Lord Suitor (12 page)

"Leave
your fan, please," Mijo said sharply. "There will be no need of flirtatious
gestures."

More's the pity. I would like to
see how she plies her fan
.

"Yes,
Maman." Tessa dropped her fan on the table and turned to Nat. "I'm ready,
my lord."

As
if they'd been friends—partners—for years, Tessa put her hand through the crook
of his arm and let him led her out of the booth and into the lamp-lit square.

"Along
here, I think." Nat turned right and into a narrower walkway, albeit one
still relatively well lit. "I won't go against your maman's diktats, yet.
Not until she show some favor for my suit."

"She
already does," Tessa argued with him as they moved farther down the ride.
Most people in this part of the gardens were still eating, and the walk was
relatively deserted. "She's pushing me in such a way I'd find it hard to
refuse if I wanted to."

"So
from that, I can infer you don't want to?"

"That
is too much information for this early in our relationship. Or pending
relationship, my lord. Let's say, I'm interested in discovering what you think
are the facets that make up a courtship."

"Oh,
believe me, I look forward to showing you."

Chapter Twelve

Tessa
was sure of it. However, Nat was definitely on his best behavior, and apart
from squeezing her hand somewhat tightly, and she thought—but she couldn't be
sure, because after all she could have walked too close to a shrub—her arse at
one point, he was the epitome of a perfect gentleman. They talked about
trivialities, about who had been at Lady Sunderland's ball the previous week,
and who was allegedly about to offer for whom. Tessa enjoyed his dry wit and
ready laugh, and when ten minutes later, they made their way back toward the
box, she was totally at ease with him. And he hadn't mentioned weddings,
marriage, or wooing once.

She
wasn't sure whether to be pleased or unhappy as they reentered the box and
waited for Mijo and Theo to accompany them to a good viewing area for the firework
spectacular. To Tessa's relief, the musicale had occurred as they ate their
supper of Vauxhall ham and other meats and fruits, and it had provided slight
background music that didn't greatly intrude on their conversation. Even the
occasional screech and odd note didn't impinge overmuch.

She
stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Nat and oohed and ahhed along with hundreds of
others as light and flares lit up the skies. However, it wasn't the firework
spectacular that occupied her mind and thoughts. It was Nat, his scent, all male
and fresh, his well-built body without an ounce of fat on it that protected her
from the crowds, and his breath on her cheek as he bent toward her ask if she
was happy. He stood closely behind her, in the same manner as Theo did to Mijo.
However, Tessa didn't think she'd best press back into Nat in the same manner
Mijo did to her husband.

More’s the pity. Is it like I dream? To be so close
to a male body?
She
sighed. Would she ever find out?
Oh, his
scent is so reminiscent of other times and other places.

"Why
the sigh?" Nat spoke softly so no one overheard. It necessitated his head
close to hers once more. So close that if she turned just a little bit, his
lips would...

Do not even think of it. Show
decorum. We're at Vauxhall, for goodness’ sake.
But wasn't Vauxhall renowned for
dalliance?

"I
was thinking." She stopped. How on earth could she tell Nat what she was
thinking? Of course she couldn't. "How romantic this all is," she
finished lamely. Well, it was partially true.

"It
could be much more so." Nat breathed the words in her ear.

It
tickled, but not for anything would Tessa say so, or scratch her ear. It was
after all, rather arousing and sent those exquisite tingles through her once
more. She'd think on the feeling later when she was alone.

"I'll
remember." It was a lame reply, but Tessa was having trouble thinking, let
alone speak coherently.

"If
you don't, I'll remind you, never fear. Now attend to the display, or when your
maman asks you if you like the outline of Prinny, you'll be able to say in all
honesty you were dumbstruck. As we all will be. Good taste it is not."

He
was correct on every count.

By
the time they'd re-crossed the river and regained Nat's carriage, Tessa's head
ached, from craning her neck to look upward, from the smell of the fireworks
and the noise of the explosions. Plus she had other aches, deep inside her, from
being in such close proximity to Nat. It was disturbing. More than once she'd
thought she scented the smell she associated with her smuggler, and it worried
her. She shouldn't hallucinate and imagine such things over someone she'd not
seen for so long, and whom she knew only briefly. Especially when she was
supposed to be considering Nat as a prospective husband.

