by Brenda Hiatt
"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."
Sir George smiled, though his eyes were stil
l shadowed. "I hope— That is, you are right, of course."
For a moment, Tessa bit her lip, debating, but then decided that she was done keeping secrets from her father. "Papa," she said gently, "I know what is worrying you. Anthony told me the truth about my birth."
"What? But he promised me—"
"It wasn't his fault," she said quickly. "Harold said something to me on my wedding day, and then I insisted Anthony tell me the whole."
Her father covered his eyes with his hand. "I'm so sorry you had to learn of it, Tessa. What must you think of me, after all of my strictures about propriety?"
She laid a hand on his arm. "I think you were young, very much in love —and very human, Papa. And it all came right in the end. I'm only sorry that Uncle Mercer was able to use it against you, against us, all these years."
He clasped her hand in both of his own. "You're the best daughter anyone could have, Tessa. I've never been able to truly regret what happened, because it resulted in you."
"Oh, Papa." She pressed her cheek against his with a happy sigh, then heard a stir downstairs. "It sounds as though Anthony has brought his friends back with him. I'll go speak with Cook."
* * *
Dinner was a festive, informal affair. Anthony took great delight in embarrassing Tessa by telling his friends of her heroism in London. They seemed suitably impressed, and Sir George commented that he was glad to hear the details that Tessa had modestly omitted from her own account.
"The Duke of Wellington himself," he said more than once, with a fond look at his daughter.
After the sweetmeats had been served, Tessa rose. "If you don't mind, I'd like to visit the stables while you gentlemen continue your discussion."
Anthony grinned across at her. "Before we elevate you to sainthood? Very well, my dear, go on. We'll no doubt be in the parlor when you return."
With a self-conscious smile at the others, she went to get her cloak. Anthony turned back to his friends as soon as she was gone. "You said you had some news for me and Sir George?"
"Indeed we do," said Rush. "It concerns our friend, Mercer Emery. I thought you both might like to hear how we solved that little problem."
Anthony glanced at Sir George, who looked as surprised as he himself felt. "We are all ears."
"Well, after the conversation the, ah, day of your betrothal, and then after watching his behavior on your wedding day, I realized he still posed a potential threat."
"That he might spread word about Tessa's birth, you mean?" Sir George said, frowning.
Rush nodded. "He was still hanging about Melton. Not hunting, precisely —he's an abysmal horseman, after all—but gaming and trying to insinuate himself into the better circles in the evenings. That was my inspiration."
Thor and Stormy chuckled, and Anthony looked from one to the other curiously, then back to Rush. "Inspiration for what?"
"Choosing my moment and my witnesses carefully, a few nights ago at one of the aprés-hunt gatherings, I, ah, made a disparaging remark about his late sister."
"What?" exclaimed Sir George.
"You did?" Anthony echoed disbelievingly. "But—"
"Mr. Mercer has become quite jealous of his reputation as a would-be gentleman," Rush continued. "Given the company and the preceding conversation, he had no choice but to challenge me over my rather . . . rude remark."
Anthony began to understand, though Sir George was still frowning. "After defending his sister's honor, he could scarcely besmirch it himself," Anthony explained to his father-in-law.
Sir George's brow cleared. "How clever of you, my lord. But what of the challenge? You did not kill him?"
Stormy snorted derisively as Rush shook his head. "I intended to miss, after scaring him badly —to shoot into the air, in fact, by way of admitting my error —but I overestimated his courage."
"The bounder never showed," Stormy put in. "Hasn't been seen since, in fact. As far as we know, he's left the area for good."
"And what of his son?" Anthony asked. "Is he gone as well?" He looked forward to telling Tessa she need never worry about her uncle or cousin again.
But Sir George was shaking his head. "I suspect not. Only yesterday, one the servants said something about seeing Harold near the stables."
"Did you not find out what he wanted?" Anthony asked in surprise.
"I assumed he had merely stopped by to retrieve something he had forgotten."
"Let's hope that was it," Rush said, "though I'm afraid I wouldn't put it past the young rascal to make off with one of the horses, out of simple spite."
But it wasn't the horses Anthony was thinking about. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen?" he said, heading for the door.
* * *
"I missed you, too, Cinnamon," Tessa murmured as she stroked the roan mare's soft nose. "But now I'm back to stay, and tomorrow we'll ride together again —in the hunt. I believe Papa will let me spend more time with you and the other horses from now on, as well. Won't that be nice?"
