Tessa's Touch (8 page)

Alas, the first covert was dry, so the whole
field had to follow the huntsman for a mile and more at no more than a trot to
the next covert. While waiting there for the hounds to sniff out a fox, Lord
Anthony moved within a few paces of Tessa, though he did not attempt to engage
her in conversation.

After struggling with her conscience for a
minute or two, she finally nudged Cinnamon his way and cleared her throat.
"I, ah, wish to apologize for my outburst earlier," she said, softly
enough that no one else could hear her.

Turning, he held her eyes for a long moment,
causing an alarming flutter to commence in her midsection. "And I, for
what I now realize was a foolish allegation. Perhaps—" he began, but just
then the hounds gave tongue that they'd scented a fox.

* *
*

CHAPTER 5

With a stab of disappointment he'd never before
felt at the start of a hunt, Anthony turned away from what had promised to be a
most interesting conversation to watch the progress of the hounds and huntsman.
No doubt he would have ample opportunity to speak with Miss Seaton at dinner
tonight, he reminded himself.

A few tense moments later, the fox broke cover,
the hounds were rounded up and set on its scent, and the field leaped into
action behind them. By the time they reached the first hedge, Miss Seaton had
already moved near the front of the field, though the mare she rode now could
not be as powerful as the gelding she'd ridden on Monday. Clearly, however,
Cinnamon was far faster than Mr. Emery's riding in the Quorn had revealed her
to be.

As before, Anthony noticed that Mercer Emery
stayed near the rear of the field, where his indifferent riding would be less
noticeable. They were heading into rougher country now, country that would pose
challenges to any who were not expert riders. Almost without thought, he worked
his way closer to Miss Seaton. Proficient she might be, but she couldn't have much
experience with this sort of riding.

The hounds wormed their way through the next
hedge, which the lead riders discovered to be a "double" —a hedge
with a ditch on the other side. Warnings were shouted back as the leaders
recovered from their inevitable falls, and the field spread out, most looking
for another way around.

Miss Seaton, however, checked only for a moment
before setting her mare's head at the hedge. Anthony could only watch, fear
rising in his throat. He had successfully jumped this barrier in the past, but—

The mare lifted, as if on wings, and sailed
over the hedge, landing lightly on the far side of the ditch and continuing on
without breaking stride. Gasps from the field were followed by cheers. Several
of those who'd begun looking for a gap or gate set their horses at the hedge
instead, unwilling to be outdone by a woman.

Anthony was the first to follow Miss Seaton.
Though Faro landed heavily, he did not lose his footing or unseat his rider.
Glancing back, he saw half a dozen others clearing the hedge, all but one of
which ended up on the ground as their mounts stumbled.

He paused to be certain no horses or riders
were injured, then urged Faro back into a canter behind Miss Seaton and her
roan mare. Drawing level with her a few moments later, he called out, "My
compliments. I could wish you hadn't given me—us— such a scare, however."

She grinned across at him, her veil flying in
the wind. "Cinnamon can jump amazing distances, farther than most horses
I've known. I see your Faro had no difficulty, either."

"We've had practice," he shouted
back, above the thundering of their horses' hooves. Though it was tempting to
take as much credit as possible in hopes of impressing her, honesty compelled
him to add, "I've been riding this country for years, and have faced that
double before. I didn't do so well my first time, I must confess."

She merely laughed —a wild, beautiful sound
—and continued across the countryside. The two of them were now leading the
field, and it was all too easy to imagine that they were alone, with the hounds
and huntsman well ahead and the rest of the field well behind.

"Where did you learn to ride like
this?" Anthony shouted after several minutes with no sound but the rushing
of the wind, the thudding of hooves and the squeaking of leather. He'd heard
Porrington's explanation, but suddenly wanted Miss Seaton's own.

Her face was tilted into the wind, but at that
she looked over at him. "Both of my parents loved horses and were
excellent riders, so encouraged me to ride from an early age. My father claims
I was riding almost before I could walk."

He found himself grinning. "My Great-uncle
Alden used to say the same about me. He's the one who sparked my interest in
hunting, when I was but a lad."

