Tessa's Touch

by Brenda Hiatt

  "That won't be necessary. My groom believes that in time the horse can be made useful and as I said, I got him at a good price. But I thank you, Sir George," Lord Anthony said with a bow. "Now, we will impose upon you no longer. I'll be in touch about a hunter for myself."

  Tessa relaxed. He was leaving, and had neither demanded money nor said anything about last night. But then he turned to her.

  "It was an honor to meet you, Miss Seaton. Perhaps our paths may cross again sometime. You seem quite . . . knowledgeable about horses."

  She dipped a curtsey, as much to hide her face as for propriety's sake. "Thank you, my lord. The honor was mine."

  The moment the four gentlemen had gone, Uncle Mercer said, "Sir George, may Miss Seaton accompany Harold and myself to the stables? There is something we would like to show her."

  Her father frowned, then nodded. "I suppose so, as long as she doesn't stay long. But wait until those young men are out of sight. It won't do to have any of them see her down there. It might not be perceived as quite proper, you know."

  Then, turning to Tessa, "Well, this was quite a morning, my dear. So many eligible young men under our roof, even if they did not precisely come to call upon you."

  "I don't believe any of them knew of my existence before today, Papa," she replied, smiling in spite of herself.

  "Ah, but they do now. You never would allow me to send you to London for your Season, but now, perhaps, you'll get your chance after all. I've never felt it right that a lovely girl like you should spend her life shut away in the country with her invalid father, you know."

  Tessa dropped a kiss on his forehead. "I know, Papa, but I've felt it no sacrifice, I promise you. The whirl of Society has never appealed to me in the least." That was quite true, aside from the fact that they had no money to pay for such a thing. "I'm happy here with you, and with the horses."

  He patted her hand. "You're a good girl, Tessa."

  "I hope those gentlemen did not tire you too much, Papa."

  "No, no, I quite enjoyed it," he said. "We should have callers more often."

  Tessa smiled, but did not agree. "Now, I'm sure you'd like to return to your memoirs," she suggested.

  "Oh. Of course. Of course." Turning to the nearest stack of papers, he began to rummage through them, his eyes already reverting to their usual vagueness.

  * * *

  "Sir George seems an upright enough fellow, for all he can't stand upright," Sir Charles said as they rode away from the Seaton estate.

  "You should be smacked for that remark, Stormy," Thor declared with shake of his head. "Still, I have to agree. Seaton himself seems an honest sort. That trainer of his, however . . ."

  Anthony nodded. "I thought the same. Young Mr. Emery seemed overly defensive. So, what did you three discover at the stables?"

  "Not a great deal," Rush admitted, "for the moment the fellow spotted us, he insisted we accompany him up to the house. When we reached the paddock, he was exercising a big bay—a pretty beast, I must say— while a few lads looked on. I'd wager that horse will fetch a pretty penny once it's properly broken."

  "Yes, they do have some exceptional animals there, from what I could see," Thor agreed. "Of course, the Seaton stables used to be famous, so it's likely they still have some of the original bloodlines."

  Anthony recalled that his Great-uncle Alden had mentioned the Seaton stock once, before Anthony had gone into the Army. He'd completely forgotten it until now. "I wonder why we've heard so little about them in recent years?"

  Thor shrugged. "I think the old trainer died a few years back. My guess is this new fellow isn't up to the same standard. Takes more than breeding to make a great hunter, after all."

  They all murmured agreement.

  "Well, it appears our little mystery is solved, then," Rush said. "I doubt, after today, that the Emerys will attempt to impose on any other greenlings —if, indeed, that's what they did. What say you all to dinner at the Swan tonight?"

  * * *

  "What did you tell that lordling that brought him running with his high-and-mighty friends and their accusations?" Mercer Emery demanded the moment they were out of the house.

  Tessa stared at her uncle. "I didn't tell him a thing. Why should you assume I did?"

  "Harold said you mentioned seeing him with Zephyr."

  She hadn't exactly told her cousin that, but as it was true, she didn't deny it. "I merely helped him last night when Zephyr bolted. I didn't so much as give him my name, as I was in breeches at the time. Thank goodness he didn't see fit to mention that to Papa just now."

