by Brenda Hiatt
Anthony regarded Tessa's uncle through narrowed eyes. "But you discovered it?"
"Aye. She confessed the truth to me once, when I was grieved over the death of my wife, nigh on twenty years ago."
"And you've held it over Sir George's head ever since."
It was a statement, not a question, and it made the steward flush an ugly shade of red. "What are you implying?" he demanded.
Anthony looked from him to his son and back. "It's clear that Sir George feels strongly about preserving his late wife's memory —quite understandably. It's also clear that neither of you are particularly well-suited to your occupations here, which tells me that you've had to exert some hold over Sir George to retain them. Family loyalty only goes so far, after all."
"I've had about enough of your insults," Harold Emery exclaimed, stepping forward belligerently. "It's one thing for Tessa to criticize my work, but I don't have to take that from the likes of you."
Anthony faced him, a slight smile playing about his lips. "Is that a challenge, Mr. Emery?"
Rather to his disappointment, Harold backed down immediately. "I, er, not exactly. But—"
"Sit down, Harold," his father said impatiently. "Even if what you say is true, Lord Anthony, what do you propose to do about it? Convince Sir George to turn us off?"
Anthony looked at Sir George, who was still staring into the fire, looking troubled. "Sir?" he asked gently.
Finally he raised his head, meeting Anthony's gaze. "You're right, my lord —but so is Mercer. I'll risk my estate before I'll risk Grace's name, or Tessa's. Incompetence is no crime, in any event."
Rush, who, with Thor, had remained motionless and silent throughout all of this remarkable exchange, suddenly spoke. "No, but embezzlement is."
"Embezzlement?" Sir George echoed in surprise.
Now the elder Mr. Emery looked as pugnacious as his hot-tempered son. "I doubt you can prove such an accusation, my lord."
"I rather suspect I can," said Rush, coming forward and pulling a card from inside his coat. "Sir George, I have here the name of my own man of business, whom I am willing to have spend a few days going over your account books. He is known for both his thoroughness and his integrity."
Mercer Emery blanched visibly, then, realizing that all eyes were upon him, fell back on bluster. "There's no need to bring in outsiders, Sir George, for what is a family matter. Besides, it was your daughter who insisted—"
"Yes, Tessa told me that she'd enlisted your help to keep me ignorant of the estate's true condition. That must have been extremely convenient, allowing you to play on her sympathies even as you plundered her inheritance." There was no vagueness in Sir George's expression now.
Mercer shook his head, his eyes darting about at the others in the room. "No! It . . . it wasn't like that."
"Suppose we let Mr. Frobish determine that," Rush suggested. "Or, in the alternative, perhaps we can give Mr. Emery the opportunity to leave his post voluntarily instead?"
"Mercer?" Sir George said.
Emery's face went from white to red. "Very well, then. If family means so little to you, I will be gone by morning —and Harold, too. We'll see how well Wheatstone does with no steward at all—and no trainer for your stables."
He stalked to the door. "Come, Harold," he snapped, and his son, who had been standing openmouthed listening to the exchange, jerked to life and followed him from the room. The others could hear them arguing as they went upstairs to pack their belongings.
Sir George still looked worried. "I fear that they are more than capable of dragging my name —and worse, Tessa's— through the dirt, out of revenge. But if they were truly stealing from her—"
"You had no choice, sir," Anthony assured him. "Already, they were getting greedier —thus their plot to force Tessa into marriage with her cousin. They had to be stopped."
"Aye," said Sir George with a heavy sigh. "I just hope the price will not be too high —for Tessa."
"Leave the Emerys to us, Sir George," said Thor, speaking for the first time. "We are not without influence in this area, you know. If they try to spread their poison, we will be ready to counteract it, I promise you."
For the first time since the uncomfortable interview began, their host smiled. "Thank you. Thank you all . . . for everything. But now, I find myself quite tired. Still, I believe I shall sleep better tonight than I have in an age."