Their conversation was interrupted by a
three-rail fence, which both cleared without trouble, then came the hounds'
first check of the hunt.

"So you've been hunting since you were
young?" Miss Seaton asked before the rest of the field caught up.
"Did you ever ride in a hunt with my father —or my mother?"

Anthony blinked. "Do you know, I think I
did, though I wasn't acquainted with them at the time. I'd forgotten, as it was
years ago, well before the war. Is your mother fairer than you are?" He
dimly recalled his uncle pointing out a strikingly beautiful woman in a
wine-colored habit much like the one Miss Seaton now wore.

"She hasn't ridden in quite a long time,
has she?" he continued when she nodded. "If she is the one I
remember, I saw her only once, at one of my very first meets. I could not have
been more than fourteen years old at the time."

"She died almost ten years ago," Miss
Seaton replied, her brown eyes shadowed, "and had not ridden in the hunt
for several years before that. I believe she only hunted once or twice after I
was born, for it was becoming less and less common for ladies to do so by then.
She contented herself with riding on the estate —and with teaching me."

Anthony nodded. "I seem to remember—"

"Miss Seaton!" Stormy's voice
interrupted him. "I certainly understand now why Mr. Emery was unwilling
to sell that mare on Monday. Alas, I fear that after today, with you showing
her to such advantage, she will be beyond my means to purchase."

Sir Brian Olney sidled over on his chestnut.
"I plan to take part in the bidding for her myself," he volunteered.
"Emery does mean to offer her for sale, doesn't he?" he asked Miss
Seaton.

"Yes," she replied. "Probably
after the Cottesmore on Saturday." That would be the next gathering of the
majority of the sportsmen in Melton-Mowbray.

"Has your father owned her for long?"
Stormy asked then.

Anthony thought she hesitated before answering.
"Only a few months, though I confess I have already grown fond of
her."

"Then why—?" Sir Brian began.

Noticing the distress in Miss Seaton's
expression, Anthony cut him off. "Sadly, business often leaves little room
for sentimentality," he said. "Did any of you see Porrington after
the tumble he took on that double? He was mud from the waist down."

The others chuckled and began discussing the
advantages of knowing how to fall properly during a hunt. Anthony glanced at
Miss Seaton and found her smiling at him with what could only be gratitude for
his changing the subject. He smiled back, shaken again by the effect she had on
him.

To his relief, the hounds gave tongue again
before he was forced to analyze his feelings further. Glancing back, he saw
that Emery was still more than a furlong behind, along with one or two other
stragglers. The fellow really wasn't much of a sportsman.

Anthony couldn't help wondering if he was as
inept at managing the Seaton estate as he was at riding to hunt. Perhaps at
dinner tonight he would have an opportunity to determine that— discreetly, of
course.

It wasn't until the next check that it occurred
to him that it was neither his business nor his responsibility.

* *
*

The hunt ended only an hour after noon, when
the hounds lost the scent entirely and were unable to find it again, despite
repeated casting by the hunstman. Tessa was just as glad —not only because the
fox had escaped, but because she'd be less sore while playing hostess at
tonight's dinner.

It also meant she'd have more time to prepare.
She almost hadn't ridden today, there was so much to do at home for their first
dinner party in many years, but her father had insisted that the servants could
handle everything. Tessa wasn't so sure, but when Uncle Mercer reminded her of
how badly they needed the money from Cinnamon's sale, she had finally agreed.

As she turned her mount's head toward the road,
Lord Anthony rode over to her. "I imagine you are in a hurry to return
home, what with all of us descending upon you tonight," he said, echoing
her thoughts, "but I wanted to compliment you again on your riding today.
I hope we will see you at many more meets this season."

She smiled at him, startled to realize that she
was almost looking forward to tonight's dinner party— though not to its
probable effect on her father. "Thank you, my lord, but that will be up to
my father. I confess I quite enjoy it, so I hope that he will agree to
it."

"Perhaps we can encourage him to do so
over dinner tonight," he said with a grin, as Lord Rushford and Sir
Charles Storm approached, followed by Mr. Turpin and little Lord Killerby.

