Tessa's Touch

by Brenda Hiatt

  "Amazing animal. Simply amazing. I must have him," his diminutive friend was saying. "Gaston and Bancroft are both interested as well, but I should be able to outbid either of them. Miss Seaton seems to like me, as well, which may count for something."

  "Oh?" Anthony strove to conceal his amusement. "What makes you say so?"

  "Every time I smile at her she smiles back. Not all women require height and broad shoulders in their men, you know," Killer replied, preening a bit.

  "Not if he's got enough in his pockets," Stormy agreed, riding up to join them just then. "Since you're well padded there, that should give you a fighting chance with the fair maiden, eh?"

  Killer frowned. Anthony felt like doing the same but restrained himself. "Miss Seaton ain't like that," Killer protested. "She's a real lady— anyone can see that."

  He said it a bit too loudly, for Lord Porrington sidled over on his lanky dun gelding. "Where would a 'real lady' learn to ride like that?" he asked with an unpleasant chuckle.

  Anthony had never cared for Porrington, but just now he found him more irritating than usual. "I suppose the same could be said for a real gentleman," he said casually. "Though that wouldn't explain you, now, would it?"

  It took a moment for his import to sink in, but then Porrington scowled. "As for Miss Seaton, I've heard her grandfather was a horse trainer," he said with a sneer. "That makes her little better than the other females I've seen in the hunt, however much better she might ride." He headed off before any of them could respond.

  "Guess he still hasn't got over that dunking he took last year," Rush commented. "Obnoxious fellow, isn't he?"

  The others agreed, to Anthony's relief. He'd prefer not to be put in the position of defending Miss Seaton to his friends. "Killer, be sure you spend some time with that bay before bidding on him," he said then, as much to change the subject as anything.

  "I suppose I can try," replied the plump viscount with a shrug. "But if a lady—" he emphasized the word with a glare at Porrington's retreating back—"can handle him so well, I can't imagine I'll have any trouble."

  Anthony couldn't think of any other caution he might make that wouldn't prick his friend's pride, so he merely nodded and determined to take a look at the horse himself that evening, when Miss Seaton would presumably have gone home.

  The hunt ended an hour or so later, one of the best opening hunts Anthony could remember. Against his better judgment, he rode over to Miss Seaton, who had indeed finished out the day. Not surprisingly, he supposed, she showed no desire to be in at the kill.

  "It's all part of the hunt," he said, drawing Faro up next to her, for she was looking distressed.

  She gave a strained little laugh. "I know. And I know foxes are pests, killing poultry and such, but this will never be my favorite part of the hunt, I fear. A noble beast that gives us such sport would seem to deserve a better reward."

  "I've never thought of it like that," Anthony confessed. "If it's any comfort, I've been to many a meet where the fox has escaped in the end. No one seemed to mind, as long as we had a good run out of it."

  "Thank you," she said, and her smile now seemed genuine. "It does help to know that the fox has a sporting chance."

  Anthony was struck again by the beauty of her wide brown eyes, the smoothness of her skin and the rich honey color of her hair, peeping beneath her hat and veil. "You have an affinity with more than just horses, I see."

  She blinked, as though uncertain how to take his words. "I suppose so, though horses are what I've always been closest to. My mother—" she broke off and glanced away.

  Remembering Porrington's ill-natured remark, he changed the subject. "My friend, Lord Killerby, seems determined to buy your hunter."

  "Several others have expressed interest as well, according to my uncle. The final price may be high." Was she trying to give him ammunition to discourage Killer?

  "He can afford it," Anthony said, trying to gauge her expression, "but I hope he won't be sorry."

  She met his gaze for an instant, then looked away again. "Nimbus is an excellent hunter, as you've seen yourself today."

  "With you mounted on him, at least." Was that a flash of alarm in her half-averted eyes? "Should he get a bad deal, I'd probably encourage him to speak to your father," he warned her.

  He'd expected a reaction, but not the mixture of fear and anger in the face she now turned toward him. "I beg you will do no such thing! A gentleman stands by his bargains, my lord. But if there is any sort of a problem, I would ask that your friend come to my uncle, or to me. My father's health is poor and I'll not have him bothered by such things."