* * *
Less than a week later, Tessa found herself exchanging marriage vows in the village church. While she was exceedingly grateful that it was Anthony and not Harold at her side, she had not completely forgiven him for the shock he'd occasioned her father, or for taking her destiny out of her hands.
Still, she could not deny that most of the revelations over the past few days had been welcome ones. Though her father had been evasive about why Uncle Mercer and Harold had left Wheatstone so precipitately, he confirmed her suspicion that Mercer had been diverting estate funds into his own pocket.
He was interviewing for a new steward, while a man recommended by Lord Rushford combed through the estate books. Already, Mr. Frobish had discovered revenues that could now benefit Wheatstone instead of Uncle Mercer's gaming habit— something Tessa had known nothing about.
Then there was the matter of the horses, which were far better off without Harold around, even if they were currently without a trainer. When Tessa had hinted again to her father that she would like to play a role there, he had at least listened carefully before repeating that it would not be proper, giving her hope that in time she might wear down his resistance to the idea. At any rate, there would now be no question of attempting to sell Vulcan before the stallion was properly broken and trained.
But by far the most wonderful news was that Uncle Mercer had been lying to her about her father's heart all these years. She had hugged Anthony when he'd told her, the day after their betrothal, almost forgiving him on the spot for everything else. Almost. But there was still the matter of her father's disappointment in her, her lost freedom —and the ordeal Anthony was about to put her through.
For it had been agreed between Anthony and her father that the new couple would leave on the morrow for London, to meet Anthony's family. Tessa could not recall ever dreading anything so much. First, however, there was the ceremony to get through.
"—so long as you both shall live?" the vicar asked Anthony.
"I will," he replied without the slightest quaver in his voice.
Tessa's voice was not so steady, her emotions were in such turmoil. A few moments later, however, it was done —she and Anthony were married. And she still didn't know if that meant that her fondest dreams were to be fulfilled —or her worst nightmares.
Or, perhaps, both.
"Congratulations, my dear," said her father, the first to greet her after the ceremony. "I believe the two of you will be extremely happy together."
Tessa leaned down to give him a hug. "Thank you, Papa. You've been so good to me this week past, particularly considering—"
"Water under the bridge, sweetheart," he said, and his smile really did look genuine. "Look forward, not back. It's what I mean to do."
She nodded, realizing what that meant to a man who'd spent years doing just the opposite. Her father then turned to Anthony.
"I'm trusting you with my greatest treasure, lad. See you take proper care of her."
Anthony smiled and Tessa couldn't help noticing again, dazedly, that he was by far the handsomest man she'd ever seen. "If I don't, you will be able to bring me to heel for it, sir, as you'll be seeing her daily once we return from London."
That had been yet another pleasant surprise for Tessa: that Anthony was willing to live at Wheatstone after their marriage, and in fact had already made arrangements for Lord Rushford to rent Ivy Lodge from him. It meant that she wouldn't have to leave her father after all.
Except for her trip to London, she remembered with renewed dread.
The rest of the small crowd came forward to of
fer their congratulations: Lord Rushford, Sir Charles, Mr. Turpin, Lady Killerby, and even Lord Killerby, who was now able to get about a little with the help of crutches.
"Brides are always lovely, of course, but you are the loveliest I've ever seen," Lady Killerby declared, coming up to kiss Tessa's cheek before wiping her eyes. "It makes me wish I had a daughter of my own."
"Perhaps Killer will oblige and bring you one someday, my lady," Sir Charles suggested.
"I can only hope," she replied with a despairing shake of her head. "I'd thought being off the hunting field might throw him more in the way of the local girls, but I see I'll have to insist he go to London in the Spring if he's ever to catch himself a wife."
The others chuckled. "Perhaps we'll all go, and urge him along," said Lord Rushford. "There's little else to do in the Spring, after all."
"Or this next week or so," complained Sir Charles. "At least you won't miss much while you're gone, Anthony."
An early frost had put a temporary stop to foxhunting, though the ground was sure to thaw before Tessa and Anthony returned.
