by Brenda Hiatt
"My, that was quick, Tessa," her father said as she entered. "Why, Lord Anthony had barely begun telling me his version of yesterday's hunt."
"I'm sure it would not have varied substantially from what I told you last night," she assured him. "But perhaps you will have a chance later to continue your talk?" She glanced at Anthony, who had already risen.
"Of course," he said. "I will be happy to pick up where we left off when I bring Miss Seaton home this afternoon."
"Very well, very well, off with you both," said Sir George with a chuckle and a wave of his hand. "I'll also be eager to hear what sort of progress you make with the chestnut."
Tessa waited until they were out of the house to say, "You handle him very well, you know. Thank you."
Anthony smiled down into her eyes, making her breath quicken. "Your thanks make every little effort worthwhile —though in truth I find it no real effort at all. I quite like Sir George."
"I believe the feeling is mutual, my lord," she said primly, though her lips twitched with what she really wished to say. He handed her into the waiting carriage with a smile that told her he understood.
After a few moments, she commented, "It feels odd to ride in a carriage rather than on horseback."
"Does it? I thought your father might find it more, ah, proper. Do you always go on horseback when visiting or shopping?"
She nodded. "We sold our carriage four or five years ago, as Papa could no longer use it. On the rare occasions that I go into the village or to Melton-Mowbray to shop, I generally have my purchases delivered or send Griffith with the farm cart."
"Was it your uncle's idea to sell the carriage?" he asked, glancing out at the passing countryside.
"Yes, but I agreed." She stopped herself short of admitting that they'd needed the money and could not justify the expense of keeping a carriage and coachman when there was barely enough to pay the few servants they had retained.
He turned to look at her. "I see," he said, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he saw much more than she would like. "Perhaps, now that Sir George has shown he is capable of visiting, you may wish for one again. I'll keep an eye out for something suitable."
"Thank you," she said, knowing they could never afford one. How limiting it was to have money problems. She really must discuss the idea of riding other gentlemen's horses with her uncle.
He put a hand over hers. "Tessa, please don't worry. If you'll let me, I'd like to solve all of your problems."
She stared at him, her heart thudding in her chest at his nearness, the masculine scent of him in the enclosed carriage. "I . . . I don't see how you can do that," she stammered. What, exactly, was he suggesting?
As if in answer, he leaned closer and covered her lips with his own. She felt as if she'd been waiting for this forever —certainly she'd been wanting his kiss again since the last, brief one they'd shared three days ago, when she'd walked him to the door. Now she melted into him, losing herself in the illusion that this was right, natural, and something she deserved always.
His lips moved over hers, coaxing more from her. She slid her hands up his shoulders, clinging to him for support —not from the swaying carriage, but from the storm of her own feelings. Obligingly, his arms went around her, pulling her securely to him, enfolding her with a welcome sense that she was cherished, protected. At that moment, she believed he really could solve her problems, that she could lean on him for anything.
The carriage slowed and he released her, with obvious reluctance. "I suppose I shouldn't have done that," he said, "but I can't say I'm sorry I did."
Tessa felt herself flushing crimson. What must he think of her, giving in to his caresses without hesitation, responding so eagerly to his kiss? "I'm . . . I . . ."
"Didn't I tell you not to worry?" he said gently as the carriage came to a stop in front of Ivy Lodge. "Let me take care of you, Tessa, please."
Still confused, she took a shaky breath. She didn't want to ask, but she had to. "Are . . . are you asking me to be your mistress?" She was shocked to realize it was a tempting prospect.
He stared at her, suddenly pale. "God, no, Tessa. Of course not! How can you think it? I'm asking you to be my wife."
* * *
CHAPTER 13
Anthony cursed his inept timing as the coachman opened the carriage door. Tessa was clearly still trying to absorb what he'd just said. "Thank you, John," he said curtly. "I'll help Miss Seaton out myself."
At his tone, the coachman hastily bowed and backed away to busy himself with the horses.
"Tessa?" Anthony asked tenderly, hopefully.