The horse whickered enthusiastically, just as though she understood Tessa's words.
"A nice little plan," came a voice from behind her. "Shame it won't work out quite that way."
Whirling in alarm, she saw her cousin leaning against the doorway of the stables. No one else was in sight.
"Harold? What are you doing here?" she demanded. "Where—?"
Grinning unpleasantly in the dim light of a single hanging lantern, he heaved himself away from the door frame and sauntered toward her. "All the stable hands are abed by now— and like to sleep soundly, after the bottles I gave them."
Tessa kept one hand on Cinnamon's neck. "Why would you do that?" He couldn't have known she'd be home tonight.
"I'd thought to take that mare off your little lordship's hands before you returned. Figured he'd have a time explaining that to you, not to mention that I could sell her for a fair price up North. But now I can take something he'll miss a sight more."
"You're mad," she exclaimed. "You can't seriously think you could kidnap me? You'll never even get me out of the stables."
His grin twisted into something far uglier. "Probably not. But then, I won't have to—and I'll still have the mare." He pulled a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at her.
"Father bought this for his meeting with Rushford, but then he got cold feet after hearing tales of the fellow's military exploits. He left for the North two days ago— but lucky for me, he didn't take this."
"Harold, think what you're doing," Tessa said as persuasively as she could, using the voice she used on difficult horses, her eyes riveted on the pistol. "If you leave now, you'll have done nothing illegal. You can begin a new life in the North, or wherever you wish to go."
"Don't try your sorcery on me," he growled. "Why should you and your lordling have it all your own way while I have to start over with nothing? Wheatstone was to be mine— Father promised me. He convinced me to put up with all your jibes and airs, your oh-so-superior ways. You don't know how many times I wanted to put you in your place, Tessa."
She swallowed, her fear growing. Harold had always been a bully, but she'd never known he resented her so badly. Now, it seemed, he was completely mad. "Please, Harold," she whispered.
"No. If I can't have Wheatstone, then neither will you—or your arrogant lordling." He raised the pistol higher.
"Perhaps the arrogant lordling will have something to say about that," came Anthony's voice from behind him.
With a curse, Harold swung around, but before he could aim the pistol at this new threat, Tessa flung open Cinnamon's stall. Together, she and the mare charged. Harold looked back, his eyes widening just before Cinnamon struck him with both front hooves. The pistol fired and Tessa screamed.
Terrified by the noise, all of the horses screamed as well, some of them kicking at their stalls. Cinnamon reared and backed away. Harold, shaken but still clutching the pistol, struggled to his knees, but before he could rise, Anthony knocked him back to the ground with a well-placed fist to
his jaw.
"Are you all right?" he shouted to Tessa.
Numbly, she nodded. The pistol ball was embedded in the door of Cinnamon's stall, having passed only inches from her head. Gathering her courage and her breath, she called aloud to the panicked horses.
"Calm down, calm down, all of you. It's over. It's over. It's over." As she chanted, the kicking and whinnying stopped, and in a few moments the stables were quiet once again.
Tessa looked down at her cousin, groaning groggily from his position spread-eagle on the stable floor. "He—he was going to kill me," she said, her voice breaking. "He would have, if you had not come, Anthony."
With two quick steps, Anthony reached her and gathered her into his arms. "But I did, thank God! It's over, Tessa. You're safe. Now, suppose you go to the house and get the others while I keep watch over this vermin." He released her with obvious reluctance. "Then we'll send someone for the magistrate and see what's to be done with him."
Harold only groaned again.
* * *
Anthony watched Tessa flying over the fields on Cinnamon's back with a profound sense of gratitude. How close he had come last night to never seeing this sight again, never holding her in his arms again! Not until he'd come so close to losing her had he realized just how deeply he loved her—her spirit, her selflessness, the way she shared his passion for riding like this . . . everything about her.
They had not gone to bed until well after midnight, for it had taken some time to get through the business with the magistrate. Now, though, all was settled. Harold Emery had agreed to leave the country and word had been sent to his father, to give him the option of joining his son. The Emerys would never bother Tessa again.
"Reynard is giving us a good run, eh?" he shouted across to Tessa as they cleared a hedge together at the front of the field.
"A wonderful run," she called back, her cheeks and eyes bright from the chilly breeze and her joyful exercise. "I hope he escapes as his reward."