Tessa's Touch (21 page)

"I, ah—" she began, only to be
interrupted by the entrance of Uncle Mercer, with Harold close behind.

"Sir George, a matter of some concern has
just come to my attention," he said, with a sidelong look at Tessa.

"I'm afraid I can't discuss estate matters
right now, Mercer," her father replied impatiently. "Tessa and I have
something rather important to deal with."

Uncle Mercer nodded. "Yes, I saw Mrs. Hilltop
leaving just now. I presume you have discovered, as I have, that they were not
at home on Friday, when your daughter claims to have dined there. I believe my
son has something to say that will clarify things."

Tessa and Sir George both turned toward Harold
in surprise as his father nudged him forward. The younger man nodded with
apparent reluctance, but Tessa caught a triumphant gleam in his eye. She bit
back an unladylike curse, certain that Harold was about to make things even
worse. But how much worse, she hadn't even imagined.

Standing in front of Sir George and hanging his
head, Harold said, "I must beg your forgiveness, Sir George, particularly
after your kindness to me." His words had a rehearsed quality. "The
truth is, Tessa spent Friday night with me."

"With you!" Sir George exclaimed, as
startled as Tessa was. "But where—how—?"

Harold glanced at Tessa with a sheepish smile.
"I know it was wrong of us, but we've grown quite fond of each other and
Friday night, well, our passions got the better of us."

Tessa stared, openmouthed, at her cousin. What
on earth was he saying —and why?

"I'm prepared to do the right thing, of
course," Harold continued. "With your permission, Sir George, I am
willing to make Tessa my wife —at once."

* *
*

CHAPTER 14

Tessa gasped. "Papa, it's not true!"
she exclaimed as soon as she could speak. "You must know I would
never—"

"Unfortunately, they were seen,"
Uncle Mercer broke in. "She rode out with Harold Friday night, and
returned with him Saturday morning, bold as you please."

"With Harold?" Tessa echoed.
"You know perfectly well—" But then she stopped. To mention Lord
Anthony would be tantamount to admitting she'd spent the night with him,
instead. "—that nothing improper happened," she finished lamely.

Her father looked up at her, his eyes shadowed
and sad, which nearly broke her heart. "I'm sorry, Tessa. Even if that is
true —yes, yes, of course I believe you—it matters not a whit. Word is bound to
get around, if you were seen. The only solution is the one Harold has so
generously offered."

"Generously!" she spat, glaring at
her cousin. "Papa, do you not see—"

"Generously," Sir George repeated
heavily. "Particularly if, as you say, nothing truly improper occurred. I
admit I had rather hoped— But that is neither here nor there. I will send to
the bishop and make arrangements for a license. If all goes smoothly, you
should be able to wed sometime next week."

Tessa stared, first at her father, then at
Harold and Uncle Mercer, who both looked insufferably smug. No doubt they'd
begun planning this right after Uncle Mercer spoke with Mr. Hilltop last night.
Her choices now were to marry Harold or to drag Lord Anthony's name through the
dirt so that she could marry him instead. Or to run away, abandoning her father
to her scheming uncle and cousin.

Bursting into tears of frustration and anger,
she fled the room and ran up the stairs to her own chamber to rail against the
unfairness of it all to her unsympathetic pillow.

* *
*

Anthony reined Cinder to a stop in front of
Wheatstone the next morning, gazing up at the solid main block of golden stone
with new appreciation. Yes, he would be more than willing to live here, if
that's what it would take to make Tessa happy.

Perhaps Rush or Killer would be interested in
renting Ivy Lodge —which would also provide Anthony with enough income to make
him independent of his father.

"The phaeton will be here in a
moment," Thor said, stopping next to him on his big smoky black.
"Shall we get Sir George ready before they arrive, do you think?"

"Yes, let's go ahead and knock,"
Anthony said, dismounting.

When he'd first considered offering to live at
Wheatstone, his pride had rebelled, particularly since he had relatively little
to offer of his own. Ivy Lodge was his only real asset, for as third son he was
unlikely to inherit an estate from his father. His army stipend and his
allowance —which his father might well cut off if he married Tessa— would
scarcely support her in the sort of style she deserved.

Would Tessa be foolish to marry him? As long as
he had enough income to be independent, he'd never worried much about the
future, as he'd never intended to wed. But now . . .

No, she cared for him, he was certain. And he
loved her to distraction. He could live here, help to make the estate
profitable again and so earn his keep —and in time become a man she could be
proud of.