She met his gaze, her expression dazed. "I—I don't know. I must think. I . . . I suppose we'd best go in. Lady Killerby will be wondering what is keeping us out here."
"Of course." He stepped out of the carriage and offered her his hand. In silence, she took it and went down the two steps to the ground and in silence accompanied him to the house.
He wished he knew what she was thinking. What a blockhead he was to make such a clumsy offer, without preamble. So clumsy that she had completely mistaken his meaning —and no wonder, he thought, remembering his phrasing. A man of his reputation, who had given her no indication of his intentions, why should she not think the worst of him? Surely, though, now that he'd plainly stated his wishes—
"Ah, Miss Seaton, how nice to see you again," exclaimed Lady Killerby, standing just behind the butler as the door opened. "Could you not prevail upon your father to accompany you?"
Tessa glanced questioningly up at Anthony, who cleared his throat. "Ah, Sir George was not prepared to go out just yet, my lady, nor was he certain that his manservant was up to the task of helping me carry him down the stairs."
He'd completely forgotten that Lady Killerby had suggested Sir George come as well, so anxious was he to have some time alone with Tessa. After all of his lecturing to her on honesty, what must she be thinking of him now?
"No matter," Lady Killerby said with a toss of her head. "Perhaps I shall call on him later. But now, do come in and have some tea, Miss Seaton, before you begin this, ah, curious task Lord Anthony has set for you."
Her gaze was frankly questioning, and Anthony was relieved when Tessa summoned a smile. "Not so curious, my lady, for Zephyr came from my father's stable and I had a small hand in his earlier training. I merely came to offer some advice."
"I see," Lady Killerby responded in a tone that implied she did not see at all. They entered the parlor then, where Killer was again propped on the sofa. "Look, William, Miss Seaton has come to visit," his mother said with a fond smile at the invalid.
"Give you good day, Miss Seaton," Killer exclaimed, inclining his head. "Kind of you to stop by to amuse me while the others are all gone hunting."
Tessa stepped forward, concern making her even more beautiful, in Anthony's opinion. "Have you been very bored then, my lord?"
"Bored! How can he be bored when I am here?" his mother replied indignantly. "I simply thought some other diversion might be beneficial."
Killer glanced from his mother to Tessa, doing a poor job of hiding a grin. "Very beneficial. I feel better already."
"I'm delighted, Killer, but you can't have her for long, I'm afraid," Anthony said then. "Once she's had her tea, she's going to help me with that chestnut I bought off Ballard. You're welcome to watch from the window, if we can maneuver you into a chair."
"That might be amusing, I suppose," Killer said, his smile dimming slightly.
"The tea is ready," announced Lady Killerby, pouring out. She then took charge of the conversation while everyone sipped.
Anthony decided it was just as well, as neither he nor Tessa was likely to be good company until they had finished their aborted conversation. Draining his cup, he stood. "Now, what say we reintroduce you to Zephyr, Miss Seaton?"
She nodded and stood as well, though her gaze slid away from his, as it had done since they entered the house. "Yes, I'm quite looking forward to seeing him again."
Thanking Lady Killerby, she followed him out to the front steps, where he sent a footman to the stables to have Zephyr brought round. The moment the man was gone, he turned to Tessa.
"You didn't give me an answer," he reminded her, ducking his head to peer into her face.
"I know."
The moment he had clarified his intentions, Tessa had thought her heart would burst for joy. Surely, this was the answer to all of her prayers! But as shock subsided, doubts crept in, and during the brief interlude in the parlor of Ivy Lodge, common sense had reasserted itself. Now she was glad she had not instantly accepted him, as every instinct had prompted her to do.
"I . . . I think you cannot have thought this through, Anthony," she said carefully. "Kind as your impulse was, I fear a match between us is impossible."
He looked startled but not angry, as she'd feared he might. "Might I ask why?" he asked stiffly, guardedly.
At once she sought to reassure him. "Not because I do not care for you, please believe me. But your world and mine are so different, and . . . and I cannot leave Papa. He needs me."
