Tessa's Touch by Brenda Hiatt Page A

before dinner, as you
can no doubt see— and smell."
    He waved that concern away with one hand.
"I never mind the scent of horses. It brings back some of the happiest
times of my life. I assume from the hour that it was a good run today?"
    "It was." She proceeded to give him
the high points of the day —the various jumps, who refused them and who
acquitted themselves particularly well, the terrain, the horses and the hounds.
She did not, of course, mention the criticism she'd received from some of the
sportsmen for her very presence.
    "How I wish I'd been there," Sir
George sighed when she finished. "I'm sure you were magnificent, my dear,
just as your mother was the first time I saw her. Why, she could clear fences
some of the boldest men feared to attempt."
    Before he could wander into further
reminiscences —all of which Tessa had heard before —she stood. "Now, Papa,
I pray you'll excuse me until dinner. You may not mind the smell of horses and
sweat mingling with your meal, but I'd prefer to have Cook's excellent dishes
unadulterated."
    The dreaminess left his expression as he
focused on her. "And you're a bit sore, I see. Yes, a hot bath will do you
good. I will see you at table, Tessa —and thank you."
    She did not need to ask what his thanks were
for. While listening to her account of the meet, he'd seemed more animated than
she'd seen him in months —perhaps years. She'd wondered why he had capitulated
so quickly when she and Uncle Mercer had proposed that she ride to the hunt,
but now she understood. Through her, he could vicariously live again the
glories of his youth and forget for a while the infirmity that prevented him
ever hunting again.
    Going up the stairs, eager for that bath, she
could almost feel her bones creaking. Still, she would not trade the day she'd
had for anything. Foxhunting had been more exciting than she'd imagined —the
thrill of sailing over fence, ditch and hedge, the gallops across the fields
with other horses thundering alongside.
    The frank admiration in Lord Anthony's eyes.
    No! She mustn't dwell on that part, for that
way lay folly and heartbreak. His practised flirting made it clear he was
experienced at the game. He no doubt found her an amusing novelty, a diversion
for his brief time in the Shires, but he would forget her once he returned to
London Society —which he would do as soon as hunting season ended. They all
did.
    Her bath was ready when she reached her
chamber. Smiling with anticipation, she allowed Sally to help her strip off her
mother's old habit, then her underthings, then sank into the blissfully hot
water with a sigh.
    Of course, Papa had been pestering her for
years to spend a Season in London. But even if they could afford it, she would
not follow Lord Anthony to Town like some lovesick puppy. She wasn't sure she
even liked the man, for all he was devastatingly handsome. Anyway, the lack of
money made the whole matter moot.
    Letting that brief, silly fantasy dissipate,
Tessa picked up a cloth and began scrubbing herself clean of the day's dirt.

    * *
     *

    When Anthony and his friends arrived at the
George for the first Hunt Dinner of the season, he was scarcely surprised to
find that one of the main topics of conversation was Miss Tessa Seaton. Other
than the occasional mistress, she was the first woman in a decade to ride with
the Quorn, and that she had ridden so well was a matter of both wonder and
resentment among those present.
    "You'd think these fellows had never seen
a woman on horseback before," Thor commented to the others as they moved
into the common room, which was thronged with men in the evening hunt uniform
of scarlet lined with white. "Do none of their sisters ride?"
    "Even your sister can't hold a candle to
Miss Seaton on horseback, Thor, and you know it," Killer said to his much
larger friend. "Though I'll grant you Miss Turpin is a fine rider."
    Anthony nodded along with the rest, remembering
when Thor's sister had petitioned to ride to