Tessa's Touch (26 page)

Still, she could not deny that most of the
revelations over the past few days had been welcome ones. Though her father had
been evasive about why Uncle Mercer and Harold had left Wheatstone so
precipitately, he confirmed her suspicion that Mercer had been diverting estate
funds into his own pocket.

He was interviewing for a new steward, while a
man recommended by Lord Rushford combed through the estate books. Already, Mr.
Frobish had discovered revenues that could now benefit Wheatstone instead of
Uncle Mercer's gaming habit— something Tessa had known nothing about.

Then there was the matter of the horses, which
were far better off without Harold around, even if they were currently without
a trainer. When Tessa had hinted again to her father that she would like to
play a role there, he had at least listened carefully before repeating that it
would not be proper, giving her hope that in time she might wear down his
resistance to the idea. At any rate, there would now be no question of
attempting to sell Vulcan before the stallion was properly broken and trained.

But by far the most wonderful news was that
Uncle Mercer had been lying to her about her father's heart all these years.
She had hugged Anthony when he'd told her, the day after their betrothal,
almost forgiving him on the spot for everything else. Almost. But there was
still the matter of her father's disappointment in her, her lost freedom —and
the ordeal Anthony was about to put her through.

For it had been agreed between Anthony and her
father that the new couple would leave on the morrow for London, to meet
Anthony's family. Tessa could not recall ever dreading anything so much. First,
however, there was the ceremony to get through.

"—so long as you both shall live?"
the vicar asked Anthony.

"I will," he replied without the
slightest quaver in his voice.

Tessa's voice was not so steady, her emotions
were in such turmoil. A few moments later, however, it was done —she and
Anthony were married. And she still didn't know if that meant that her fondest
dreams were to be fulfilled —or her worst nightmares.

Or, perhaps, both.

"Congratulations, my dear," said her
father, the first to greet her after the ceremony. "I believe the two of
you will be extremely happy together."

Tessa leaned down to give him a hug.
"Thank you, Papa. You've been so good to me this week past, particularly
considering—"

"Water under the bridge, sweetheart,"
he said, and his smile really did look genuine. "Look forward, not back.
It's what I mean to do."

She nodded, realizing what that meant to a man
who'd spent years doing just the opposite. Her father then turned to Anthony.

"I'm trusting you with my greatest
treasure, lad. See you take proper care of her."

Anthony smiled and Tessa couldn't help noticing
again, dazedly, that he was by far the handsomest man she'd ever seen. "If
I don't, you will be able to bring me to heel for it, sir, as you'll be seeing
her daily once we return from London."

That had been yet another pleasant surprise for
Tessa: that Anthony was willing to live at Wheatstone after their marriage, and
in fact had already made arrangements for Lord Rushford to rent Ivy Lodge from
him. It meant that she wouldn't have to leave her father after all.

Except for her trip to London, she remembered
with renewed dread.

The rest of the small crowd came forward to
offer their congratulations: Lord Rushford, Sir Charles, Mr. Turpin, Lady
Killerby, and even Lord Killerby, who was now able to get about a little with
the help of crutches.

"Brides are always lovely, of course, but
you are the loveliest I've ever seen," Lady Killerby declared, coming up
to kiss Tessa's cheek before wiping her eyes. "It makes me wish I had a
daughter of my own."

"Perhaps Killer will oblige and bring you
one someday, my lady," Sir Charles suggested.

"I can only hope," she replied with a
despairing shake of her head. "I'd thought being off the hunting field
might throw him more in the way of the local girls, but I see I'll have to
insist he go to London in the Spring if he's ever to catch himself a
wife."

The others chuckled. "Perhaps we'll all
go, and urge him along," said Lord Rushford. "There's little else to
do in the Spring, after all."

"Or this next week or so," complained
Sir Charles. "At least you won't miss much while you're gone,
Anthony."

An early frost had put a temporary stop to
foxhunting, though the ground was sure to thaw before Tessa and Anthony
returned.

"And you can trust me to see that your
father is well looked-after and never bored, Lady Anthony," said Lady
Killerby.

Tessa started at this first use of her married
name. It sounded so odd—and so very unlikely.

Anthony apparently noticed her reaction.
"Lady Anthony Northrup," he said. "I rather like the sound of
that. Think you can live with it, Tessa?"

"I suppose I must," she said, then
realized how ungracious that sounded. "That is, I'm sure I'll grow
accustomed to it in time." That wasn't much better. What was wrong with
her?

Lady Killerby had insisted on holding the
wedding breakfast at Ivy Lodge, claiming that her hostessing skills would get
rusty otherwise. Tessa suspected the dilapidated condition of most of
Wheatstone had something to do with the plan, and that Anthony had had a hand
in it. In any case, it was perfectly true that Ivy Lodge was better suited to a
large gathering —for now.

They all repaired, therefore, to Ivy Lodge, and
soon Tessa was surrounded by members of the Quorn, Belvoir, Cottesmore and
Mountsorrel Hunts, as well as many of their wives. Even the Hilltops were there
to offer their well-wishes, completely oblivious to the fact that they'd
unwittingly helped to bring the match about.

Many of those present remembered Sir George
from his hunting days and made a point of seeking him out to talk over old
times. Tessa couldn't help smiling to see him in such glory, managing to ignore
for the moment the trials that still lay ahead of her.

"Penny for your thoughts," Anthony
whispered in her ear, making her jump. "I'd guess they are agreeable, judging
by your expression —though perhaps not so agreeable as mine." He placed a
hand at her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze.

Abruptly, Tessa could think of nothing but the
coming night. She swallowed. "I, ah, was just thinking that my father
looks very happy —and healthy —today."

