Tessa's Touch (33 page)

"Charming," murmured Lady Jersey,
after Tessa responded to her greeting. Other influential ladies and gentlemen
also expressed their approval and admiration, complimenting Anthony on his good
fortune in acquiring such a wife.

"You see?" he whispered. "You
are a success."

The orchestra began tuning its instruments in
preparation for the first dance, so he led her toward the center of the floor.
"The first will be a minuet," he told her, probably unnecessarily.
"You did beautifully with that one when we practiced."

She nodded, looking only slightly nervous, as
they took their places in one of the lines forming.

Suddenly they were accosted by a voice he'd
hoped not to hear tonight. "Ah, Lady Anthony," exclaimed Lady
Adelaide, coming up just then with another lady who looked vaguely familiar,
both of them trailed by the gentlemen partnering them in the opening dance.
"I wanted you to meet a friend of mine, Miss Porrington."

Anthony bit back a curse at the name even as
Tessa turned with a wary smile.

"I wished to meet you, Lady Anthony,"
Miss Porrington said, "for my brother mentioned a Miss Seaton in his
letters. That was your name until your marriage, was it not?"

"It was," Tessa replied. Anthony was
proud to see that her chin was still high.

The two ladies tittered together. "Then
everything Penelope tells me must be true." Lady Adelaide's eyes glittered
with malicious glee as she continued in a carrying voice. "That your
father's estate is in shambles and that your mother," she punctuated her
words with a delicate shudder, "was a commoner. In fact, the daughter of .
. . of a horse trainer!"

"Indeed," added Miss Porrington,
"according to my brother, you have even been in the habit of foxhunting
with the gentlemen, among those wild 'Meltonians' we hear so much about. Tell
me, Lady Anthony, what is it like to flout convention so? Or do you even know
the difference between proper and improper behavior?"

The two did not wait for a reply, but with a
high burst of laughter moved down the line to find places well away from Tessa
and Anthony. He was glad to see them go, but the damage had been done, for the
lady to Tessa's left was looking at her askance while the gentleman to
Anthony's left reached across the line to take his wife's hand and lead her to
an entirely different set.

Heads began to turn all up and down their line
and the next as the gossip about the new Lady Anthony spread through the room
like wildfire.

* *
*

CHAPTER 20

Tessa felt the color draining from her face at
the unexpected attack. If the truth caused raised eyebrows in the Shires, how
much more scandalous must it seem in the highest social circles of London? She
looked bleakly across at Anthony, who was staring after Lady Adelaide and Miss
Porrington with a face like thunder. She tried to mouth an apology as the music
began.

His eyes snapped back to her face, his
expression still hard. "Dance," he commanded her.

Confused, not sure whether he was angry with
her or only at what had just happened, Tessa automatically complied.

Luckily, the minuet had been drilled into her
when she was quite young, so that she did not have to think about her steps.
Even so, toward the end of the dance, when a turbaned matron sent her an
outraged glare, she stumbled, barely recovering her balance in time to avert a
fall. She felt sure that every eye in the room was upon her— judging her,
condemning her.

The dance ended, and a moment later the Duchess
of Marland and Lady Bagstead descended upon her, both fairly quivering with
fury.

"What is this nonsense Lady Adelaide is
spreading?" the Duchess demanded, glaring at Tessa and then Anthony.
"I know it must be false, but she must have based it upon something."

"What story did you hear, Mother?"
Anthony asked with what Tessa thought was commendable coolness, given the
magnitude of the disaster.

The Duchess blinked at his tone. "Some
faradiddle about Lady Anthony's mother being daughter to a horse-trainer. I
assume he was a gentleman farmer or some such, but Lady Adelaide is making him
sound like the veriest commoner."

"It's true, Your Grace," Tessa forced
herself to say. The truth could scarcely be concealed, as it was common
knowledge in Leicestershire. "My maternal grandfather was employed as
horse-trainer by my paternal grandfather. He owned no lands of his own."

Both ladies gasped.

"And what of her other tale?" asked
Lady Bagstead urgently. "Surely you have not actually ridden after hounds
in a foxhunt?"

"She has indeed," Anthony said before
Tessa could answer. "And extremely well, I might add. I don't see
why—"

"Quiet, Anthony," snapped the
Duchess. "Of course you wouldn't see, as seldom as you are in Town, but I
assure you that such behavior is the stuff of scandal here, however lax things
may be in the country." Lady Bagstead nodded vigorously.

"The next set is forming," the
Duchess said. "We must try to brazen it out for the remainder of the
evening, and then we will determine what is to be done. I am most disappointed
in you, Anthony —in both of you. See you do not disgrace us further
tonight." With that, she turned on her heel, Lady Bagstead in tow.

Tessa swallowed hard, feeling tears prickling
beneath her eyelids. "Anthony, I—" she began, but he shook his head.

"It's not your fault, Tessa. I should have
known, should have warned you, should have . . . I'm sorry." He looked
both angry and unhappy, and there was no doubt that she was the cause, whatever
he said. "Come, we must do as Mother said and dance, pretending nothing is
wrong. It's the only possible response."

Taking her by the hand, he led her into the
country dance just beginning, resolutely ignoring the curious or outraged
stares they received. Tessa followed his lead, keeping her expression carefully
blank, though inside her heart was breaking —not for herself, but for the
agonies Anthony must be enduring.