"Tomorrow
we'll drive to Strawberry Hill," Nat said. "I've bespoken lunch at the
inn there. Weather permitting, it should be a pleasant outing."

He
made no mention of any other companions, and Tessa chose not to ask. She'd find
out on the morrow. Instead she sat back on her seat and admired his shadowed
figure in the moonlight. They passed one of the new streetlights, and for a
brief second, she saw his profile in a stark outline.

She
gasped, and he looked toward her, and the moment was lost. Tessa shook her
head. It was no good. She had to stop these flights of imagination immediately
and look forward, not back. Nevertheless, that profile did look so like the brief
glimpse she'd had of her captor all those months ago. It wasn't of course. He'd
been roughly spoken, with whiskers. Nothing like Nat at all.

"Tessa?"
Mijo turned to her. "Are you all right?"

Tessa
cleared her throat theatrically. "I caught my voice that's all. I was
about to say, I'd enjoy the outing, my lord. I'll look forward to it."

She
swore Nat stifled a chuckle as the carriage drew to a halt and he got out to
help Mijo and Tessa down onto the street. Theo followed, and the men shook
hands.

Nat
turned to Tessa. "Until tomorrow at eleven."

Tessa
nodded. She'd never been one to stay in bed and saw nothing untoward at being
ready for an excursion at that hour.

Even
when she spent a sleepless night.

It
wasn't that she dreamed of a faceless man who came to her in the night. It
wasn't even the fact that once her maid had left her, she'd crept out of bed to
put her string of pearls on again to feel them satin smooth against her skin.
It was the weird and unpalatable thought that somehow she felt she was
betraying her smuggler. But then was she not also betraying Nat? It was all so
confusing. As dawn approached, Tessa gave up her quest for sleep and sat in the
armchair by the window and stared into the garden. A robin flitted from one
branch of the oak tree to another, and two blackbirds argued over a worm on the
patch of lawn that was Mijo's pride and joy.

Tessa
watched them absently and wondered just what on earth she was going to do. It
wasn't fair to Nat to lead him on if she had no intention of accepting his
offer. Indeed the more time they spent together, the more it would seem to him,
and her parents, to say nothing of the ton, that she intended to accept him.
The ton she cared little about, but she would never do anything intentionally
to shame her parents or Nat, who was acting so honorably.

If
only she knew why he wanted her as his wife. There was only one way to find
out. Ask him.

With
that in mind, Tessa went back to bed and slept solidly until Doris brought in
her washing water.

Of
course going back to bed and dropping into such a deep sleep was totally the wrong
thing to do. She felt about as lively as a vat of flat ale. However, once she'd
washed and dressed in her favorite deep rose, lightweight summer riding dress,
Tessa was much more cheerful. The sun was out, and the few clouds in the sky
were wispy and wouldn't mar the day. As she cared little for the diktats of the
ton, which said ladies shouldn't let the sun tinge their skin, Tessa chose a
pretty chip bonnet to compliment her dress, a deeper red shawl, and flat
sandals for comfort. With one last twirl in front of her mirror, she made her
way downstairs and arrived on the last flight of stairs at the same time as Thurbelow
admitted Nat into the vestibule.

He
took her breath away. His riding jacket fitted him to perfection, and she'd
never seen such a sheen as on the tasseled hessians his oatmeal britches reached.
Her mouth went dry, and she had to swallow several times before she could greet
him with any sort of equanimity.

Nat
grinned up at her as she reached the last few steps.

"A
sight to behold, my dear. You look like a delicate rosebud, ready to unfurl
your petals."

"I
hope that's a good thing." Tessa curtseyed as he bowed over her hand.
"It makes me sound a bit overblown."

"Not
at all." Nat straightened and stood back to let her precede him down the
shallow steps to where his phaeton stood. "A perfect beauty ready to discover
the world."

"I'm
five and twenty, my lord, as you well know. I'm past the discovery stage."
Mind you,
not in everything, but I doubt he means what I know I need to find out.

"Nonsense."
Nat handed her into the phaeton and walked around the vehicle to take his seat.
"We never lose the art of discovery." He nodded to the groom who
stood at the horses' heads, to let them go, and clicked the reins as the man
stood back.