Not that they necessarily
had
to live here.

On a hunch, he had spoken with the surgeon when
he'd come to check on Killer's progress last night. The man had treated Sir
George after his accident six years prior, and upon questioning said he knew
nothing of any heart condition. He did, however, volunteer that Sir George's
current physician was widely considered a fraud, and that he'd once boasted
that Mercer Emery paid him well to preserve the fiction of Sir George's weak
heart for Miss Seaton's benefit.

The front door opened, and Anthony stepped
forward, eager to see her again. At the first opportunity, perhaps even during
the ride to Belvoir, if he could draw her away from the others, he would
present her with his plan, and the good news about her father. He smiled,
imagining her delight —and acceptance.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Sir George
greeted them when they reached the parlor. Tessa was not present, to Anthony's
disappointment.

"Lady Killerby should be here with her
phaeton in a moment," Anthony said, thinking Sir George looked a trifle
more tired than usual. "Shall we take you downstairs to wait?"

The older man nodded. "Very well." He
definitely didn't seem to be in spirits today.

Anthony wondered whether he had dismissed
Tessa's concerns for her father's health too lightly, even if his heart was not
the problem. Frowning, he lifted the back of the Merlin's chair while Thor took
the front. They all reached the front step just as Lady Killerby's phaeton came
wheeling up the drive, flanked by Rush and Stormy on horseback. Tessa was still
nowhere in sight.

"You are quite the early bird I see, Sir
George," Lady Killerby called out as her driver pulled the phaeton to a
halt. "I believe I will choose to be flattered —though in truth you are
probably just anxious to witness the hunt again."

Sir George murmured something complimentary,
but looked rather embarrassed as Anthony and Thor carried him into the phaeton
and settled him. Lady Killerby must have perceived it, for she at once began
chattering about the beautiful day they were likely to have, and to relate her
plans for an impromptu tea party at Ivy Lodge after the day's run ended.

They were preparing to leave when Anthony could
restrain himself no longer. "Is Miss Seaton not to accompany us?" he
asked, as casually as he could.

Her father shook his head, a trace of sadness
in his eyes. "No, she has already left, with her uncle. They will meet us
at Belvoir Castle."

"I see." His hopes temporarily
dashed, Anthony strove to put on a cheerful front. Until he had Tessa secure,
it would be wisest not to advertise his feelings for her. "Let us go,
then."

Designed as it was to follow the hunt, the
phaeton was able to travel quickly along the road. Still, it was all Anthony
could do to keep from dashing on ahead so that he could see Tessa sooner. At
length, however, they came in sight of the rounded turrets and towers of the
newly-built Belvoir Castle.

Perhaps half the field was already assembled on
the front lawn, and Anthony gazed around eagerly for the flash of burgundy that
would be Tessa's habit. Ah, there she was, at the foot of the rise leading to
the imposing mock-medieval castle, atop the gelding Mercer Emery had bought
last week. Excusing himself from the others, Anthony spurred Cinder forward at
a quick trot.

Tessa looked up as he approached, but did not
smile, rather to his surprise. Then, just before he reached her, Emery moved
his brown gelding to block Anthony's path.

"I'm sorry, my lord," he said
blandly, "but I fear it is no longer appropriate for you to speak
privately with my niece. I must ask you to keep your distance from her today,
and in the future."

Anthony blinked. Had their night alone been
discovered? Why had Sir George not confronted him, then? Certainly, he was more
than eager to do the right thing. Wouldn't Tessa have told him that?

"Might I ask why?" he finally asked,
when no other explanation seemed forthcoming. Tessa's eyes were downcast, which
also seemed odd.

"I am merely looking out for my son's
interests, as he is not here to do so himself," Emery replied, increasing
Anthony's confusion. "You see, Miss Seaton is very shortly to become his
wife."

"What?" Anthony demanded, staring at
Tessa, who still refused to meet his eyes. "How—? When did this . . . this
betrothal take place?"

Mr. Emery positively smirked. "Last night.
You are welcome to speak with Sir George if you doubt my word, my lord."

"I believe I'll do that," Anthony
snapped, wheeling Cinder about to return to the phaeton.

Rush glanced at his face in surprise as he
approached, which warned him to school his expression somewhat before
confronting Sir George. Still, he could not keep all traces of outrage from his
voice as he asked, without preamble, "Is it true, sir, that your daughter
is engaged to marry Harold Emery?"

