Tessa's Touch (35 page)

Sir George smiled, though his eyes were still
shadowed. "I hope— That is, you are right, of course."

For a moment, Tessa bit her lip, debating, but
then decided that she was done keeping secrets from her father. "Papa,"
she said gently, "I know what is worrying you. Anthony told me the truth
about my birth."

"What? But he promised me—"

"It wasn't his fault," she said
quickly. "Harold said something to me on my wedding day, and then I
insisted Anthony tell me the whole."

Her father covered his eyes with his hand.
"I'm so sorry you had to learn of it, Tessa. What must you think of me,
after all of my strictures about propriety?"

She laid a hand on his arm. "I think you
were young, very much in love —and very human, Papa. And it all came right in
the end. I'm only sorry that Uncle Mercer was able to use it against you,
against us, all these years."

He clasped her hand in both of his own.
"You're the best daughter anyone could have, Tessa. I've never been able
to truly regret what happened, because it resulted in you."

"Oh, Papa." She pressed her cheek
against his with a happy sigh, then heard a stir downstairs. "It sounds as
though Anthony has brought his friends back with him. I'll go speak with
Cook."

* *
*

Dinner was a festive, informal affair. Anthony
took great delight in embarrassing Tessa by telling his friends of her heroism
in London. They seemed suitably impressed, and Sir George commented that he was
glad to hear the details that Tessa had modestly omitted from her own account.

"The Duke of Wellington himself," he
said more than once, with a fond look at his daughter.

After the sweetmeats had been served, Tessa
rose. "If you don't mind, I'd like to visit the stables while you
gentlemen continue your discussion."

Anthony grinned across at her. "Before we
elevate you to sainthood? Very well, my dear, go on. We'll no doubt be in the
parlor when you return."

With a self-conscious smile at the others, she
went to get her cloak. Anthony turned back to his friends as soon as she was
gone. "You said you had some news for me and Sir George?"

"Indeed we do," said Rush. "It
concerns our friend, Mercer Emery. I thought you both might like to hear how we
solved that little problem."

Anthony glanced at Sir George, who looked as
surprised as he himself felt. "We are all ears."

"Well, after the conversation the, ah, day
of your betrothal, and then after watching his behavior on your wedding day, I
realized he still posed a potential threat."

"That he might spread word about Tessa's
birth, you mean?" Sir George said, frowning.

Rush nodded. "He was still hanging about
Melton. Not hunting, precisely —he's an abysmal horseman, after all—but gaming
and trying to insinuate himself into the better circles in the evenings. That
was my inspiration."

Thor and Stormy chuckled, and Anthony looked
from one to the other curiously, then back to Rush. "Inspiration for
what?"

"Choosing my moment and my witnesses
carefully, a few nights ago at one of the aprés-hunt gatherings, I, ah, made a
disparaging remark about his late sister."

"What?" exclaimed Sir George.

"
You
did?" Anthony echoed disbelievingly. "But—"

"Mr. Mercer has become quite jealous of
his reputation as a would-be gentleman," Rush continued. "Given the
company and the preceding conversation, he had no choice but to challenge me
over my rather . . . rude remark."

Anthony began to understand, though Sir George
was still frowning. "After defending his sister's honor, he could scarcely
besmirch it himself," Anthony explained to his father-in-law.

Sir George's brow cleared. "How clever of
you, my lord. But what of the challenge? You did not kill him?"

Stormy snorted derisively as Rush shook his
head. "I intended to miss, after scaring him badly —to shoot into the air,
in fact, by way of admitting my error —but I overestimated his courage."

"The bounder never showed," Stormy
put in. "Hasn't been seen since, in fact. As far as we know, he's left the
area for good."

"And what of his son?" Anthony asked.
"Is he gone as well?" He looked forward to telling Tessa she need
never worry about her uncle or cousin again.

But Sir George was shaking his head. "I
suspect not. Only yesterday, one the servants said something about seeing
Harold near the stables."

"Did you not find out what he
wanted?" Anthony asked in surprise.

"I assumed he had merely stopped by to
retrieve something he had forgotten."

"Let's hope that was it," Rush said,
"though I'm afraid I wouldn't put it past the young rascal to make off
with one of the horses, out of simple spite."

But it wasn't the horses Anthony was thinking
about. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen?" he said, heading for the
door.

* *
*

"I missed you, too, Cinnamon," Tessa
murmured as she stroked the roan mare's soft nose. "But now I'm back to
stay, and tomorrow we'll ride together again —in the hunt. I believe Papa will
let me spend more time with you and the other horses from now on, as well.
Won't that be nice?"

The horse whickered enthusiastically, just as
though she understood Tessa's words.

"A nice little plan," came a voice
from behind her. "Shame it won't work out quite that way."

Whirling in alarm, she saw her cousin leaning
against the doorway of the stables. No one else was in sight.

"Harold? What are you doing here?"
she demanded. "Where—?"

Grinning unpleasantly in the dim light of a
single hanging lantern, he heaved himself away from the door frame and
sauntered toward her. "All the stable hands are abed by now— and like to
sleep soundly, after the bottles I gave them."

Tessa kept one hand on Cinnamon's neck.
"Why would you do that?" He couldn't have known she'd be home
tonight.

"I'd thought to take that mare off your
little lordship's hands before you returned. Figured he'd have a time
explaining that to you, not to mention that I could sell her for a fair price
up North. But now I can take something he'll miss a sight more."

"You're mad," she exclaimed.
"You can't seriously think you could kidnap me? You'll never even get me
out of the stables."

