by Brenda Hiatt
Given her uncle's parting comment, she didn't necessarily agree, but she refused to worry Anthony with what was only speculation.
"Poor Papa," she said. "I suppose his excessive concern with the opinions of others worked against him in this case." She managed a small smile and he hugged her to him.
"That's my girl. Sir George spent years worrying about such things, but you have no need to do so. Not now."
But Tessa wasn't at all certain that her father's concerns had been misplaced. More than ever, she was conscious that she had married above her station. She only hoped that Anthony would not suffer too much for his compassion for her and her father.
* * *
Anthony quite enjoyed dinner that evening. Not only was Tessa at his side where she belonged, but he felt far more relaxed than he had in weeks —and he was fully aware of the reason. As the soup was served, then again over the fish, he shared intimate smiles with his new bride, delighting in her blushes —which everyone else at the table pretended not to notice.
Really, he must be the luckiest man alive, he thought. Not particularly wealthy, perhaps, but with great riches in good friends and a wife he knew would be a constant source of pleasure to him —on many levels.
Not until the sweetmeats were brought in did he notice how quiet Tessa had been throughout the meal. He hoped it was merely mild embarrassment in front of his friends, but he feared it was more. Learning the truth about her birth couldn't have been easy for her. Then there was the trip to London. She hadn't said so, but he knew she was worried about his family's reception.
To be truthful, so was he. He'd waited until today to send word of their marriage, partly from a superstitious worry that something might happen to prevent it, and partly from a hope that his father might not have time to discover everything there was to know about Tessa before they arrived in London. The Duke of Marland prided himself on knowing everything about everyone.
He'd considered not sending word at all, simply arriving at Marland house and introducing Tessa as his bride, but he'd rejected that plan as too risky. This way, if his parents greeted the news with horror or anger, the storm would have time to abate before Tessa could see it.
She was insecure enough about fitting into his world without that. If they were rude to her, he would whisk her back here before they could so much as catch their breath. As far as it was in his power, he intended to keep her safe and happy— always. On that thought, he remembered the surprise he still had in store for her and smiled.
"In light of today's events, I hope you won't mind if my wife and I break with tradition somewhat and leave you all to your port," he said when the ladies rose to remove to the parlor. "Lady Killerby, I know you will excuse Tessa this evening. There is something in the stables I wish to show her."
Tessa took his profferred arm, her eyes frankly curious. "Is it Nimbus?" she asked as they left the dining room. "Or Zephyr?"
Instead of answering, he just smiled and said, "Run upstairs and get a wrap, and I'll show you."
With a last, puzzled frown, she complied, and a minute or two later was back, a warm blue cape clasped about her shoulders. "I'm ready. Now, what is this mystery?"
Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, he led her down the front steps and around the side of the house to the stables. The horses had been fed and were quiet for the most part, though Nimbus shied at the sound of approaching footsteps when they neared his stall.
"It's just me," Tessa called to him, and at once he quieted.
Anthony didn't think he'd ever get tired of watching her effect on horses. Then, as it had once before, a thread of doubt assailed him. Had she somehow affected him with her "magic," making him disregard his own desire for independence as well as his family's expectations for her sake? Or was this simply love?
Would he ever really know?
"Here we are," he said, pushing the traitorous doubt from his mind. "Someone I think you may have missed." He was speaking as much to the horse as to Tessa.
"Cinnamon!" she exclaimed in delight. "Why didn't you tell me you'd bought her, Anthony?" She threw her arms around him and kissed him before turning back to the mare, who was whickering excitedly at the sound of Tessa's voice.
He grinned at Tessa's response, as effusive as he'd hoped. "I feared you might have already discovered it from your uncle. I'm glad I was able to make her a surprise."
"I never asked," she said, stroking the mare's outstretched neck. "Everything last week was so . . . chaotic."
