by Brenda Hiatt
Now she managed a smile, but her eyes were shadowed with weariness and strain. "It's not your fault, Anthony. If Peter is right, it would be folly to leave now, much as I long to return home. I only wish you had believed me when I told you I would not fit in here."
Anthony felt a fist of guilt squeezing his vitals. He had failed Tessa at every turn, it seemed, and now she would suffer yet more because of his arrogant assumption that he could shape the world to his liking.
"It is my fault." He placed his hands on her shoulders, soft but firm through the thin satin of her peignoir. "I should never have brought you here, torn you away from the place where you were happy. I have complicated your life terribly, Tessa, and I apologize for that."
She reached up to caress his jaw with gentle fingers. "Perhaps you'd have done better to simply make me your mistress after all. Maybe both of us would have been happier that way."
"No." He released her as though her skin burned him. "I've been happier since marrying you than I've ever been in my life."
But still her smile was sad. "Thank you for saying so, Anthony. But even if it's true, I'm not sure it will be enough. Already I am forcing you to miss the remainder of the foxhunting season. How many other inconveniences —even hardships —will I cause you? And how long will it be before you resent me for them?"
"Do you think any of that matters to me?" But even as he asked it, he knew that it did, at least a little bit. Foxhunting had been his passion for most of his life. Still, he would give it up in a heartbeat if it would make Tessa happy —not that it would.
"I'm far more concerned about you—and about your father. I know you are worried about leaving him for longer than you'd planned. I'll write tomorrow, let Rush and Lady Killerby know—"
"I'm . . . I'm sure Papa will be fine," she said with obvious effort. "He would not want me to run away before I can establish myself in Society."
He reached out to stroke her unbound hair, rippling in sensuous waves past her shoulders. "I just don't want to see you hurt anymore."
"Weren't you the one who warned me not to show fear?" she asked, lifting her chin to meet his eyes squarely. "Surely that applies here as well. I simply have a whole herd of horses to win over now, instead of a few."
"Have I told you that you are a remarkable woman, Tessa?" His heart swelled with pride as well as love. "You will win them over, I have no doubt whatsoever. As you've won me." He pulled her to him for a kiss.
She responded eagerly at first, but as he led her to the bed, she swayed, understandably worn out by her evening's ordeal. Unwilling to tire her further, he ceased his caresses, instead drawing back the coverlet for her. With a sleepy, confused glance, she crawled beneath it.
Tenderly, he tucked her in, then kissed her brow. "Sleep, Tessa. Everything will look brighter in the morning." Then he returned to his own chamber, hoping fervently that his words would prove true.
When Tessa awoke the next morning, the sun was already streaming across the bed, reflecting in the dressing table mirror to cast a bright oval on the opposite wall. Confused, she looked around, trying to guess the hour. Where was Anthony?
Abrubtly, memory returned: the glittering ballroom, the evening that had started so well and ended so disastrously, her bedtime conversation with her husband . . . his sudden loss of interest in her kisses. Or had she dreamed that part?
But no, a glance at the other side of the bed showed that she had been the only occupant, her pillow the only one dented by use. Sitting up, she bit her lip, fighting down her disappointment. It was the first night since their wedding that they hadn't—
Quickly, she rose, banishing that thought, trying not to blow it out of proportion. She had been tired. So had he. Still, it seemed a depressing harbinger of how last night's events would affect their marriage.
A tap at the door was immediately followed by Sally, bearing a tray of toast and chocolate —the very luxury she had imagined, but which today seemed a lonely way to breakfast.
"I thought you might be wanting a bit of something, my lady," the maid said, setting the tray on a low table. "Or would you like to dress first?"
Tessa took a sip of chocolate, but found its sweetness cloying. "What time is it, Sally?"
"Close on eleven o' clock, my lady, but Lord Anthony said I wasn't to wake you. Lady Marcus just arrived to see if you wanted to go riding, so I brought up a tray, in case you were up. She says it is quite the thing to walk or ride in the Park after services on Sunday —though of course you slept through those."
