!" Anthony remembered the scene he had interrupted after dinner at Wheatstone last week. There had been strong emotion between Tessa and Harold Emery certainly, but he would swear it had not been fondness.
"I . . . I see," he finally managed to say. "Then I suppose I must offer my congratulations to both of them."
But Lady Killerby was still frowning. "Congratulations. Hmph. Really, George, you cannot have thought this through. Your daughter is quite lovely, not to mention talented and intelligent. She can aspire—"
"Nevertheless, it is done," Sir George interrupted her sharply. "I won't go back on my word."
It was clear he did not wish to discuss it further, so Anthony executed a curt bow from the saddle and retreated. Rush followed him.
"Now there's a stunner," Rush said as soon as they were out of earshot. "I could have sworn she only had eyes for you. How are you holding up, old man?"
Anthony shot him an angry glance. "Was my partiality so obvious, then? Not that it matters now, I suppose, except to add to my humiliation."
But Rush shook his head. "Nothing for you to be embarrassed about, old chap. But did you notice something odd in Sir George's manner just now? If he's happy about this match, then I'm a codfish."
"Yes, I thought the same," Anthony said, a glimmer of hope reviving in his breast. "Nor did Tessa look happy when I tried to speak with her. Her uncle warned me off before I could say a word to her, however."
"Or before she could say a word to you." Rush looked across the field to where Tessa still waited by Mercer Emery. "If you ask me, there's something deuced havey-cavey about this sudden betrothal."
"Do you know, I believe you may be right." Making a swift decision, Anthony quickly told his friend about the innocent but damning night he'd spent with Tessa, his certainty that she cared for him, and finally that he had made an offer to her only yesterday.
"I can't help but think that somehow precipitated this sudden betrothal," he finished, "for I'm convinced the Emerys have their claws deep in Wheatstone's affairs —and income —and aren't eager to give that up. Will you help me get to the bottom of it, Rush?"
The earl grinned. "What are friends for? You try and see if you can manage a few words alone with Miss Seaton, and I'll do a bit of digging about our two Mr. Emerys and what sort of hold they might have over Sir George."
"As always, I'm at your command," Anthony said with a mock salute. In truth, though, it was reassuring to have Rush take charge as he had during the war. And he was more than willing to carry out his assignment.
One way or another, he'd get Tessa to admit the truth about this preposterous betrothal —and about her feelings for him.
* * *
Tessa watched Anthony turn and ride away, her heart dying within her. She should have said something —something! —to him, despite her uncle's command that she stay silent. He had looked so stunned. Much as she'd felt last night when her father had accepted Harold's lie.
What, though, could she have said? She could scarcely have denied the betrothal, since her father had insisted upon it.
And that was something she still did not understand. This morning she had told Sir George that she had not so much as seen Harold Friday night, that she'd spent the night with an injured horse, alone, but he had merely shaken his head.
"It doesn't matter now, Tessa," he'd said. "I've given Mercer and Harold my word."
"And that matters more than my future? My happiness?" she had demanded.
Her father had looked at her sadly. "It is your future I am thinking of, my dear. Trust me in this."
"But Harold lied to you to coerce this promise," she had protested. Still, incredibly, her father would not relent. It almost seemed as though he was afraid of what Uncle Mercer or Harold might do if he changed his mind. She simply didn't understand it.
Helplessly, she watched as Anthony approached her father, saw Lady Killerby's surprise, then her father's confirmation of the terrible truth. The sag of Anthony's shoulders as he turned away nearly undid her. What was the worst that could happen if she told the truth —the whole truth? Perhaps there was still a chance that she could be happy, be Anthony's wife, as he'd proposed.
Uncle Mercer, also watching the exchange, chuckled, infuriating her.
"I always knew you put your own interests ahead of mine or Papa's," she exclaimed, "but I never thought you would take actual pleasure in the unhappiness of another."
He snorted. "That young popinjay thought he'd have everything he wanted —you, Wheatstone, your father's stables. All he had to do was snap his fingers. A lesson in humility will do him good."
"Is it to do me good as well?" she asked. "You know I don't want to marry Harold, nor do I imagine that he really wants to
marry me. Why are you so bent on this course, Uncle?"
But she knew the answer already, for he had just revealed it: Wheatstone. The stables. They were to come to her, and therefore to whomever she married.
