Tessa's Touch (19 page)

He stared at her, suddenly pale. "God, no,
Tessa. Of course not! How can you think it? I'm asking you to be my wife."

* *
*

CHAPTER 13

Anthony cursed his inept timing as the coachman
opened the carriage door. Tessa was clearly still trying to absorb what he'd
just said. "Thank you, John," he said curtly. "I'll help Miss
Seaton out myself."

At his tone, the coachman hastily bowed and
backed away to busy himself with the horses.

"Tessa?" Anthony asked tenderly,
hopefully.

She met his gaze, her expression dazed.
"I—I don't know. I must think. I . . . I suppose we'd best go in. Lady
Killerby will be wondering what is keeping us out here."

"Of course." He stepped out of the
carriage and offered her his hand. In silence, she took it and went down the
two steps to the ground and in silence accompanied him to the house.

He wished he knew what she was thinking. What a
blockhead he was to make such a clumsy offer, without preamble. So clumsy that
she had completely mistaken his meaning —and no wonder, he thought, remembering
his phrasing. A man of his reputation, who had given her no indication of his
intentions, why should she not think the worst of him? Surely, though, now that
he'd plainly stated his wishes—

"Ah, Miss Seaton, how nice to see you
again," exclaimed Lady Killerby, standing just behind the butler as the
door opened. "Could you not prevail upon your father to accompany
you?"

Tessa glanced questioningly up at Anthony, who
cleared his throat. "Ah, Sir George was not prepared to go out just yet,
my lady, nor was he certain that his manservant was up to the task of helping
me carry him down the stairs."

He'd completely forgotten that Lady Killerby
had suggested Sir George come as well, so anxious was he to have some time
alone with Tessa. After all of his lecturing to her on honesty, what must she
be thinking of him now?

"No matter," Lady Killerby said with
a toss of her head. "Perhaps I shall call on him later. But now, do come
in and have some tea, Miss Seaton, before you begin this, ah, curious task Lord
Anthony has set for you."

Her gaze was frankly questioning, and Anthony
was relieved when Tessa summoned a smile. "Not so curious, my lady, for
Zephyr came from my father's stable and I had a small hand in his earlier
training. I merely came to offer some advice."

"I see," Lady Killerby responded in a
tone that implied she did not see at all. They entered the parlor then, where
Killer was again propped on the sofa. "Look, William, Miss Seaton has come
to visit," his mother said with a fond smile at the invalid.

"Give you good day, Miss Seaton,"
Killer exclaimed, inclining his head. "Kind of you to stop by to amuse me
while the others are all gone hunting."

Tessa stepped forward, concern making her even
more beautiful, in Anthony's opinion. "Have you been very bored then, my
lord?"

"Bored! How can he be bored when I am
here?" his mother replied indignantly. "I simply thought some other
diversion might be beneficial."

Killer glanced from his mother to Tessa, doing
a poor job of hiding a grin. "Very beneficial. I feel better
already."

"I'm delighted, Killer, but you can't have
her for long, I'm afraid," Anthony said then. "Once she's had her
tea, she's going to help me with that chestnut I bought off Ballard. You're
welcome to watch from the window, if we can maneuver you into a chair."

"That might be amusing, I suppose,"
Killer said, his smile dimming slightly.

"The tea is ready," announced Lady
Killerby, pouring out. She then took charge of the conversation while everyone
sipped.

Anthony decided it was just as well, as neither
he nor Tessa was likely to be good company until they had finished their
aborted conversation. Draining his cup, he stood. "Now, what say we
reintroduce you to Zephyr, Miss Seaton?"

She nodded and stood as well, though her gaze
slid away from his, as it had done since they entered the house. "Yes, I'm
quite looking forward to seeing him again."

Thanking Lady Killerby, she followed him out to
the front steps, where he sent a footman to the stables to have Zephyr brought
round. The moment the man was gone, he turned to Tessa.

"You didn't give me an answer," he
reminded her, ducking his head to peer into her face.

"I know."