"I understand, believe me. I'd intended to give her to you last Tuesday, but then you refused me. And then, on Wednesday—"
"On Wednesday, you were told I was engaged to marry my cousin, the very day after you had offered for me," she finished quietly. "Oh, Anthony, I am so sorry for the pain I must have caused you. I still cannot believe you can forgive me for that."
He caressed her shoulder through the fabric of her cape. "I never blamed you, Tessa. Or, at least, not for more than a few minutes," honesty compelled him to admit, remembering his emotions on that day. "But even during the brief time that I believed you would really marry Emery, I still intended to give Cinnamon to you as a wedding gift."
Her eyes grew misty, then she turned back to the horse. "Perhaps it's as well you didn't tell me about Cinnamon before. I'd have felt so much worse . . ."
Abruptly, Tessa remembered what Harold had told her about Anthony buying a horse for his mistresses each year. He'd bought Cinnamon before making his initial offer —the one she had misinterpreted. Had his original intention been—? No! She would not doubt him. Not now.
Even if, in light of what she'd learned about her birth, she was more suited to that role.
"Thank you, Anthony," she said then, meaning far more than just his gift of the mare.
* * *
For Tessa, the journey to London was both exciting and dreamlike, two days out of time —two special days of getting to know Anthony better, both physically, during their one night on the road, and through their long conversations in the coach. Two days of imagining that her life could always be like this, free of the judgment, the censure, of others.
Dusk was falling —a very foggy dusk— when they rolled into the streets of London. Tessa peered through the carriage windows, wonder at the sights and sounds dampened by a growing dread. They were to drive straight to Marland House, in the very heart of fashionable London, and there she was to be introduced to the Duke and Duchess of Marland— Anthony's parents.
The fog turned the gas streetlights into fuzzy yellow globes and muted the sounds of more traffic than she'd even imagined. As they slowly worked their way into Mayfair along the thronged streets, she caught glimpses of gracious squares filled with trees and tall, elegant townhouses, with liveried servants and sumptuously dressed people passing in and out of them.
"This is Grosvenor Square," Anthony told her as they turned into the largest square she'd yet seen, surrounded by the grandest of houses. "And this," he continued as the carriage pulled to a halt, "is Marland House."
Tessa knew the hand she placed into Anthony's as he helped her from the carriage was trembling. She had never felt so unequal to anything in her life. What good was her one talent now? None at all.
Desperately, she tried to remember the proper way to curtsey to a duke. Why had she not found a private moment to practice it before they left Leicestershire?
"You'll be fine."
Anthony's whispered assurance told her that her panic must be evident on her face. Quickly, she tried to smooth her features into some semblance of calm and dignity, though she doubted her success. Her heart in her throat, she accompanied her new husband up the broad marble steps and through the double front doors, held wide by a pair of satin-liveried footmen.
The elegance of the front hall surpassed Tessa's wildest imaginings, with its floor of intricately patterned black and white marble, mahogany panelling and undoubtedly priceless works of art displayed on walls and in alcoves. She bar
ely had time to take it in before Anthony ushered her through another pair of tall doors, this one leading into a parlor sumptuously hung with gold.
Several people rose at their entrance, and an imposing man with silvering hair and penetrating, pale gray eyes came forward to peer down his hawklike nose at her. "This, I presume, is the newest addition to our family?" he asked in icy tones.
Tessa released Anthony's arm to sink into her lowest curtsey, barely hearing Anthony's response. One leg began to shake, unused to such a position, so she glanced up, expecting either Anthony or the Duke to take her hand to help her to rise. Instead, she saw them all but glaring at each other, apparently engaged in some contest of wills, while she quivered below, in her absurd pose.
Afraid her leg would give out on her, she tried to rise on her own, only to overbalance and end up ignominiously sprawled on the floor of the elegant Marland House parlor.
* * *
CHAPTER 18
Anthony broke free of his father's censorious stare to kneel in guilty concern. "Tessa! Are you all right?" he asked. How could he have forgotten her, even for a moment, knowing how nervous she was?