She debated cautioning him and his friends
against tiring her father tonight, but decided she would wait to see how the
evening played out. Lord Anthony seemed quite perceptive, so no doubt he would
realize that Sir George's strength was limited. If not, she would simply ask
them all to leave.

"Until tonight, then, gentlemen," she
said, nodding to each in turn. As a man, they all bowed from the saddle,
expressing their eagerness for the visit, and then she turned and rode back to
where Uncle Mercer waited on old brown Thunder.

"Mind you don't get too chummy with the
gentlemen," he cautioned her when she reached him. "Your father
wouldn't like it. Most are only on the lookout for their next mistress, you
know."

Stung by the reproach when she'd expected
praise for her riding, she responded sharply. "My father invited those
very gentlemen to dinner tonight, so I don't think it is for you to pass
judgment on my socializing with them. I've neither said nor done anything
improper."

She was not so certain she could vouch for her
thoughts, however. More than once during today's hunt, she had admired Lord
Anthony's physique as well as his riding, and even allowed her imagination to
wander along paths that were far from proper.

"No need to snap at me, missie," her
uncle said now. "I only mention it for your own good. Sir George did
charge me with your protection, remember."

Tessa had to suppress a smile at the thought of
Uncle Mercer trying to protect her from the athletic Lord Anthony —or any of
the others, for that matter. "None of the gentlemen have said or done
anything improper either," she assured him.

Not entirely to her surprise, he looked
relieved. "Glad to hear it—and your father will be, too. You rode well
today, by the way. We should get five hundred easy— perhaps even more."

Though such a sum still seemed excessive, she
nodded. "Good. We'll need it, for the workmen keep finding more that needs
repairing in the west wing."

On reaching Wheatstone, Tessa went first to the
kitchen to be certain dinner preparations had begun, then hurried upstairs to
see her father. He was in his study, as usual, a decanter of wine at his elbow
and his notes spread out upon a table before him. He appeared to be dozing.

"Papa?" she said softly, not wishing
to wake him if he was deeply asleep.

He stirred at once. "Tessa, is that you?
Back already, eh? It must have been a short run." Though he smiled, his
eyes were bleary, either from sleep or wine.

"Yes, the fox eluded the hounds, but not
before giving us a good race across the countryside. How are you feeling today?
You look tired." She settled a mantle across his shoulders, tucking it in
around the back of his chair.

"A bit tired, I suppose. I fear I didn't
sleep particularly well last night. I so want this dinner to come off well, for
your sake as well as mine."

"Pray do not worry, Papa. Everything will
be fine, I'm certain, as long as you do not overtax yourself. I won't allow the
gentlemen to stay late."

Sir George frowned. "It would be rude to
ask them to leave before they are ready, Tessa, and I won't have that. You will
be gracious, however late they stay."

"Of course, of course," she quickly
reassured him. "I will be everything that is proper, just as you would
wish."

He relaxed. "Of course you will, my dear.
I never doubted it. And now, you'd best go up and start getting yourself ready,
hadn't you? Have a bath, put on your nicest gown and have your maid do up your
hair the way I like it. They'll be here in just a few hours and, as I recall,
it takes ladies some time to dress for a special evening." He was smiling
now.

She'd had no intention of primping for Lord
Anthony —or the others —but she would not upset her father. "I'll do that.
Why don't you rest for a bit, so you will be fresh for the evening."

Dropping a kiss on his brow, she went to confer
with the housekeeper and their few other servants. Uncle Mercer had gradually
dismissed more than half the staff they'd had at the time of her father's
accident, saying that they could not afford their salaries. As a result, they
were now reduced to Mrs. Bealls, who did double duty as housekeeper and cook,
two maids, one of whom acted as Tessa's abigail when not doing housework, one
lad who filled the post of footman and general servant, and old Griffith, her
father's personal manservant, who also served as their butler when necessary.

Tessa set them all to various duties in
preparation for the evening ahead before finally heading up to her chamber to
ready herself for the coming ordeal.