Though amazed that she could have slept so late, Tessa realized she must have needed the sleep. Quickly, she made a decision.
"Run and tell Lady Marcus I will be down directly, then come back and help me into my new habit." A ride would be just the thing to clear the cobwebs from her brain and make her feel like herself again.
* * *
"I still can't get over how well you manage that horse," Quinn said as she and Tessa entered the Park gates. "It was all I could do to lead him from the mews to Marland House without him biting my Tempest." She patted her mare's neck.
Tessa smiled, determined not to mind that Anthony had not offered to come along. She told herself that he had doubtless believed that she and Quinn wanted time alone to discuss feminine matters, unlikely as that might seem for one as little accustomed to feminine pursuits as herself.
"I believe he is calmer today than he was before, don't you?" she asked, mainly to divert her thoughts.
"Oh, yes. I wouldn't have dared lead him before. Which also amazes me— that in scarcely more than an hour on his back, you have already effected a permanent change in him. Have you considered training horses yourself?"
Tessa sent her a sharp look, but she appeared to be quite serious. "Actually, that has been my dream for years, though of course my father would never allow it. Think how that would scandalize Society, after the way they reacted to learning about my grandfather."
"Oh, pooh," said Quinn dismissively. "Society places far too much store on such things, in my opinion —but then, that is my American upbringing speaking, I suppose. My own father was as insistent that I observe the proprieties as yours has been —not that I always obeyed," she added a wink.
"Nor have I," Tessa confessed. "In fact—" But she stopped short of admitting that her poor judgment had ultimately resulted in her marriage. It would be to admit that Anthony likely would not have wed her under normal circumstances, and she could not bear to voice that thought aloud.
Luckily, a diversion occurred to distract Quinn from Tessa's unfinished sentence. Lady Bagstead was entering the Park gates just then in a dark green high-perch phaeton, handling the ribbons herself. A small boy sat at her side.
"Good day, my lady," Quinn greeted her cheerfully. "And good day to you, too, William. Out for your Sunday drive with your mother? How grown up you look today!"
The little boy beamed, but the Marchioness looked less than pleased. "Lord Northing, if you please. I did not know you and Lady Anthony meant to ride today." She glanced about. "Perhaps it would be best if you did not spend too much time speaking with me—or my son— until we know whether Lord Peter's plan will work."
"Afraid of contagion, my lady?" Quinn asked sarcastically, with a sidelong glance at Tessa.
But Tessa had been watching Lady Bagstead's horses, a beautifully matched pair of chestnuts. The one on the left kept trying to throw up its head, its ears flicking backwards in evident irritation, rolling its eyes at every sound. The other, virtually identical in appearance, was calmer, but still skittish.
The temperaments of both horses seemed remarkably ill-suited for a lady's carriage.
"Have you often driven this pair together, my lady?" Tessa asked, interrupting Lady Bagstead's rambling explanation of how proximity to Tessa could damage her standing in Society.
She blinked. "Why, no. I just purchased them this week past. Are they not a handsome pair?" she asked with a sidelong glance at Tessa's unattractive mount.
"A groom drove here," she replied, and Tessa noticed a man in Marland livery hovering just outside the gates. "Then I took the ribbons, as I always do in the Park. It's quite fashionable, you know. But then, I suppose you wouldn't know."
Tessa sent a questioning glance at the groom, who was looking rather worried, but he only shook his head and shrugged. "Forgive me, my lady, but I can't help thinking this pair may be rather difficult to handle, particularly for a lady. Consider William—"
"Lord Northing," Lady Bagstead snapped. "I wish him to grow accustomed to his title and position as heir. And how dare you attempt to advise me on any matter whatsoever?"
Though her cheeks burned at the rebuke, Tessa felt conscience bound to make one more effort. "I was thinking only of your son's safety, my lady —and your own. If the horses should—"
"And now you criticize my driving, as well?" the Marchioness huffed, glancing about again. The Park was growing quite crowded, and several people were now watching them with interest. "Good day, Lady Anthony."
With a flick of her fashionable whip, she set the pair into a brisk trot, heedless of the way the phaeton swayed when one started off more quickly than the other. Tessa frowned after them.