"And you can trust me to see that your father is well looked-after and never bored, Lady Anthony," said Lady Killerby.
Tessa started at this first use of her married name. It sounded so odd—and so very unlikely.
Anthony apparently noticed her reaction. "Lady Anthony Northrup," he said. "I rather like the sound of that. Think you can live with it, Tessa?"
"I suppose I must," she said, then realized how ungracious that sounded. "That is, I'm sure I'll grow accustomed to it in time." That wasn't much better. What was wrong with her?
Lady Killerby had insisted on holding the wedding breakfast at Ivy Lodge, claiming that her hostessing skills would get rusty otherwise. Tessa suspected the dilapidated condition of most of Wheatstone had something to do with the plan, and that Anthony had had a hand in it. In any case, it was perfectly true that Ivy Lodge was better suited to a large gathering —for now.
They all repaired, therefore, to Ivy Lodge, and soon Tessa was surrounded by members of the Quorn, Belvoir, Cottesmore and Mountsorrel Hunts, as well as many of their wives. Even the Hilltops were there to offer their well-wishes, completely oblivious to the fact that they'd unwittingly helped to bring the match about.
Many of those present remembered Sir George from his hunting days and made a point of seeking him out to talk over old times. Tessa couldn't help smiling to see him in such glory, managing to ignore for the moment the trials that still lay ahead of her.
"Penny for your thoughts," Anthony whispered in her ear, making her jump. "I'd guess they are agreeable, judging by your expression —though perhaps not so agreeable as mine." He placed a hand at her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze.
Abruptly, Tessa could think of nothing but the coming night. She swallowed. "I, ah, was just thinking that my father looks very happy —and healthy —today."
"I'm glad," said Anthony, following her gaze. "I would not want our marriage to be a source of pain to him. However, if you are happy, I believe he will be as well. And I mean to make sure that you are happy, Tessa."
She turned to look up at him. "I only hope you won't discover we are so mismatched that you cannot be happy. Right now you seem to regard marriage as a new sport to master, but in time the novelty will fade."
"I have no fear that my interest will fade, Tessa," he said with a grin. "If you'd seen some of the debutantes my mother used to throw at my head—! Any of those girls would have bored me inside of a fortnight."
"As you've not known me much longer than that, I'd say I have yet to be put to that test," she said lightly, trying not to imagine the lovely, polished daughters of Society with whom he must be mentally comparing her.
He gazed down at her and the expression in his eyes made her heart turn over. "You've more than passed that test, my sweet, believe me. Time is not what matters, though time will prove the truth of my words. You'll see."
She could only pray he was right.
Two hours later, people finally began to leave. Tessa was just as glad, for her face was beginning to ache from smiling so much. She was exchanging farewells with the Hilltops when she became aware of a slight commotion near the doorway. Turning, she was surprised to see her uncle and cousin, declaring —rather loudly —that they'd come to pay their respects to the newlyweds.
It was the first time Tessa had seen them in a week, and habit, if nothing else, prompted a reluctant concern for their welfare. They were, after all, family.
"Uncle Mercer! Harold! I trust you are both well?" she exclaimed, meeting them halfway across the room. "Wheatstone is not the same without you." That was true enough, though most of the changes so far seemed to be for the better.
"I'll wager it's not," Uncle Mercer said, a trace of bitterness in his smile. "I hope taking over the management of the estate is not taxing your father's health." He glanced over to where Sir George sat near the fireplace, talking with another gentleman and watching the newcomers warily.
"Not at all— though it turns out his health is not so fragile as I had been led to believe," Tessa replied with a significant look that made her uncle frown suddenly.
Harold's expression was more sneer than smile. "But then, you're not noticing much at home these days, I'll warrant, eh?" He nodded in Anthony's direction. "I imagine your poor Papa is feeling rather neglected."
Tessa followed his gaze in time to see Anthony excuse himself from the small group about him and head in their direction. She smiled at him, trying to ignore Harold's spiteful words. That was a demon she'd already wrestled —and vanquished, she reminded herself.