"What?" Lady Killerby exclaimed, much
as Anthony had just done. "Surely not."

But Sir George nodded, the corners of his mouth
drooping. "Yes, it is quite true," he said with surprising firmness.
"Tessa and her cousin have always been fond of each other, so I saw no
reason to withhold my consent."

"Fond—!" Anthony remembered the scene
he had interrupted after dinner at Wheatstone last week. There had been strong
emotion between Tessa and Harold Emery certainly, but he would swear it had not
been fondness.

"I . . . I see," he finally managed
to say. "Then I suppose I must offer my congratulations to both of
them."

But Lady Killerby was still frowning.
"Congratulations. Hmph. Really, George, you cannot have thought this
through. Your daughter is quite lovely, not to mention talented and
intelligent. She can aspire—"

"Nevertheless, it is done," Sir
George interrupted her sharply. "I won't go back on my word."

It was clear he did not wish to discuss it
further, so Anthony executed a curt bow from the saddle and retreated. Rush
followed him.

"Now there's a stunner," Rush said as
soon as they were out of earshot. "I could have sworn she only had eyes
for you. How are you holding up, old man?"

Anthony shot him an angry glance. "Was my
partiality so obvious, then? Not that it matters now, I suppose, except to add
to my humiliation."

But Rush shook his head. "Nothing for you
to be embarrassed about, old chap. But did you notice something odd in Sir
George's manner just now? If he's happy about this match, then I'm a
codfish."

"Yes, I thought the same," Anthony
said, a glimmer of hope reviving in his breast. "Nor did Tessa look happy
when I tried to speak with her. Her uncle warned me off before I could say a
word to her, however."

"Or before she could say a word to
you." Rush looked across the field to where Tessa still waited by Mercer
Emery. "If you ask me, there's something deuced havey-cavey about this
sudden betrothal."

"Do you know, I believe you may be
right." Making a swift decision, Anthony quickly told his friend about the
innocent but damning night he'd spent with Tessa, his certainty that she cared
for him, and finally that he had made an offer to her only yesterday.

"I can't help but think that somehow
precipitated this sudden betrothal," he finished, "for I'm convinced
the Emerys have their claws deep in Wheatstone's affairs —and income —and
aren't eager to give that up. Will you help me get to the bottom of it,
Rush?"

The earl grinned. "What are friends for?
You try and see if you can manage a few words alone with Miss Seaton, and I'll
do a bit of digging about our two Mr. Emerys and what sort of hold they might
have over Sir George."

"As always, I'm at your command,"
Anthony said with a mock salute. In truth, though, it was reassuring to have
Rush take charge as he had during the war. And he was more than willing to
carry out his assignment.

One way or another, he'd get Tessa to admit the
truth about this preposterous betrothal —and about her feelings for him.

* *
*

Tessa watched Anthony turn and ride away, her
heart dying within her. She should have said something —something! —to him,
despite her uncle's command that she stay silent. He had looked so stunned.
Much as she'd felt last night when her father had accepted Harold's lie.

What, though, could she have said? She could
scarcely have denied the betrothal, since her father had insisted upon it.

And that was something she still did not
understand. This morning she had told Sir George that she had not so much as
seen Harold Friday night, that she'd spent the night with an injured horse,
alone, but he had merely shaken his head.

"It doesn't matter now, Tessa," he'd
said. "I've given Mercer and Harold my word."

"And that matters more than my future? My
happiness?" she had demanded.

Her father had looked at her sadly. "It is
your future I am thinking of, my dear. Trust me in this."

"But Harold lied to you to coerce this
promise," she had protested. Still, incredibly, her father would not
relent. It almost seemed as though he was afraid of what Uncle Mercer or Harold
might do if he changed his mind. She simply didn't understand it.

Helplessly, she watched as Anthony approached
her father, saw Lady Killerby's surprise, then her father's confirmation of the
terrible truth. The sag of Anthony's shoulders as he turned away nearly undid
her. What was the worst that could happen if she told the truth —the whole
truth? Perhaps there was still a chance that she could be happy, be Anthony's
wife, as he'd proposed.

Uncle Mercer, also watching the exchange,
chuckled, infuriating her.

"I always knew you put your own interests
ahead of mine or Papa's," she exclaimed, "but I never thought you
would take actual pleasure in the unhappiness of another."