  Harold snorted. "You must have said something, else why would he have come here the very next day?"

  "He obviously asked Mr. Ballard where he bought the horse," she replied calmly. "I told you it was a bad idea to sell horses before they're properly trained."

  "You know nothing of it. The gentlemen at those clubs auction off their mounts to the highest bidder after every hunt, and no one worries whether that day's ride was typical of the horse or not. Right, Father?"

  Uncle Mercer nodded. "Your own father will say the same."

  Tessa frowned. "That seems remarkably foolish. Most are educated gentlemen, are they not? Hunting is scarcely a poor man's sport."

  Uncle Mercer gave a bark of laughter. "A rich man can be as foolish as a poor one when he's drunk enough. These young bloods have the money to spare, don't you worry. Look how your Lord Anthony bought Zephyr off Mr. Ballard simply as a favor to a friend."

  Now she thought of it, Tessa realized that was rather noble of Lord Anthony —or at least kind —but she knew better than to say so. Her uncle and cousin had always regarded anything that went against one's own self-interest as foolish. She'd argued that viewpoint with them in the past, to no avail.

  "Speaking of those fine gentlemen," her uncle continued now, "I believe they will be our answer to convincing your father to let you ride Nimbus on Monday. It's clear from what he said just now that he'd like to bring you to their notice, and what better way than at the hunt?"

  "But I thought—" Harold began, but his father silenced him with a quick shake of his head.

  Though her heart skittered with excitement at the thought, Tessa said, "Really, Uncle, it just isn't done these days. Proper ladies never ride to the hunt."

  "Ah, but Sir George lives in the past, and in the days of his youth it was not so uncommon. It's how he came to notice your mother, you know."

  Tessa nodded, for she'd heard her father tell the story many times. "I can't imagine he'll let me do the same— though I do think it would be splendid if we could somehow revive the custom of women riding to the hunt."

  They reached the stables then, and Harold signaled one of the stablehands to bring Nimbus out. The man looked nervous, and with reason, for when he reappeared a few minutes later, it was clear the horse was in even worse temper than usual.

  "Having them strangers and their horses down here a bit ago has set him in a rare fury, sir," he told them as he and another man led Nimbus into the paddock.

  His words were superfluous, for the horse was bucking against the lead, his ears laid flat against his skull and his lips pulled back to reveal enormous teeth. As they watched, Nimbus swung his head down and around to snap at the man on the right, who danced out of the way only just in time. The horse gave a half-scream of frustration and tried to rear, but was prevented by the curb bit in his mouth and the martingale, which kept his head down.

  With a sigh, Tessa stepped forward. "Here, give me the lead," she told the first man.

  "Are you sure, miss? Even you may have trouble with him today. I've never seen him in such a temper."

  "I'll be careful," she said, reaching out her hand for the lead. The man relinquished it and quickly stepped out of reach of Nimbus's hooves. Harold and Uncle Mercer, she noted cynically, stayed well back, on the other side of the gate. Just as well, since the two men tended to bring out the worst in the horses. Amazing that they shared her mother's b
lood.

  "Now then, Nimbus, what seems to be the trouble today?" Tessa asked in the soothing lilt she reserved for problem horses.

  As Zephyr had done the night before, Nimbus calmed noticeably. His sides still heaved and his eyes rolled, but he no longer bared his teeth or tried to kick. Tessa moved forward to place her palm against his neck. At the contact he gave a long shudder, then a sigh. Gradually, his breathing slowed and his eyes returned to normal, the whites no longer showing.

  Though she'd been able to do this for nearly as long as she could remember, Tessa never took her gift for granted, realizing anew each time that this was a sort of miracle she'd been equipped to perform. She was glad of it now, for clearly Nimbus was much happier than he'd been two minutes earlier.

  "Would you like to use some of that pent-up energy in a ride?" she asked the horse then. "Billy, bring my sidesaddle, won't you?"

  The younger man complied, but still looked visibly nervous as he approached the beast that had been so furious just a few minutes before.

  "Don't worry. He won't hurt you," Tessa assured him.