Why had she not realized it before, been more on her guard against Harold, against both of them? Because they were family, she had told herself they must have her best interests at heart, but it was not so—it had never been so.
"Don't think to persuade your father to change his mind," her uncle said now. "He won't want word of your indiscretion to get about, any more than you do. Nor will your young gallant come to the rescue once the world knows the truth about you."
Tessa stared at him. "What do you mean? You know I wasn't with Harold that night."
"Maybe not, but I'll lay odds you weren't alone, either. You're ruined, missy, and if the man responsible —the man you rode out with —was going to step forward and make it right, he'd have done so already. You should be grateful to my son for his willingness to take you, secondhand goods that you are now."
"Grateful—!" She turned her back on her uncle, afraid she just might assault him physically if he continued to smirk at her.
To her relief, the Master of the Hunt, the Duke of Rutland, sounded his horn just then and the field began moving toward the covert. Should she attempt a word with Anthony during the day's run? Her uncle would be left behind once the hunt began in earnest, so it should be easy enough to manage —though she still had no idea what to say.
She had refused his offer already and could scarcely ask him to offer again, now that she was betrothed to her cousin —or ask him to admit openly that he was the one who had spent Friday night with her. Her father had seemed to believe her when she said she'd been alone, and that news would devastate him afresh.
Her uncle's spiteful words came back to haunt her. Did Anthony's hesitation mean that he had doubts? If only he had spoken to her father before Harold had made his "admission" —but no. How could he have done so, when she had refused him? Still, if he learned of the circumstances behind this hasty betrothal, might he step forward with the truth?
Even if he did, his family —nay, all of Society —would despise and reject her if word got out that Anthony married her only because he had to. And her cousin and uncle would make certain word got out, she had no doubt of that. No, she could not tell Anthony the truth and so risk both his happiness and her father's health.
On the way to the covert, Tessa kept her distance from everyone else on the field, Anthony included. When they all stopped to wait for the hounds to draw the fox, her uncle moved to her side again.
"We're not looking to sell this horse just yet, so there's no need for you to ride him all-out today. Stay near the back while I look over the rest of the field with an eye to our next purchase."
She glanced over to where Anthony and his friends were changing from their hacks to their hunters. For an instant she caught his eye, but then he turned away, his expression unreadable.
"Very well," she agreed with a sigh.
* * *
Though the run so far had been excellent, this was proving to be a most unsatisfying meet for Anthony. Instead of riding near the front of the field, as she'd done in the past, Tessa was hanging back with the stragglers, staying close to her uncle. She must have been told to do so, for Anthony knew she loved speed, and the thrill of the hunt, as much as he did.
For himself, he felt torn between warring instincts —to be first in the field, and to be with Tessa. Poor Faro couldn't understand why Anthony kept reining him in, and Anthony was nearly as frustrated as his hunter. No matter how slowly he went, Tessa couldn't —or wouldn't —catch him up. He actually considered a deliberate fall, and pretending an injury, but feared that he might inadvertently hurt Faro if he tried it.
It must have been past noon when they came to the first serious check, when the hounds lost the fox at the border of a stream. While the hunstman urged them across the water to cast for the scent on the other side, the strung-out field finally had time to coalesce into a single group again.
At once, Anthony seized his opportunity. Tessa was still shadowed by her uncle, but she was also close to Lady Killerby's phaeton, which he should be able to use to his advantage. He rode over to the group, smiling broadly.
"What say you, my lady, Sir George? Quite a run so far, eh? The best we've seen this season, I believe."
Sir George nodded, his earlier melancholy apparently forgotten in the excitement of the hunt. "Aye, I'm enjoying it immensely. Don't know why I never thought to do this before."
"You needed a push —and I'm quite pushy, I've been told," Lady Killerby said with a wink. "But Anthony, what ails you? On Monday, you were right at the forefront, as was Miss Seaton. I must say that neither of you are acquitting yourselves nearly so well today." She glanced from him to Tessa, who gave a small shrug.
"Indeed, Tessa, there's no need for you to hang back with Mercer," Sir George said. "I know this is the first time you've ridden to hunt on that horse, but I'm sure you can do better than this. Make me proud, won't you?"