Anthony put a hand on her shoulder and she could feel him quivering with suppressed emotion. "I need you too, Tessa. I've wanted you almost from the moment we met, and now—" He broke off, for a groom was approaching with Zephyr on a lead.
"We'll finish this later," he promised.
She nodded, but doubted her decision would change, much as she wished it could. He clearly desired her . . . and pitied her. But he had said nothing of love, which surely meant he would take no lasting harm from her refusal. Once he was gone from the Shires and she was no longer immediately before him, he would forget her. After all, Anthony was the son of a duke, a member of one of the most exalted families in all England. His parents must surely have higher hopes for him than the daughter of an impoverished country squire, granddaughter of a yeoman horse trainer. Marrying her might make him a laughingstock, from what she had heard of Society.
And then, of course, there was Papa. Losing her mother had nearly killed him, making him so reckless of his life that he'd ended up permanently maimed. What would losing her cause him to do? He might pretend to be happy, for her sake, but once she was gone? No, no, she dared not risk it.
Anthony took Zephyr's lead from the groom, speaking softly to the horse. "There, then, fellow. Let's show Miss Seaton how much better you're doing, eh?" He placed a hand on the gelding's neck and to Tessa's surprise, Zephyr didn't even flinch.
"Bring me his saddle and bridle," Anthony said to the groom, who nodded and headed back to the stables. Then, to the horse, "Let's warm you up a bit, shall we?"
Holding the lead firmly, he led the chestnut around the lawn, first at a walk, then at a trot. By then the groom had returned with the tack. Tessa stepped forward, ready to help saddle the horse, but Anthony shook his head. "Not yet. I want you to see how much progress we've made already."
She watched skeptically as Anthony threw pad and saddle over Zephyr's back, for she recalled that he'd always shied when the girth was tightened —at least, if it was tightened by anyone but herself. To her surprise, however, he stood quietly as Anthony performed that operation, not even protesting when he gently punched him in the side to make him let out his breath for the final cinching.
"You certainly have made progress," she exclaimed. At the sound of her voice, Zephyr's ears pricked forward and he half-turned his head toward her.
"Not yet, lad," Anthony said. "You can visit with her soon enough." He fastened on the bridle, then vaulted into the saddle. Again, the horse made no protest whatsoever.
Tessa stared. "I begin to wonder what you needed me for."
"He still startles much too easily," Anthony said. "A definite failing, if he's ever to make a good hunter. I've been gradually getting him used to various objects and people, but the sudden appearance of, say, a dog, will still make him shy badly. I'd like to get him past that, and thought your presence might help there."
"Of course." She was amazed, and a bit embarrassed at her own conceit. Anthony had made as much progress with Zephyr in two weeks as she'd managed in two months. Had she come to rely too heavily on her special gift, neglecting more conventional training methods? It was a chastening thought.
After trotting Zephyr up to a few trees and a pump in the side yard— objects that certainly would have made him shy under any rider but Tessa a month ago—he sent the groom for a dog.
"Now will come the real test," he said.
Tessa moved closer, ready to calm Zephyr if necessary —though in truth she was beginning to think Anthony had nearly as exceptional a touch with horses as herself. She'd never seen any man except her grandfather handle a difficult horse so well.
The groom came around the corner with a foxhound on a lead.
"One of Thor's hounds," Anthony told her. "He's begun building his own pack since the war ended. Steady, Zephyr," he added as the horse took a nervous step backward.
He motioned the groom to move closer, keeping the chestnut on a tightened rein. "All right, Tessa," he said softly. "Talk to him."
Wanting to allow Anthony to do as much of the calming as possible, she waited until Zephyr looked ready to bolt. "Come now, Zephyr, it's not so bad," she called then, in her lilt. "Listen to Lord Anthony, your new master."
At the same time, Anthony stroked the horse's neck, murmuring words of comfort himself. The gelding stopped trembling and prancing, though he still eyed the approaching dog askance. Tessa wasn't sure how much was due to her influence and how much to Anthony's. Perhaps Zephyr wasn't either, which was all to the good.