  Nor did he. Tessa continued to stroke Nimbus's neck and Billy was able to put pad and saddle on the horse and even get beneath him to tighten the girth. Nimbus sidestepped a bit in protest but did not try to bite or kick.

  "Thank you, Billy," she said when he was finished. "Now, Nimbus." She led the horse to the mounting block and jumped lightly into the saddle. Taking a moment to arrange her feet and skirts, she gave the lightest flick with the reins and Nimbus obediently began walking. Another flick and he broke into a trot, then a smooth canter.

  Tilting her face up to the wind, Tessa laughed, feeling herself coming fully alive, as she always did when she rode. Away from the horses, it seemed she lived but a shadow existence.

  "Let's try a little jump, shall we?" she suggested to the bay, turning him toward the smallest set of rails in the paddock. Without hesitation, Nimbus sailed over the jump, so she set him at the next, which he again cleared without protest. After three more successively higher jumps, she cantered him twice more around the paddock, then gradually slowed him before returning to the gate.

  Her uncle and cousin seemed to be arguing as she approached. "—ain't natural," Harold was saying. "I'm still willing, but—" His father jerked his head Tessa's way and he broke off.

  "Looks to me like you won't have any trouble at all with him on Monday," her uncle said when she reached them.

  "That may be," she said, "but you saw what he was like before. At a meet, there will be dozens of strange horses as well as men to set him off. Suppose he hurts someone?"

  Harold spat. "He just needs a firm hand. Don't you, Nimbus?" He reached for the horse's bridle. Nimbus's ears started to go back, but at Tessa's reassuring whisper, they righted themselves and he allowed the trainer to approach.

  "Gentleness will do more good than your version of firmness, Harold," Tessa said as she dismounted. Nimbus was bound to behave better away from Harold's inept methods. Her thoughts went back to last night and Zephyr's near-catastrophe on the road. But he'd calmed quickly enough, she reminded herself, and hadn't actually hurt himself or Lord Anthony. She pushed the memory aside.

  "Who's the trainer, then, me or you?" Harold asked, as he so often did when she offered advice. "Don't forget that my grandfather was one of the best horse trainers ever."

  That much was true. Tessa refrained from mentioning that Staunton Emery had been her grandfather as well. "Yes, Harold, I know," she said placatingly.

  Long experience told her that to antagonize her cousin was to risk him complaining to Papa— which too often meant further curtailing of her time with the horses. She had far less of that already than she'd like, a mere hour or two a day.

  "I'd better get back to the house." Already she felt the shadows closing in as she turned away from the stables, away from her one real source of happiness. She paused and looked back. "Uncle Mercer, I will ride in the hunt, if we can convince Papa."

  Her uncle nodded, a gleam in his eyes, and Tessa continued up the hill, pushing away her misgivings. If nothing else, such a plan would give her far more time with the horses —and that was worth almost anything.

  * * *

  "Come along, Stormy," Anthony called from atop Cinder, his covert hack. "The meet begins in half an hour and none of us want to bring up the rear, you know."

  Sir Charles emerged from the stable on his own bay hack. "Sorry, sorry. Stirrups needed adjusting. First meet of the season and all that."

  "Never mind your excuses," Rush said. "Let's head out. We've at least a ten minute ride ahead of us."

  A dozen members of the Odd Sock Club set their mounts at a brisk trot toward Quorndon Hall, spirits high in the brisk early November air. Anthony was almost bursting with eagerness to hunt again. Cub hunting and aimless gallops through the countryside weren't the same. This was what life was all about, in his view.

  That his comrades shared his enthusiasm was clear from the rapid-fire chatter and bursts of song along the way. Soon they could hear the assembling Quorn: the babel of male voices, the whinnying of excited horses and, over all, the high-pitched whines and yips of the hounds, as eager as the huntsmen to begin the chase. Rounding the corner into the yard, the familiar throng of red coats and tophats greeted them.

  "What ho, Smith," Anthony greeted the Master of the Quorn. "How look the hounds this year?"

  Thomas Assheton Smith, in his eleventh season as Master, grinned. "Better than ever, Lord Anthony. They'll give us a good run, whatever the fox does. And we've three good coverts marked."