The moment he had clarified his intentions,
Tessa had thought her heart would burst for joy. Surely, this was the answer to
all of her prayers! But as shock subsided, doubts crept in, and during the
brief interlude in the parlor of Ivy Lodge, common sense had reasserted itself.
Now she was glad she had not instantly accepted him, as every instinct had
prompted her to do.

"I . . . I think you cannot have thought
this through, Anthony," she said carefully. "Kind as your impulse
was, I fear a match between us is impossible."

He looked startled but not angry, as she'd
feared he might. "Might I ask why?" he asked stiffly, guardedly.

At once she sought to reassure him. "Not
because I do not care for you, please believe me. But your world and mine are
so different, and . . . and I cannot leave Papa. He needs me."

Anthony put a hand on her shoulder and she
could feel him quivering with suppressed emotion. "I need you too, Tessa.
I've wanted you almost from the moment we met, and now—" He broke off, for
a groom was approaching with Zephyr on a lead.

"We'll finish this later," he
promised.

She nodded, but doubted her decision would
change, much as she wished it could. He clearly desired her . . . and pitied
her. But he had said nothing of love, which surely meant he would take no
lasting harm from her refusal. Once he was gone from the Shires and she was no
longer immediately before him, he would forget her. After all, Anthony was the son
of a duke, a member of one of the most exalted families in all England. His
parents must surely have higher hopes for him than the daughter of an
impoverished country squire, granddaughter of a yeoman horse trainer. Marrying
her might make him a laughingstock, from what she had heard of Society.

And then, of course, there was Papa. Losing her
mother had nearly killed him, making him so reckless of his life that he'd
ended up permanently maimed. What would losing
her
cause him to do? He might pretend to be happy,
for her sake, but once she was gone? No, no, she dared not risk it.

Anthony took Zephyr's lead from the groom,
speaking softly to the horse. "There, then, fellow. Let's show Miss Seaton
how much better you're doing, eh?" He placed a hand on the gelding's neck
and to Tessa's surprise, Zephyr didn't even flinch.

"Bring me his saddle and bridle,"
Anthony said to the groom, who nodded and headed back to the stables. Then, to
the horse, "Let's warm you up a bit, shall we?"

Holding the lead firmly, he led the chestnut
around the lawn, first at a walk, then at a trot. By then the groom had
returned with the tack. Tessa stepped forward, ready to help saddle the horse,
but Anthony shook his head. "Not yet. I want you to see how much progress
we've made already."

She watched skeptically as Anthony threw pad
and saddle over Zephyr's back, for she recalled that he'd always shied when the
girth was tightened —at least, if it was tightened by anyone but herself. To
her surprise, however, he stood quietly as Anthony performed that operation,
not even protesting when he gently punched him in the side to make him let out
his breath for the final cinching.

"You certainly have made progress,"
she exclaimed. At the sound of her voice, Zephyr's ears pricked forward and he
half-turned his head toward her.

"Not yet, lad," Anthony said.
"You can visit with her soon enough." He fastened on the bridle, then
vaulted into the saddle. Again, the horse made no protest whatsoever.

Tessa stared. "I begin to wonder what you
needed me for."

"He still startles much too easily,"
Anthony said. "A definite failing, if he's ever to make a good hunter.
I've been gradually getting him used to various objects and people, but the
sudden appearance of, say, a dog, will still make him shy badly. I'd like to
get him past that, and thought your presence might help there."

"Of course." She was amazed, and a
bit embarrassed at her own conceit. Anthony had made as much progress with
Zephyr in two weeks as she'd managed in two months. Had she come to rely too
heavily on her special gift, neglecting more conventional training methods? It
was a chastening thought.

After trotting Zephyr up to a few trees and a
pump in the side yard— objects that certainly would have made him shy under any
rider but Tessa a month ago—he sent the groom for a dog.

"Now will come the real test," he
said.

Tessa moved closer, ready to calm Zephyr if
necessary —though in truth she was beginning to think Anthony had nearly as
exceptional a touch with horses as herself. She'd never seen any man except her
grandfather handle a difficult horse so well.