  "My pardon," he murmured, realizing he'd somehow hit a sensitive spot. "Sir George did not seem so feeble to me, for all he is crippled."

  "No. No, I suppose not," she said, visibly reining in her anger. "It is his heart, you see. The doctor says it is not strong, so we strive to shield him from unnecessary upsets." Her lower lip trembled.

  Anthony felt an overwhelming urge to reassure her, to offer her his help in some way, though he had no idea how. That lip looked so vulnerable, so . . . delectable. Firmly, he checked that train of thought and wondered what else they might be shielding Sir George from. The sagging roof, perhaps?

  His intense curiosity about her situation sounded another warning in him. "My apologies, Miss Seaton. I will direct Lord Killerby to speak to your uncle if he has any questions. And now, I see Mr. Emery coming this way, so I will take my leave of you. Dare I hope I will see you at another meet this season?"

  She glanced quickly toward her uncle with an expression he couldn't read. "I hope so," she said, "though that will be up to the hunt masters. Good day, Lord Anthony."

  With that, she wheeled the magnificent bay and went to meet Mr. Emery, who would presumably be taking Nimbus with him into Melton tonight, where any auctions and sales would take place. Anthony watched her go with mingled regret and relief, fully aware that he was beginning to enjoy Miss Seaton's company rather too much.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 4

  "How are you, my dear, and how was the meet?" Sir George greeted Tessa upon her return. "Come, have a seat and tell me all about it. I've already rung for tea, as dinner is still more than an hour off. No doubt you are famished, as I always was after a good day's run."

  Though she was already stiffening alarmingly, Tessa could not help smiling at her father's eagerness. "Will a brief summary do for now? I very much need to wash and change before dinner, as you can no doubt see— and smell."

  He waved that concern away with one hand. "I never mind the scent of horses. It brings back some of the happiest times of my life. I assume from the hour that it was a good run today?"

  "It was." She proceeded to give him the high points of the day —the various jumps, who refused them and who acquitted themselves particularly well, the terrain, the horses and the hounds. She did not, of course, mention the criticism she'd received from some of the sportsmen for her very presence.

  "How I wish I'd been there," Sir George sighed when she finished. "I'm sure you were magnificent, my dear, just as your mother was the first time I saw her. Why, she could clear fences some of the boldest men feared to attempt."

  Before he could wander into further reminiscences —all of which Tessa had heard before —she stood. "Now, Papa, I pray you'll excuse me until dinner. You may not mind the smell of horses and sweat mingling with your meal, but I'd prefer to have Cook's excellent dishes unadulterated."

  The dreaminess left his expression as he focused on her. "And you're a bit sore, I see. Yes, a hot bath will do you good. I will see you at table, Tessa —and thank you."

  She did not need to ask what his thanks were for. While listening to her account of the meet, he'd seemed more animated than she'd seen him in months —perhaps years. She'd wondered why he had capitulated so quickly when she and Uncle Mercer had proposed that she ride to the hunt, but now she understood. Through her, he could vicariously live again the glories of h
is youth and forget for a while the infirmity that prevented him ever hunting again.

  Going up the stairs, eager for that bath, she could almost feel her bones creaking. Still, she would not trade the day she'd had for anything. Foxhunting had been more exciting than she'd imagined —the thrill of sailing over fence, ditch and hedge, the gallops across the fields with other horses thundering alongside.

  The frank admiration in Lord Anthony's eyes.

  No! She mustn't dwell on that part, for that way lay folly and heartbreak. His practised flirting made it clear he was experienced at the game. He no doubt found her an amusing novelty, a diversion for his brief time in the Shires, but he would forget her once he returned to London Society —which he would do as soon as hunting season ended. They all did.

  Her bath was ready when she reached her chamber. Smiling with anticipation, she allowed Sally to help her strip off her mother's old habit, then her underthings, then sank into the blissfully hot water with a sigh.