Already, Tessa was scrambling to her feet, her face bright red with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," she said to him in an anguished whisper. Then, to his father, "I do apologize, Your Grace. I . . . I am most honored to meet you."
The Duke quirked one eyebrow, but his mouth remained in a grim line. "Perhaps you would like to compose yourself before dinner, Lady Anthony. My son will show you to your chamber."
"Of course," Anthony said, fighting a wild urge to knock his own father down for treating Tessa so dismissively.
A glance showed his mother, his brother Robert, Lord Bagstead, and Lady Bagstead, all looking shocked and disapproving. Best to get Tessa out of this poisonous atmosphere as quickly as possible, he decided, wondering where Edward, Peter and Marcus were.
"I'm sorry," he told her as soon as they were out of the room. "I should have—"
"Pray don't apologize," she interrupted him. "It only makes me feel worse. How can I be so accomplished a rider and so very clumsy doing something as simple as a curtsey? I've doubtless confirmed their worst fears about me." She looked ready to cry.
Anthony paused on the landing to put an arm around her shoulders. "Tessa, please don't distress yourself so. My parents are enough to frighten royalty into momentary clumsiness. They may be obnoxiously high in the instep, but I'm sure they don't think poorly of you for losing your balance— particularly when I left you down there so long. Much of the blame is indeed mine, for letting my father distract me from my duty to you."
She took a long, shuddering breath. "You are very good to me, Anthony —far better than I deserve. Perhaps if I'd paid more attention to my lessons in deportment, instead of always being so wild to go riding—"
"Then you might have become like those simpering misses I've made it a point to avoid," he said, guiding her up the next flight of stairs. He hoped to make her smile, but she did not.
"Or perhaps I would not now be such an embarrassment to you."
There were two footmen stationed along the hallway, so he ushered her into the room he occupied during his infrequent stays at Marland House and closed the door before taking her face between his hands.
"You are in no way an embarrassment to me, Tessa. Quite the reverse, in fact, for I am sure to be the envy of everyone for securing such a lovely wife." Her eyes still doubted him, so he gathered her to him for a kiss that started as mere reassurance, but which soon became passionate.
He slid his hands down her back to cup her bottom, pulling her more tightly against his rising arousal. "Can you doubt that you make me happy?" he murmured against her lips.
Her lips curved against his in a smile— finally. "At least when we are alone," she said, laying her cheek against his chest so that he could not see her expression. "Can we perhaps stay here and have our dinner sent up?"
"What, and admit defeat? I thought you more courageous than that, Tessa," he said, only half teasing.
"I don't think I can face your family again —not yet. Not after making such a fool of myself just now." She looked up at him, pleadingly.
Had he made a terrible mistake in bringing her to London? He'd thought to prove to her that she could handle herself as well here as in the country, to overcome her doubts about herself. Was he instead only reinforcing them?
"Of course you can face them, Tessa," he said with more confidence than he felt. "They are only people, after all, flesh, blood and bone like every other creature. What is the worst thing you can do when a horse displays bad temper toward you?"
"Show fear," she answered promptly. "Oh. But . . . this is not the same."
"Isn't it? Think of my parents as particularly obstreperous horses whose trust and confidence you have to win. They may be skittish and aloof at first, but I've no doubt that you will win them over in time."
Though she still looked skeptical, she finally nodded. "Very well. I'll try—for your sake."
Would she never do anything for her own sake? He almost asked it aloud, but then realized that might undercut her determination. "Thank you. Just remember, you've broken far more frightening beasts than those waiting below."
Twenty minutes later, clad in her best gown of pale blue satin, Tessa accompanied Anthony back downstairs with considerably more trepidation than she'd felt when approaching the wild black stallion, Vulcan. On reentering the parlor, she saw that two more couples had arrived.
"Ah, Peter, Marcus," Anthony exclaimed. "I'm delighted to see you both, and to present you to my bride. Tessa, my two younger brothers and their wives, Lady Peter and Lady Marcus."