The groom came around the corner with a
foxhound on a lead.

"One of Thor's hounds," Anthony told
her. "He's begun building his own pack since the war ended. Steady,
Zephyr," he added as the horse took a nervous step backward.

He motioned the groom to move closer, keeping
the chestnut on a tightened rein. "All right, Tessa," he said softly.
"Talk to him."

Wanting to allow Anthony to do as much of the
calming as possible, she waited until Zephyr looked ready to bolt. "Come
now, Zephyr, it's not so bad," she called then, in her lilt. "Listen
to Lord Anthony, your new master."

At the same time, Anthony stroked the horse's
neck, murmuring words of comfort himself. The gelding stopped trembling and
prancing, though he still eyed the approaching dog askance. Tessa wasn't sure
how much was due to her influence and how much to Anthony's. Perhaps Zephyr
wasn't either, which was all to the good.

With Anthony continually soothing the horse but
Tessa speaking only once or twice more, the groom was able to bring the dog to
within a few feet of the chestnut, lead it in a circle around the horse, then
away. Tessa had not touched Zephyr even once. "Amazing," she
breathed.

"You see? I do have talents of my own,"
Anthony said with a grin as the groom moved out of earshot. "Perhaps I can
convince you to let me—"

Just then, a shrill voice came from above them.
"What on earth were you doing with that dog, Anthony?" called Lady
Killerby from the parlor window, which she'd apparently opened just for that
purpose, as the November air was chill.

Tessa jumped, and so did Zephyr, though Anthony
calmed him again at once. "Training this horse, my lady, as you see,"
he called back. "We are finished for now, however."

"Good. I'm having luncheon brought up, so
you have just time to wash and join us." With a nod that made the
chartreuse feather in her turban bounce, she slammed the window shut.

Anthony rolled his eyes, then said, "Why
don't you go on inside while I return Zephyr to his stall. I'll be with you
directly."

Part of her was glad that their discussion had
again been postponed, but another part of her was as frustrated as Anthony
looked. Was she secretly hoping he
could
convince her to change her mind? Folly, if so, for it would be
most unwise —for both of them.

Conversation was general but lively during the
elegant luncheon Lady Killerby had ordered, allowing Tessa little time for
contemplation. Every time her thoughts strayed to Anthony's remarkable
declaration, Lady Killerby demanded her response to some trivial question or
other. It was some small comfort that Anthony seemed similarly preoccupied.

When the meal finally ended, Tessa thanked her
hostess as well as the others, saying that it was time she returned to Wheatstone
and her father. Anthony rose with her, and she tried to marshall her thoughts
for the inevitable argument during the carriage ride back, when they would
finally be alone again.

"A moment," said Lady Killerby.
"I believe I will come with you and pay a call on Sir George myself, as he
was unable to come here. It cannot be good for him to spend so much time
alone."

Tessa glanced at Anthony in time to see him
smooth a sudden frown. "Of course, my lady," he said blandly. "I
will have the carriage brought round while you get your wrap."

Ten minutes later all three of them were
trundling along the road to Wheatstone, Lady Killerby dominating the
conversation much as Sir George had done during his drive to Ivy Lodge on
Sunday.

"I know that your father does not go out
as a rule, Miss Seaton," she was saying, "but do none of his
neighbors visit him? He was such a sociable man in his youth, I can't imagine
him living so isolated now."

"He has been weak since the accident that
crippled him six years ago, my lady," Tessa replied. "As he tires so
easily, he has rarely been at home to visitors, and they eventually stopped
coming."

She did not mention that it was she herself who
had generally sent any callers away, usually without notifying her father.

"Hmph. He didn't appear particularly weak
or tired Sunday night. More society will do him good, I'll be bound," said
Lady Killerby decidedly. "Once it's known I have called upon him, the
neighbors will follow suit, mark my words. And it will be known by nightfall,
country gossip being what it is." She chuckled.