This was not her world, she reminded herself as
she concentrated on her steps, determined not to stumble again. It had never
been her world, and in a few days they would be back in the country. Surely,
after this, Anthony would agree that they must never come to London again? That
would be one positive, amid so many negatives.

Or, came the chilling thought, perhaps Anthony
would simply resolve not to bring
her
to London again, when he came here himself. It would be a
reasonable compromise, she realized bleakly.

The next dance was more complicated, requiring
all of her attention as she moved down the line from gentleman to lady and back
to gentleman. Some of them seemed vaguely sympathetic, nodding politely as they
turned about her, but others— mainly ladies— refused even to link arms with her
when the dance demanded it, instead keeping their distance as they simulated
the motions.

A waltz allowed Tessa a brief respite from
censure, as she need not face anyone but Anthony. The strain of the evening was
evident on his face, however.

"Perhaps we should leave early,"
Tessa suggested, too miserable to thrill at his touch, as she had during their
practice session yesterday.

"We can't," he replied, his voice
expressionless. "The Prince Regent has arrived, which means no one can
leave until he does."

Tessa glanced about, excited in spite of herself
at being in the same room with the Regent. "Oh, I . . . I did not know.
Which one is he?"

Anthony motioned to the right with his head.
"The heavyset gentleman in the regimentals."

She followed his glance and regarded the portly
monarch with awe. That she, Tessa, simple country girl, should be in the same
room with royalty, seemed impossible. No wonder everyone here was offended by
her presence. She truly didn't belong.

She opened her mouth to apologize again to
Anthony, but stopped herself, knowing he would brush it aside again, that her
apologies only made him feel worse. But what more could she do?

When they adjourned to the supper tables, it
became evident that the rest of the family had been discussing that very
question. Quinn, Sarah, and their husbands all greeted her warmly, but the
other four faces were grave.

"I can't imagine what you were thinking,
Anthony," Lord Bagstead began as they reached the group. "At the very
least, you could have warned us, so that we could have prepared some sort of
defense."

Anthony glared at his brother. "Do you
mean to say that Father didn't already know everything there was to know about
Tessa's background? I'm stunned." He looked at the Duke, as did everyone
else.

"I knew about her parentage," the
Duke conceded, in no way apologetic, "though I did not expect it to become
common knowledge in so explosive a manner. I had not had time to discover the
financial status of Wheatstone or that your wife had done something so unwise
as join the hunting field —as you no doubt intended, by waiting until the last
possible moment to inform me of your marriage."

Tessa glanced at Anthony, who merely shrugged,
his jaw clenched.

"And now I learn that Lady Anthony was
apparently betrothed to her cousin mere days before you married her," the
Duke continued, "which also smacks some sort of irregularity."

Lady Bagstead clicked her tongue and turned
scandalized eyes on Tessa again, as though expecting her to do something
outrageous on the spot. "So what are we to do, Your Grace?"

"I will take Tessa back to the country
tomorrow," Anthony said with sudden decision. "I won't have her
subjected to any more insult— particularly not from my own family."

"Yes, I think that would be best,"
the Duchess agreed. "Give this thing a chance to blow over. By Spring, or
perhaps the Season after that, people will have moved on to other gossip."

Tessa's embarrassment and guilt over the grief
she'd brought to her husband was assuaged for a moment by a surge of relief at
this plan, but then Lord Peter shook his head.

"No, that's the last thing you can
do," he said firmly.

Lord Bagstead frowned. "But—"

"Don't you see?" Lord Peter
continued. "To run away is to admit that the gossips are right and we are
wrong —that we are ashamed of Tessa's background. Are we not Northrups?
We
should set the standards, not allow others to
dictate their standards to us."

The Duke nodded slowly. "There is
something in what you say. I could wish these facts had not surfaced in such a
setting, but now they are out, we cannot allow certain people to use them as
ammunition. The political situation—"

"Exactly," Lord Peter said, looking
to the others for agreement.

Sarah spoke up in support of her husband.
"My lineage is little better than Tessa's, after all."

"And I'm an American," Quinn put in.
"Yet I am accepted."

Anthony still looked stubborn. "I won't
have Tessa hurt by any more snubs. It is my responsibility as her husband to
protect her, and I mean to do just that." He took her hand in a firm grip
that felt more determined than affectionate.

"Nevertheless, I believe Peter is
right," the Duke said, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Anthony
and his wife will stay —at Marland House —until we deem that Society has
accepted her."

Tessa's spirits fell. Such a thing could take
weeks —or months— assuming it ever happened at all. Was she never to be allowed
to return to Wheatstone, to her father? She looked pleadingly at Anthony, but
though he frowned, he said nothing.

"The Regent will likely leave soon after
supper," Peter said then, "at which point we should probably make a
strategic retreat. Tomorrow is Sunday, which will give us a respite to plan how
to turn this setback into a triumph for Tessa and the family."

* *
*

"I'm sorry, Tessa. I know I promised that we
would only stay in Town a few days."

It was a few minutes past two and Anthony had
just joined Tessa in her bedchamber after her maid and his valet had completed
their tasks of divesting them of their evening attire. She had put on a brave
front during the final hour of the ball and the ride home, but Anthony
suspected that she was near a breaking point.

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?