"Foolish woman," she muttered. "But perhaps I should have—"
"You did try, Tessa," Quinn assured her. "I don't know what else you could have —Oh! Oh, look!"
Tessa turned back to watch with horror. As the phaeton neared the Serpentine, a pair of swans took flight only a few yards away. The chestnut on the left shied violently and tried to rear, causing its mate to pull in the opposite direction. The phaeton, a precarious enough vehicle under the best of circumstances, lurched and swayed.
"Hurry, Tessa," Quinn exclaimed. "Perhaps you can—"
The rest of her sentence was lost, as Tessa was already kicking her mount into a canter. Before she could reach the phaeton, however, Lady Bagstead foolishly brought her whip into play and with that extra goad the pair bolted.
With an unladylike curse, Tessa urged the rangy skewbald into a full gallop. Surely the Park rules did not apply in an emergency? People and horses were leaping out of the way of the careening phaeton as it sped along the path, first on one wheel and then the other. It could only be a matter of moments before it went over.
"Come on, fellow, we can do it," Tessa called to her horse, and he increased his speed until he fairly flew down the path, closing the gap with the runaway phaeton. She guided him alongside it, so that she could draw level with the panicked horse on the left. "Closer, closer," she chanted, both to herself and to her mount.
Responding to reins and the angle of her body, the skewbald drew within a foot or two of the chestnut. Wishing desperately that she were riding astride, Tessa leaned as far as the sidesaddle would allow and managed to get a hand on the chestnut's bridle. It tried to jerk away, but she held on grimly while her mount obediently matched speed.
"Calm down, calm down, it's all right," she called to the chestnut, putting every bit of her soothing lilt into her voice, despite her own fear. If only she could get a hand on the horse—
Though the phaeton still rocked wildly from side to side, the chestnuts slowed to a canter.
"That's better, that's better, you're doing fine," Tessa sang out, above the thundering of all three sets of hooves. With an extra stretch that nearly unseated her, she managed to touch the chestnut's jaw and stroked with quick fingers. "Slow down, now, slow down," she chanted.
The wild look left the chestnut's eyes and he slowed to a trot, his partner matching his pace. The phaeton steadied back on both wheels, swaying only slightly now. Though the main danger was past, Tessa did not take her hand away or stop cooing to the horses until they came to a complete stop.
Only then did she realize that she had come more than halfway out of her own saddle and was hanging off of the skewbald at a precarious angle. Still, she waited until someone —some gentleman on a black horse —took control of the chestnuts before attempting to right herself.
"Steady, boy," she murmured to the skewbald as she awkwardly heaved herself back into position on the sidesaddle. "You may be ugly, but you're a noble fellow," she told the horse, gratefully patting his neck.
Heaving a sigh of relief, she began to straighten her hat, which had slipped over one eye, when the sound of cheering made her look around. A large crowd had come up to surround them and they were all smiling and applauding. Startled, she looked toward the phaeton. Lady Bagstead was clutching William to her, sobbing hysterically. The man holding the chestnuts' heads shrugged slightly, then relinquished the reins to her ladyship's groom, who came panting up just then.
"Three cheers for the heroine!" the man called out to the crowd. Immediately, they took up the cheer, much to Tessa's embarrassment. At least they didn't know her name.
Quinn came up beside her, her face still pale with her recent fright. "Three cheers for Lady Anthony!" she cried.
"Lady Anthony," roared the crowd. "Hurrah for Lady Anthony! Hip, hip, hurrah!"
Tessa's face was burning now, and she scarcely knew which way to turn. Then, behind her, she heard little William take up the cheer. Another surge of relief washed over her that she had stopped the phaeton in time. Glancing back to smile at the boy, she saw Lady Bagstead wiping her eyes.
With a shuddering sigh, the plump Marchioness gave Tessa a shaky smile. "Hip, hip, hurrah," she said with the crowd.
* * *
CHAPTER 21
The news reached Marland House even before Tessa, Quinn and Lady Bagstead returned from the Park. A breathless footman, completely heedless of protocol, burst into the library, where Anthony and his brothers were all closeted with the Duke, taking the opportunity to discuss various family and estate business.