"Ah, Mr. Emery." Anthony's voice was cool. "I am delighted you could both stop by."
He laid a protective hand on Tessa's shoulder as he spoke and she was abruptly irritated. Did he think her unequal to holding her own against her kinsmen? Suddenly, chillingly, she wondered if that were the real reason he had married her.
"They merely came to offer their congratulations," she said quickly, trying not to let that insidious doubt take hold.
Anthony's smile did not reach his eyes. "How nice."
"It seemed the least we could do," Uncle Mercer said, again a bit more loudly than necessary. "Other than Sir George, we are the nearest family Lady Anthony has, after all." He sent a quick glance around the room.
"Meaning that her good fortune is yours?" said Anthony cynically. "How very, ah, enterprising of you."
Uncle Mercer's smile dimmed. "Not at all, not at all," he blustered. "Remember, I've shared in Tessa's care for years, and she and Harold used to be quite . . . close. It's natural we should take an interest in her future."
Tessa was surprised to see Anthony's jaw clench. "Of course," he said shortly. Then, with a stilted nod of his head, he turned away— almost as though he didn't trust himself to remain.
"Your bridegroom looks less happy than I would expect, considering the prize he has just won," Harold commented.
Startled again, Tessa glanced up at her cousin. "Prize—? I presume you mean Wheatstone."
He raised a thick eyebrow. "What else? You're a fetching enough thing, of course, but I doubt that alone would have induced a man like Lord Anthony to marry you, particulary once he learned the truth about your birth. Mind you don't let him throw it in your face, since it's really not your fault, after all."
"What on earth are you talking about?" She glanced from her cousin to her uncle, who only shrugged.
"Harold should not have said anything, for it would upset your father greatly if he knew you were aware of it. I recommend you not mention it to him, for his health is hardly robust, whatever Lord Anthony may have told you to the contrary."
"But—" She was still confused.
"Come, Harold. We will pay our respects to Lady Killerby, then be on our way. I wish you very happy, Tessa," Uncle Mercer said, his tone implying the opposite. "Very happy indeed."
Frowning, Tessa watched them go. What could Harold have meant abou
t her birth? She had never heard a hint that there had been the slightest irregularity there . . . though if there was, Papa would not have told her, nor anyone else, with his concern for the good opinion of the neighborhood.
It was possible, of course, that Harold had simply made it up. She would not put it past him, though she wouldn't have thought Uncle Mercer so petty, particularly as it would cast her mother —his sister —in a negative light. He had implied that Anthony knew about it, whatever it was. She would simply ask him, she decided.
Anthony was relieved to see the Emerys leaving, along with the rest of the guests. Not only did her uncle and cousin push him perilously close to losing his temper with their veiled insults, but he was eager to have Tessa to himself.
His wife —he loved thinking of her that way!— gave her father a parting hug before Rush and Thor loaded him into the carriage for his return to Wheatstone. Anthony helped the coachman to secure his new father-in-law's Merlin chair to the top of the vehicle.
"I will write as soon as I reach London, Papa, and will return as quickly as I may," he heard Tessa say. "Neither Anthony nor I wish to miss any more of the foxhunting season than we must, after all."
That comment made Sir George smile, as Tessa had surely intended. Anthony had not missed the anxiety in the older man's eyes. "I'm sure that's true enough. Don't worry, Tessa, I shall be fine —and I'll answer every letter you send, to assure you of it."
Tessa watched the carriage as it retreated down the drive, her expression a bittersweet mixture of regret and relief.
As they climbed the front steps of Ivy Lodge together, Anthony realized with a sweet stab of anticipation that nothing now prevented him from taking Tessa upstairs. The sun would not set for another hour or more, but he refused to wait until nightfall —not when he had waited so long already.
He had to smile at that thought, for in reality it had only been a few weeks since he'd first met Tessa. But it felt as though he'd wanted her for an eternity.
"Come," he said softly, guiding her back into the house. "It is our time now."