"I'm glad," said Anthony, following
her gaze. "I would not want our marriage to be a source of pain to him.
However, if you are happy, I believe he will be as well. And I mean to make
sure that you are happy, Tessa."

She turned to look up at him. "I only hope
you won't discover we are so mismatched that
you
cannot be happy. Right now you seem to regard
marriage as a new sport to master, but in time the novelty will fade."

"I have no fear that my interest will
fade, Tessa," he said with a grin. "If you'd seen some of the
debutantes my mother used to throw at my head—! Any of those girls would have
bored me inside of a fortnight."

"As you've not known me much longer than
that, I'd say I have yet to be put to that test," she said lightly, trying
not to imagine the lovely, polished daughters of Society with whom he must be
mentally comparing her.

He gazed down at her and the expression in his
eyes made her heart turn over. "You've more than passed that test, my
sweet, believe me. Time is not what matters, though time will prove the truth
of my words. You'll see."

She could only pray he was right.

Two hours later, people finally began to leave.
Tessa was just as glad, for her face was beginning to ache from smiling so
much. She was exchanging farewells with the Hilltops when she became aware of a
slight commotion near the doorway. Turning, she was surprised to see her uncle
and cousin, declaring —rather loudly —that they'd come to pay their respects to
the newlyweds.

It was the first time Tessa had seen them in a
week, and habit, if nothing else, prompted a reluctant concern for their
welfare. They were, after all, family.

"Uncle Mercer! Harold! I trust you are
both well?" she exclaimed, meeting them halfway across the room.
"Wheatstone is not the same without you." That was true enough,
though most of the changes so far seemed to be for the better.

"I'll wager it's not," Uncle Mercer
said, a trace of bitterness in his smile. "I hope taking over the
management of the estate is not taxing your father's health." He glanced
over to where Sir George sat near the fireplace, talking with another gentleman
and watching the newcomers warily.

"Not at all— though it turns out his
health is not so fragile as I had been led to believe," Tessa replied with
a significant look that made her uncle frown suddenly.

Harold's expression was more sneer than smile.
"But then, you're not noticing much at home these days, I'll warrant,
eh?" He nodded in Anthony's direction. "I imagine your poor Papa is
feeling rather neglected."

Tessa followed his gaze in time to see Anthony
excuse himself from the small group about him and head in their direction. She
smiled at him, trying to ignore Harold's spiteful words. That was a demon she'd
already wrestled —and vanquished, she reminded herself.

"Ah, Mr. Emery." Anthony's voice was
cool. "I am delighted you could both stop by."

He laid a protective hand on Tessa's shoulder
as he spoke and she was abruptly irritated. Did he think her unequal to holding
her own against her kinsmen? Suddenly, chillingly, she wondered if that were
the real reason he had married her.

"They merely came to offer their
congratulations," she said quickly, trying not to let that insidious doubt
take hold.

Anthony's smile did not reach his eyes.
"How nice."

"It seemed the least we could do,"
Uncle Mercer said, again a bit more loudly than necessary. "Other than Sir
George, we are the nearest family Lady Anthony has, after all." He sent a
quick glance around the room.

"Meaning that her good fortune is yours?"
said Anthony cynically. "How very, ah, enterprising of you."

Uncle Mercer's smile dimmed. "Not at all,
not at all," he blustered. "Remember, I've shared in Tessa's care for
years, and she and Harold used to be quite . . . close. It's natural we should
take an interest in her future."

Tessa was surprised to see Anthony's jaw
clench. "Of course," he said shortly. Then, with a stilted nod of his
head, he turned away— almost as though he didn't trust himself to remain.

"Your bridegroom looks less happy than I
would expect, considering the prize he has just won," Harold commented.

Startled again, Tessa glanced up at her cousin.
"Prize—? I presume you mean Wheatstone."

He raised a thick eyebrow. "What else?
You're a fetching enough thing, of course, but I doubt that alone would have
induced a man like Lord Anthony to marry you, particulary once he learned the
truth about your birth. Mind you don't let him throw it in your face, since
it's really not
your
fault,
after all."

"What on earth are you talking
about?" She glanced from her cousin to her uncle, who only shrugged.

"Harold should not have said anything, for
it would upset your father greatly if he knew you were aware of it. I recommend
you not mention it to him, for his health is hardly robust, whatever Lord
Anthony may have told you to the contrary."

"But—" She was still confused.

"Come, Harold. We will pay our respects to
Lady Killerby, then be on our way. I wish you very happy, Tessa," Uncle
Mercer said, his tone implying the opposite. "Very happy indeed."

Frowning, Tessa watched them go. What could
Harold have meant about her birth? She had never heard a hint that there had
been the slightest irregularity there . . . though if there was, Papa would not
have told her, nor anyone else, with his concern for the good opinion of the
neighborhood.

It was possible, of course, that Harold had
simply made it up. She would not put it past him, though she wouldn't have
thought Uncle Mercer so petty, particularly as it would cast her mother —his
sister —in a negative light. He had implied that Anthony knew about it,
whatever it was. She would simply ask him, she decided.

Anthony was relieved to see the Emerys leaving,
along with the rest of the guests. Not only did her uncle and cousin push him
perilously close to losing his temper with their veiled insults, but he was
eager to have Tessa to himself.

His wife —he loved thinking of her that way!—
gave her father a parting hug before Rush and Thor loaded him into the carriage
for his return to Wheatstone. Anthony helped the coachman to secure his new
father-in-law's Merlin chair to the top of the vehicle.

"I will write as soon as I reach London,
Papa, and will return as quickly as I may," he heard Tessa say.
"Neither Anthony nor I wish to miss any more of the foxhunting season than
we must, after all."