Luckily the newcomers required only the shallowest of curtsies, which Tessa was able to perform without mishap, though she couldn't bring herself to look at those who had witnessed her earlier disaster. Instead, she forced a smile to her lips and focused on the new arrivals.
To her surprise, all four of them were smiling, making her worry for a moment that she'd done something wrong after all. But then the short, dark-haired lady— Lady Marcus? —came toward her with hands outstretched.
"I'm delighted to meet you, Lady Anthony —or may I call you Tessa?" Her accent was decidedly American. "And you must call me Quinn. I'm sorry we were not here to greet you when you first arrived." A sidelong glance toward the original four occupants of the room told Tessa that she had heard an account of that meeting.
Though she felt herself blushing again at the reminder, she forced herself to speak, not wanting to appear ungrateful for such a friendly overture. "I thank you . . . Quinn. And yes, please do call me Tessa. I . . . am unused to formality."
"Informality is becoming quite the epidemic in this family, I perceive," said Lady Bagstead sourly from across the room. "I believe I speak for the Duke and Duchess, as well as Lord Bagstead, when I say that it is important to preserve the dignity of the position that the name of Northrup holds."
The Duchess nodded. "I quite agree. Therefore, I trust that those of you who feel compelled to refer to each other so familiarly will confine your use of Christian names to private gatherings such as this one."
Now Quinn colored and Tessa sent her an apologetic glance for involving her new sister-in-law in her own disgrace. However, the dark-haired girl lifted her chin to regard the Duchess with a touch of defiance.
"Of course, Your Grace. Sarah and I have always been careful to observe the proprieties when in public, as I'm sure Tessa will do as well. If you prefer, we can refrain from behaving in a friendly manner while in your presence, as well."
Lady Bagstead's eyes widened in horror, but the Duchess only lifted a brow. "That will not be necessary, of course. Propriety and family affection are not mutually exclusive. Have a mind for the servants, however."
Quinn nodded demurely, then glanced at Tessa, her eyes now twinkling. "Now you know why we didn't get here earlier," she whispered, leading her over to Lords Peter and Marcus, whom Anthony
had already joined.
He took her hand as she reached him, drawing her into the group. "I'll say again how glad I am that you all came, especially on such short notice. I really didn't want Tessa to think our whole family was like that."
"I assure you, we are not," Lord Peter said, sweeping her an exaggerated bow, though he kept his voice as low as Anthony's. His coat was of deep turquoise and his waistcoat of sky blue, in marked contrast to the somber attire of the other gentlemen present. "It is a constant source of chagrin to our father that only one of his sons is properly stuffy."
Lord Marcus nodded his agreement. "Edward, our eldest brother save Robert, is a good sort as well. His wife is approaching her confinement, however, so they have retired to the country early this year."
"I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, as well as Anthony's," said Lord Peter's wife, a dazzlingly lovely blonde. "We were both delighted when we got word this morning of your marriage. You must call me Sarah —at least when the Duchess is not about." Her smile was as genuinely friendly as Quinn's.
Tessa smiled in return, though between Quinn's petite stature and Sarah's ethereal beauty she felt like a sturdy peasant woman. She learned that both were also recent brides, Quinn since the summer and Sarah only a month married, and that both marriages had been as hasty as her own, to the disapproval of the four eldest members of the family.
"So you see," concluded Quinn after a brief explanation, "your match is quite in keeping with the new family tradition."
The others all chuckled and Tessa began to relax. Perhaps she was not quite so dreadfully out of place in this family as she had feared. Certainly, it was pleasant to suddenly have two sisters-in-law who seemed eager to become friends as well. It occurred to her that she'd never really had a close girlfriend.
By the time they all went in to dinner, she was chatting with Quinn and Sarah as though they'd known each other for years.
"You and Quinn must go riding together," Sarah was saying, "for it sounds as though it's a passion you share."