"Beggin' your pardon, Your Grace, but I thought you'd want to hear right away," the footman panted to their astonished faces. "I was runnin' an errand over by Park Lane and heard the hubbub at Grosvenor Gate. It'll be all over London in an hour, I'm thinking."
"What will? Out with it, man," commanded the Duke.
"Why, how Lady Anthony saved Lady Bagstead's life, Your Grace —and little Lord Northing's, as well. Stopped a runaway carriage single-handedly, the way I heard it. But no doubt they'll all be home soon and you can hear the story direct."
Even as he spoke, Anthony heard a commotion in the hall. He leaped up and hurried out of the library, his brothers and father on his heels, all dignity forgotten.
"Tessa! Are you all right?" he exclaimed as his very disheveled wife entered on Quinn's arm.
She looked up at him rather dazedly, but Quinn was grinning. "All right? Lord Anthony, your wife is the bravest woman —nay, the bravest person —I've ever seen!"
Before he could do more than stare confusedly, Robert pushed past him. "Never mind that. Where is Augusta? And William? Is William safe?"
"What is going on?" demanded the Duchess, descending the staircase just then to add to the confusion in the hall. "Why on earth is everyone shouting? This is most—"
"Augusta!" Robert exclaimed, interrupting his mother as his wife came in, supported by a groom. He hugged his wife and then his son, in the most indecorous —and human —show of affection Anthony had ever witnessed in his eldest brother. "Are you all right? Are you both all right?"
Lady Bagstead nodded, the evidence of recent tears on her strained face. "Yes, yes, we are both safe . . . thanks to Lady Anthony. Oh, Robert, I was so frightened." She threw herself back into her husband's arms.
"It was terribly exciting, Father," little William piped up. "The horses ran away with us and we were bouncing all over the place and Mother was screaming like anything! Then Lady Anthony rode up on her big spotted horse and just grabbed the reins and the horses calmed down —like magic! All of the people cheered and cheered. And then we came home."
Everyone turned to regard Tessa,
who still stood rather awkwardly in the doorway. "I, er, could think of nothing else to do," she stammered, blushing deeply. "I know it was terribly unladylike of me, but—"
The Duke came forward to take her hands in both of his and she stopped, gazing up at him fearfully.
"It seems we owe you a great debt of gratitude, my dear," he said in the kindest tone Anthony had ever heard him use. "Had you not been so quick-witted —and so skilled— Augusta and my grandson could easily have been killed. I, for one, am exceedingly glad that you were there . . . and that you are a member of this family."
Robert nodded. "As am I."
"And I," echoed the Duchess and Lady Bagstead, both smiling at Tessa for the first time since Anthony had brought her to London.
Anthony moved to put an arm around Tessa's shoulders, pulling her against his side. She was trembling. "I can't say I'm surprised, but I'm very, very proud. Thank you, Tessa," he said.
Then, to the others, "If you don't mind, I'd like to take my wife up to her chamber. I imagine Robert would like to do the same with his wife. Both ladies have had a rather . . . full morning."
Everyone chuckled at this understatement, their laughter a release of tension.
"An excellent proposal," said the Duke, while the Duchess gave directions for hot baths to be prepared. "Lady Marcus, suppose you give us a complete account while our heroine and poor Lady Bagstead freshen and compose themselves. And then, my dear," he said to the Duchess, "I suggest you see how quickly you can throw together a ball. I should say this event calls for a celebration."
It was truly remarkable what money, power and determination could achieve, Tessa thought, gazing about at the glittering ballroom of Marland House the next evening. In only four-and-twenty hours, extra servants had been hired, all manner of delicacies prepared, and the cream of Society assembled for the Duchess of Marland's impromptu ball.
After her bath yesterday afternoon, Anthony had insisted upon treating Tessa almost like an invalid, bringing her tea and dainties in bed and regaling her with every amusing story he could bring to mind. When she had insisted that she felt fine, he had only smiled and shaken his head.