  Thor and Rush rode up to discuss some of the finer points with Smith and one of his whippers-in. Thor, in particular, was keen on breeding hounds himself and always wanted to be up on the latest pairings and the pups they'd produced.

  Anthony listened for a few minutes, then rode over to check on his hunter, Faro, which he'd mount once they reached the first covert. It was an unnecessary complication, he thought, for a good hunter like Faro wasn't likely to be tired by the short ride to the stand of trees or brush where a fox was likely to be found. However, it had become the custom in recent years to ride one horse to covert and another in the hunt itself. Cinder and Faro were both exceptional beasts, so Anthony had no real quibble with the practice.

  Faro was just as he'd been when they'd left the lodge, so Anthony soon turned his attention to the crowd, renewing the few acquaintances he hadn't seen since his arrival in Melton several weeks ago. Old Thripton, he noticed, was fatter than ever, and had a new, heavier hunter to bear him.

  A flash of pink caught his eye and he turned to see that Lord Gryfton had a new mistress this year, mounted for the hunt, as usual. As Anthony himself had done in years past, the viscount made a point of keeping women who could ride, though some were better horsewomen than others. Last year's bit of muslin had been worse than most, refusing to even attempt any of the jumps, Anthony recalled. No wonder she'd been replaced.

  Sight of the pretty blonde in her habit recalled Miss Seaton, who'd never been far from his mind these past few days, if truth be told. That was a woman he'd pay money to see in the hunt, he thought. Not that it could happen, of course, since these days no women but the occasional mistress ever actually rode to the hounds.

  Pity.

  He'd only seen a small sample of Miss Seaton's riding, of course, and that in breeches, but there had been something about her fluid grace, something about the way she sat her mare, that made him certain she'd be a treat to watch flying across the fields, even in a sidesaddle.

  Smiling at the mental image, he turned back to his friends —and blinked. There, at the edge of the yard, on one of the most beautiful bays he'd ever seen, sat Miss Seaton herself in an elegant burgundy habit. She was talking to Mercer Emery, her father's man of business, who was mounted on the same roan mare Miss Seaton had been riding the night Anthony had first met her.

  Mr. Emery was dressed for the hunt, though his red coat appeared rather loos
e across the shoulders, as though made for someone else. He must have brought Miss Seaton to watch the Quorn start off, as ladies occasionally did.

  Without realizing he'd done so, Anthony headed Cinder in their direction. He was only a few yards away when Miss Seaton saw him. Her deep brown eyes widened and her color rose perceptibly as their eyes met.

  "I'm delighted that you have come to see us off, Miss Seaton," he greeted her. "I hope you will be able to find a vantage point from which to watch some of the hunt itself, so that I can show off for you." He winked, mostly to see her reaction.

  To his delight, her cheeks pinkened further and she dropped her gaze charmingly —but only for a moment. Taking a visibly deep breath that made him notice how well-fitted her bodice was, she lifted her chin and met his eyes again.

  "I expect to have an excellent view of the hunt, Lord Anthony," she said, "for I will be riding in it myself."

  * * *

  CHAPTER 3

  Tessa could not help but feel some amusement at the shock on Lord Anthony's face. It helped to mitigate the nervousness she felt at being among more people at once than she'd ever seen in her life. She hadn't fully realized before how ill-equipped she was for socializing on this scale after living such a retired existence.

  "You're riding with the Quorn?" Lord Anthony echoed disbelievingly.

  "My father never allowed his subscription to lapse," she told him. That had been a welcome surprise, though it was money the estate could ill afford. "The Master was willing to allow me on those grounds."

  In fact, it had taken Uncle Mercer two days to convince Mr. Assheton Smith to allow her to ride, even equipped with a letter from her father. Only after calling upon Sir George Seaton himself had Mr. Assheton Smith grudgingly relented.

  "How very forward-thinking of him," Lord Anthony said. "Or, perhaps, backward-thinking. Either way, I must say I approve."

  Now it was Tessa's turn to be surprised, for every other gentleman who had learned of her intent had conveyed shocked disapproval. "Thank you, Lord Anthony. I hope that Nimbus and I will aquit ourselves well." She patted the bay's neck, striving to keep her own nervousness from infecting the horse.