  Of course, Papa had been pestering her for years to spend a Season in London. But even if they could afford it, she would not follow Lord Anthony to Town like some lovesick puppy. She wasn't sure she even liked the man, for all he was devastatingly handsome. Anyway, the lack of money made the whole matter moot.

  Letting that brief, silly fantasy dissipate, Tessa picked up a cloth and began scrubbing herself clean of the day's dirt.

  * * *

  When Anthony and his friends arrived at the George for the first Hunt Dinner of the season, he was scarcely surprised to find that one of the main topics of conversation was Miss Tessa Seaton. Other than the occasional mistress, she was the first woman in a decade to ride with the Quorn, and that she had ridden so well was a matter of both wonder and resentment among those present.

  "You'd think these fellows had never seen a woman on horseback before," Thor commented to the others as they moved into the common room, which was thronged with men in the evening hunt uniform of scarlet lined with white. "Do none of their sisters ride?"

  "Even your sister can't hold a candle to Miss Seaton on horseback, Thor, and you know it," Killer said to his much larger friend. "Though I'll grant you Miss Turpin is a fine rider."

  Anthony nodded along with the rest, remembering when Thor's sister had petitioned to ride to the hunt last year —and been refused by both brother and father, in no uncertain terms.

  "I can't help wondering why Sir George allowed his daughter to ride today," commented Rush, echoing Anthony's thoughts —and doubtless those of half the room. "That uncle of hers I can more easily understand, for he doubtless sees profit in it." He nodded to the group by the fireplace, where Mercer Emery was talking with a dozen or so gentlemen.

  Partly for Killer's benefit, Anthony said, "Yes, he knows he'll get twice as much for that hunter because she was riding it today. I doubt he himself could have handled that beast at all, much less shown him to advantage in the hunt."

  Thor glanced down at Killer, who was frowning suspiciously at Anthony. "I'll not bid on that horse myself tonight, even if he is one of the few fast hunters who can bear me. I prefer to know a bit more about a beast first —and did you note how Miss Seaton kept her distance during the checks? Did anyone else so much as touch her hunter?"

  "I did, if you must know," Killer said testily. "Just after the meet, when Miss Seaton was turning him over to Mr. Emery before she left. She didn't seem at all nervous about letting me near him, for all you lot want to read something nefarious into her motives in riding him."

  "I spoke with Miss Seaton more than once during the hunt myself," Anthony felt obliged to confess. "Her mount showed spirit, but no ill-temper that I noticed, even when Faro was only an arm's length away. Still, a horse may be different with every rider. I'd insist on sitting him myself, were I interested in buying."

  "I'm minded to ask about the hunter Emery was riding today," Stormy said then, gesturing to the group by the fireplace. "That mare had pretty lines, and might do well with a more skilled rider. She may go cheaply after today's showing, too." He grinned and the others chuckled, for Stormy was well known to have an eye for a bargain.

  He led the way across the room and the others followed. As they neared the fireplace, they heard Emery saying, "—not until after dinner, of course, when everyone is here and has a chance to bid. I'll be available for questions until then, however."

  Several of those near him drifted away, allowing Anthony and his friends to approach. "You've not forgotten I'm interested, have you, Mr. Emery?" Killer asked by way of greeting.

  Mr. Emery, only an inch or two taller than the little viscount, smiled. "Of course not, my lord. But, as I was telling those others, you'll have to take your chance in the bidding after dinner, along with the rest."

  "I have a question or two about that hunter, if you don't mind," Anthony said then.

  Mr. Emery's smile was almost too pleasant. "Of course, my lord. What do you wish to know?"

  "Was he bred at the Seaton stables?" he asked, already knowing the answer from his conversation with Miss Seaton earlier. When Emery shook his head, Anthony continued, "How long has Sir George owned him? And from where was he purchased?"

  "Nimbus is one of our more recent acquisitions," Mr. Emery replied, his smile now a bit stiff. "His sire was Equity and his dam Thundress, of the Preston and Littlebottom stables."

  "The Equity, who won all those races a decade ago?" asked Killer, visibly impressed.

  Emery nodded. "The very one. Nimbus is five years old, so should just be coming into his own as a superb hunter."