Tessa blinked, clearly startled. With a quick glance at her uncle, she nodded. "Very well, Papa, if you wish. When the hounds find the scent again, we shall see what this gelding can do."
"And what of you, Anthony?" Lady Killerby prompted. "Is your horse lame, or are you grown fainthearted?"
"Neither, my lady," he replied with a grin. "I, too, promise to show Sir George what I'm capable of."
"Excellent," Lady Killerby exclaimed. "Then we'll all enjoy the hunt as we ought. But now, if you'll excuse us, we must seek for a place where we can ford this stream, or we'll see nothing at all when the hunt continues."
Bowing from the saddle to them both, Anthony shot a glance under his brows at Emery to see the man looking both angry and frustrated. Tessa, however, sent him a grateful look when her uncle wasn't watching her.
Satisfied, Anthony did not attempt to speak to Tessa yet, confident that he'd have a chance to do so once they were again on the move. Still, he could not resist giving her a small, reassuring smile in response to her look, and was rewarded by seeing her blink and smile tentatively in return.
Emery, who had been watching the retreating phaeton with a scowl, turned back to his niece. "Don't think this means—" he began, but just then the hounds gave tongue and the huntsman's horn sounded the resumption of the hunt.
"Let's go," Anthony cried to both of them, knowing that only Tessa was capable of complying. "We've given our word, after all."
He spurred Faro toward the confusion of the reanimated field and was conscious of Tessa just behind him. The leaders began splashing across the stream, some with more difficulty than others, for the water was better than hock-high.
Glancing back, he saw to his surprise that Mercer Emery was cantering alongside Tessa, though clearly with some difficulty. Really, the man was an execrable horseman. The three of them reached the stream along with the middle of the field. The water, up to the bellies of the shorter hunters, was flowing fast.
Anthony slowed Faro to a walk so that he could better find footing, raising his feet to keep his boots dry. Tessa, now beside him, did likewise. Emery, however, rode into the water at a canter, apparently determined not to let the two of them get away. Predictably, his horse slipped, then lunged to the side to regain its feet.
With a yell, Emery landed in the stream, face-first. Sputtering, he scrambled to his feet, glaring about as though his tumble had been someone else's fault instead of his own.
"Uncle! Are you hurt?" called Tessa, though Anthony thought he could hear a hint of laughter in her voice.
It was all he could do not to laugh himself, for Emery looked quite comical, wringing water from his tricorne hat. Others around them were not so restrained, and guffaws broke out on all sides. Emery was not particularly well liked.
The sodden man's face turned dark red but he shook his head. "I'm fine," he growled. "Get on with you—all of you!"
Anthony needed no further urging. "Come on," he said to Tessa. "Your father and Lady Killerby are already across." He pointed upstream to where the phaeton had just reached the other side. "We did promise."
With one last glance at her glowering uncle, she gave a quick nod and nudged her mount the rest of the way across. They both spurred their horses to a trot, then a canter and finally a gallop. There were still too many people about to attempt a shouted conversation, but Anthony felt a welcome sense of rightness pervade his being.
Though there was no chance now of Emery catching them up, Anthony and Tessa both increased their speed, passing more and more of the field until they had taken their accustomed place in the lead. "That's more like it," he finally shouted across to her.
Smiling, she nodded but did not reply.
Soon they had to slow to a canter, so as not to override the hounds. That made conversation easier, but also allowed the rest of the field to draw closer. "That gelding seems to be shaping up nicely," Anthony commented.
"Yes, I think he'll make a fine hunter with some work," she replied, keeping her eyes resolutely forward.
So, she didn't wish for real conversation? Too bad.
Subtly, by repeatedly angling Faro barely within a comfortable distance for her mount, he guided her off to the right, out of the direct path of the rest of the field. When the hounds checked again a few minutes later, they were both well out of earshot of the others.
The moment they halted, he got right to the point. "All right, Tessa, suppose you tell me what's really going on?"
She tried to evade him, both physically and verbally, sidling her horse back toward the field as she said, "I don't know what you mean."
He was having none of it, however. "You know exactly what I mean. What is this nonsense about a betrothal to Harold Emery?"
She stopped sidling, but still did not meet his eye. "It's not nonsense," she said in a voice he had to strain to hear. "As my uncle told you and my father doubtless confirmed, I am to marry my cousin . . . as soon as is reasonably possible."