His grin twisted into something far uglier.
"Probably not. But then, I won't have to—and I'll still have the
mare." He pulled a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at her.

"Father bought this for his meeting with
Rushford, but then he got cold feet after hearing tales of the fellow's
military exploits. He left for the North two days ago— but lucky for me, he
didn't take this."

"Harold, think what you're doing,"
Tessa said as persuasively as she could, using the voice she used on difficult
horses, her eyes riveted on the pistol. "If you leave now, you'll have
done nothing illegal. You can begin a new life in the North, or wherever you
wish to go."

"Don't try your sorcery on me," he
growled. "Why should you and your lordling have it all your own way while
I have to start over with nothing? Wheatstone was to be mine— Father promised
me. He convinced me to put up with all your jibes and airs, your oh-so-superior
ways. You don't know how many times I wanted to put you in your place,
Tessa."

She swallowed, her fear growing. Harold had
always been a bully, but she'd never known he resented her so badly. Now, it
seemed, he was completely mad. "Please, Harold," she whispered.

"No. If I can't have Wheatstone, then
neither will you—or your arrogant lordling." He raised the pistol higher.

"Perhaps the arrogant lordling will have
something to say about that," came Anthony's voice from behind him.

With a curse, Harold swung around, but before
he could aim the pistol at this new threat, Tessa flung open Cinnamon's stall.
Together, she and the mare charged. Harold looked back, his eyes widening just
before Cinnamon struck him with both front hooves. The pistol fired and Tessa
screamed.

Terrified by the noise, all of the horses
screamed as well, some of them kicking at their stalls. Cinnamon reared and
backed away. Harold, shaken but still clutching the pistol, struggled to his
knees, but before he could rise, Anthony knocked him back to the ground with a
well-placed fist to his jaw.

"Are you all right?" he shouted to
Tessa.

Numbly, she nodded. The pistol ball was
embedded in the door of Cinnamon's stall, having passed only inches from her
head. Gathering her courage and her breath, she called aloud to the panicked
horses.

"Calm down, calm down, all of you. It's
over. It's over. It's over." As she chanted, the kicking and whinnying
stopped, and in a few moments the stables were quiet once again.

Tessa looked down at her cousin, groaning
groggily from his position spread-eagle on the stable floor. "He—he was
going to kill me," she said, her voice breaking. "He would have, if
you had not come, Anthony."

With two quick steps, Anthony reached her and
gathered her into his arms. "But I did, thank God! It's over, Tessa.
You're safe. Now, suppose you go to the house and get the others while I keep
watch over this vermin." He released her with obvious reluctance.
"Then we'll send someone for the magistrate and see what's to be done with
him."

Harold only groaned again.

* *
*

Anthony watched Tessa flying over the fields on
Cinnamon's back with a profound sense of gratitude. How close he had come last
night to never seeing this sight again, never holding her in his arms again!
Not until he'd come so close to losing her had he realized just how deeply he
loved her—her spirit, her selflessness, the way she shared his passion for
riding like this . . . everything about her.

They had not gone to bed until well after
midnight, for it had taken some time to get through the business with the
magistrate. Now, though, all was settled. Harold Emery had agreed to leave the
country and word had been sent to his father, to give him the option of joining
his son. The Emerys would never bother Tessa again.

"Reynard is giving us a good run,
eh?" he shouted across to Tessa as they cleared a hedge together at the
front of the field.

"A wonderful run," she called back,
her cheeks and eyes bright from the chilly breeze and her joyful exercise.
"I hope he escapes as his reward."

As it happened, the fox did escape, but not
until he'd run the hounds till well past one o'clock. Riding back, everyone
agreed that it had been the best run of the season. The weather was bright and
fair, and horses, hounds and sportsmen —and woman —were all tired but happy.

Back at Wheatstone a short time later, Tessa
watched her father and Lady Killerby laughing together as they talked about the
hunt, which they'd again followed in Lady Killerby's phaeton. Her father looked
happier than she'd ever seen him —so why were her feelings so conflicted?

"Come upstairs with me?" Anthony
suggested softly in her ear, snapping her out of her bemusement.

"What? Oh, ah, all right. Papa, if you'll
excuse us?"

Her father nodded absently, his eyes still on
Lady Killerby.

"I hope you don't begrudge your father a
bit of companionship," Anthony said as they reached the upper landing.
"I confess I suspected once or twice that things were tending that way,
and I'm delighted to see I was right."

Tessa paused, realizing that Anthony was right
—she
was
bothered that her
father so obviously enjoyed Lady Killerby's company. And perhaps even more
bothered that he clearly didn't need her, Tessa, nearly as much as she'd always
believed.

Anthony opened the door to the chamber
adjoining her own, which had previously been used for storage. Mrs. Bealls had
worked a miracle over the past week, doubtless with the help of some of the
staff from Ivy Lodge. Most of Anthony's furniture had been moved here, to
include the hunting scene Tessa had admired. Anthony had said last night that
he felt completely at home here.

"You're right," Tessa finally said.
"How can I begrudge Papa any kind of happiness when I have found so much
myself? It will just . . . take a bit of getting used to, I suppose."

He took her hand and drew her into the room.
"Changes always do, but that does not mean change is a bad thing. Some
changes are very much for the better."

"Do you really think so, Anthony?"
she asked, looking up at him anxiously. "I have all but turned your life
upside down, made you miss part of the hunting season, and now you have even left
the home you had made in the Shires —all for my sake."

He folded her in his arms. "Perhaps it
began for your sake, but I am finding the benefits to myself are too many to
count. Here, I can finally accomplish something worthwhile by helping you and
your father rebuild Wheatstone into what it once was."