With Anthony continually soothing the horse but Tessa speaking only once or twice more, the groom was able to bring the dog to within a few feet of the chestnut, lead it in a circle around the horse, then away. Tessa had not touched Zephyr even once. "Amazing," she breathed.
"You see? I do have talents of my own," Anthony said with a grin as the groom moved out of earshot. "Perhaps I can convince you to let me—"
Just then, a shrill voice came from above them. "What on earth were you doing with that dog, Anthony?" called Lady Killerby from the parlor window, which she'd apparently opened just for that purpose, as the November air was chill.
Tessa jumped, and so did Zephyr, though Anthony calmed him again at once. "Training this horse, my lady, as you see," he called back. "We are finished for now, however."
"Good. I'm having luncheon brought up, so you have just time to wash and join us." With a nod that made the chartreuse feather in her turban bounce, she slammed the window shut.
Anthony rolled his eyes, then said, "Why don't you go on inside while I return Zephyr to his stall. I'll be with you directly."
Part of her was glad that their discussion had again been postponed, but another part of her was as frustrated as Anthony looked. Was she secretly hoping he could convince her to change her mind? Folly, if so, for it would be most unwise —for both of them.
Conversation was general but lively during the elegant luncheon Lady Killerby had ordered, allowing Tessa little time for contemplation. Every time her thoughts strayed to Anthony's remarkable declaration, Lady Killerby demanded her response to some trivial question or other. It was some small comfort that Anthony seemed similarly preoccupied.
When the meal finally ended, Tessa thanked her hostess as well as the others, saying that it was time she returned to Wheatstone and her father. Anthony rose with her, and she tried to marshall her thoughts for the inevitable argument during the carriage ride back, when they would finally be alone again.
"A moment," said Lady Killerby. "I believe I will come with you and pay a call on Sir George myself, as he was unable to come here. It cannot be good for him to spend so much time alone."
Tessa glanced at Anthony in time to see him smooth a sudden frown. "Of course, my lady," he said blandly. "I will have the carriage brought round while you get your wrap."
Ten minutes later all three of them were trundling along the r
oad to Wheatstone, Lady Killerby dominating the conversation much as Sir George had done during his drive to Ivy Lodge on Sunday.
"I know that your father does not go out as a rule, Miss Seaton," she was saying, "but do none of his neighbors visit him? He was such a sociable man in his youth, I can't imagine him living so isolated now."
"He has been weak since the accident that crippled him six years ago, my lady," Tessa replied. "As he tires so easily, he has rarely been at home to visitors, and they eventually stopped coming."
She did not mention that it was she herself who had generally sent any callers away, usually without notifying her father.
"Hmph. He didn't appear particularly weak or tired Sunday night. More society will do him good, I'll be bound," said Lady Killerby decidedly. "Once it's known I have called upon him, the neighbors will follow suit, mark my words. And it will be known by nightfall, country gossip being what it is." She chuckled.
Tessa smiled uncertainly. "Perhaps you are right, my lady."
Sir George certainly seemed pleased to see Lady Killerby when they arrived at Wheatstone. "What a delightful surprise!" he exclaimed, welcoming her into the parlor. "Tessa, see if Cook can arrange for a little something extra on the tea tray, won't you? Come in, my lady, come in, do, and make yourself comfortable."
While Tessa rang the bell, then stepped out of the room to consult with Mrs. Bealls, Lady Killerby settled herself into the chair by the parlor fire that Sir George indicated. Soon, the two of them were deep in conversation, reminiscing about the days of their youth in Leicestershire.
"Perhaps I've done wrong to shield him from callers all these years," Tessa admitted in an undertone to Anthony, observing the animation in her father's face. "I really thought—"
"I know. You thought you were acting for the best. Perfectly understandable, as I said before. Now you see him doing so well, though, might you be persuaded that he is not, perhaps, quite so dependent upon you as you have believed?"