  Though somewhat reassured, Anthony noticed that the man hadn't exactly answered his second question. "Then you purchased him from Littlebottom?" he asked. "Why so quick a turnaround? I'd have thought you'd have wanted to breed him."

  "He was already gelded," Emery began, then looked off to the left. "Ah, it appears supper is being served. I'll speak with you gentlemen later."

  Anthony didn't think it was his imagination that Emery seemed eager to escape his questioning. "It seems odd that a horse with such bloodlines would be gelded so young. It could indicate a temperament problem after all, wouldn't you say?" he asked his friends.

  "Aye," Thor agreed. "I've known more than one valuable stallion that was gelded because he was too vicious to breed."

  "Nimbus didn't show any sign of viciousness today," Killer pointed out defensively. "If that's why he was gelded, I'd say it worked."

  "Perhaps so," Anthony said with a shrug.

  "Let's go in to dinner, shall we?" Stormy urged. "We can continue this discussion while we eat."

  As they were all hungry, this suggestion met with no resistance.

  "—still say it's dashed odd," Sir Brian Olney was saying as Anthony took his seat next to the man at one of the long tables in the dining room. "Why is it no one had ever heard of her before today?"

  "Porrington claims her mother was daughter to old Seaton's horse trainer," said John Bingle from across the table. "Word is, when his son, the current baronet, married her, the old man cast them off— then died a year later. Seaton's kept the girl close on the estate all her life."

  "Can't think why," Sir Brian said, shaking his head. "Nothing to hide there, from what I could see. Quite a tempting morsel, in fact, even apart from her riding."

  Anthony deliberately took a large helping of roast beef before speaking. "Bear in mind that the lady's uncle is here in this room. You wouldn't want to provoke any sort of— incident —by speaking too freely about his niece."

  The thought of Mercer Emery challenging a Meltonian over Miss Seaton's honor was laughable, but Anthony's goal was to stop such talk before it went too far. Miss Seaton wasn't his responsibility, of course, but he couldn't help admiring her pluck. He had no desire to see her suffer for it by having her name dragged through the Melton gutters by men like Porrington.

  "No, no, of course not," Sir Brian said, glancing about with mild alarm. He was almost as unlikely a duellist as Emery. "Just curious,
you know, as we all are."

  Rush followed Anthony's lead. "Pretty and intriguing as Miss Seaton is, I confess myself more interested in the hunter she rode today. Mr. Emery tells us his sire was Equity."

  That successfully diverted the conversation to horseflesh, and discussions of bloodlines and past hunts and races lasted for the rest of the meal.

  After dinner, as the wine was passed round again, attention turned to business— specifically, the sale of horses ridden that day. The tables were cleared away and the men moved about to question each other on the various points of their mounts. Killer, of course, made a beeline for Emery, with the rest of the Odd Sock Club behind him.

  As before dinner, several gentlemen were asking about Nimbus and receiving the same answers Anthony had earlier. The bidding floor was established at five hundred pounds, but it was clear that the horse would go for far more than that.

  After listening for a few minutes, Stormy spoke up. "What about the roan mare you rode today, Mr. Emery? Surely you'll start her bidding a deal lower than that?"

  Mr. Emery glanced sharply at him, then smiled. "She's not up for sale tonight," he said, "though she'll be available soon, perhaps even by the end of the week."

  Stormy looked disappointed. "Not for any price?"

  "That depends," Emery said with a raised brow. "What are you prepared to offer?"

  "I didn't see her take any fences, so I was thinking something on the order of two hundred pounds." A few nods indicated that others thought this a fair offer.

  "I'm sorry," Emery replied. "As I said, I'm not authorized to sell her tonight, though of course I'll mention your offer to Sir George. Yes, sir, you had a question about Nimbus?" he said, turning to someone else.

  Anthony pretended to listen, but his thoughts had taken another path. "By the end of the week," Emery had said. He'd be willing to lay odds that Tessa Seaton would be riding that roan mare in an upcoming meet— after which Emery would be able to ask far more than two hundred pounds.