"No
groom? And I have no maid. Is this wise?" Tessa wasn't bothered. After all
it was Nat, and they would be in full view of the world and his wife.
Nevertheless, mindful of her earlier thoughts about why he wanted her, she was
determined to have everything out in the open.

"Your
parents know where we are. We will not be alone, per se, and we need to
talk." Nat expertly weaved the equipage along the busy streets, dodging
scrubby urchins, pie sellers, and road sweepers alike, until they left the
hustle and bustle of the center and moved through the countryside. "I have
to begin to show you I would make an exemplary husband somehow, and there's
little chance at damned Almacks or the theater. Not if I want to keep your
reputation intact. We'll meet Arthur and Sybille at the inn, plus your parents
of course. I just have the honor and the pleasure of your unencumbered
attention for the journey. A pleasure unsurpassed by anything else I could ever
imagine."

Tessa
burst out laughing. "Doing it a little brown, my lord. Better than a
session at Cribb's or a winning hand at Watiers?"

Nat
dipped his head to acknowledge her sally. "At this moment in time, certainly."

"Well
said," Tessa said. "It's nice to know I hold more attraction than a
fist in the face."

"Or
a royal flush."

"Indeed."
She sat back on the narrow seat, and not for the first time, wished the wooden
bench had more padding. Phaetons may well be exciting to ride in, but they did
nothing for comfort. She'd ache like the devil later. Hopefully it would be
worth it. "So, what should we discuss? The weather? Whether Prinny is
losing his marbles even faster than was thought?"

"Whether
you want a town wedding or one in Devon?"

"De...
Oh no." Tessa wagged her finger at him. "I am not being drawn down
that road, my lord. If and when I receive and accept an offer will be time
enough."

"I'd
best get a move on then." Nat turned into the grounds of Primrose Hill and
drew up under a tree where Thompson, one of his grooms, waited for them. "I
thought we could walk from here if it's acceptable to you? The inn is over that
rise."

Tessa
stared at him. Trust a man not to mention such a possibility. It was as well
she had sensible sandals on and not her new flimsy ones she'd rejected just in
case this scenario occurred.

"It
suits me admirably. I miss not having the opportunity to breathe clean, fresh
air when we're in town." She wrinkled her nose. There was a distinct aroma
of the cowshed in the air. "Well, country air, at least."

Nat
raised his eyebrows as he threw the reins to Thompson. "Shades of Farmer
Ferris?"

"Exactly.
Hello, Thompson, how's your mother?" Young Thomson's mother was renown in
their area of Devon for her exquisite stitchery. Tessa treasured a cushion
Mother Thompson had made for her when she, Tessa, reached her majority.

"Fine,
my lady. You know my ma, never stops for a minute." Thompson held the horses
steady as Nat helped Tessa to the ground. "She's taken up tatting in a big
way. I reckon the whole family will drown in it soon." He grinned to show
the thought of multiple tatted items didn't bother him. "And she reckons
her veg will be better than anyone else's at the harvest service. She's got
some secret manure for the taties she says."

"Your
mother always gets things spot on," Nat said as he replaced Thompson alongside
the horses and the young man took his place in the phaeton. "Take it to
the inn, please. We'll leave from there later." Nat waited until Thompson
gathered the reins and then stepped back from the animals and watched as Thomson
moved the phaeton away and up the hill.

Nat
turned to Tessa, who had watched the exchange with pleasure. Whatever else Nat
was, he was also a nice man, even though nice seemed a little lukewarm of a description.

"Shall
we?" He held his arm out to Tessa, who gladly tucked her hand under it.

"My
pleasure, my lord. I have suitable footwear, so all will be well."

To
his credit, Nat looked somewhat discomfited. "Ah, I never thought of that.
Are you certain all is well?"

"It
is." She waved her foot in the air and made sure she was still decent. If
he caught a brief glimpse of ankle, that would be all.

"Then
in that case."
 
Nat glanced round
them. There was no one in sight.

To
her chagrin he released her arm and took her hand instead, and got down on one
knee. Tessa glanced at the top of his head, where the gentle breeze ruffled his
immaculate hair.

Oh no. Surely not?

He
looked up at her with an expression she couldn't decipher. Was it hope, anticipation,
or pure devilment? She had no idea. When he wanted to be, Nat was incredibly
complicated to read. Evidently this was one of those times.
Damn him.