expressed
an interest in that horse. The bidding will be brisk tonight, unless I miss my
guess."
When Tessa did not reply, he frowned.
"What? I thought you'd be pleased, much as Wheatstone needs the
money."
She managed a slight smile. "Oh, I am, of
course. I'm, er, merely realizing that I'm likely to be sore tomorrow. It's
been almost a year since I've ridden so much in a single day."
He grunted. "A hot bath and some liniment
will cure it. If this goes as well as I think it will, you'll want to be ready
to ride to hunt again in a few days, so we can sell this one as well." He
gestured to Cinnamon, beneath him.
Tessa nodded, trying to shake off her lingering
misgivings. "I'm sure I'll be fine," she assured him, but then she
saw Lord Anthony headed her way and wondered if she'd spoken too soon.
Her uncle wheeled away to speak to another knot
of gentlemen, offering her no reason to ignore Lord Anthony's greeting.
"You seem to be holding up well, Miss
Seaton," he said with a smile that made her hope she'd imagined his
suspicion earlier. "I must say I admire your stamina."
She was abruptly reminded of that double-edged
conversation in her father's study last week. "Thank you, my lord, though
I was just telling my uncle that I expect I'll feel the effects tomorrow. I've
not been used to such hard riding."
"It certainly doesn't show." His gaze
was frankly admiring, bringing warmth to her cheeks. "Pray don't feel you
must finish out the day if you are tired, however. Probably half of the men who
started with us won't, you know."
She'd noticed that the only other woman in the
hunt had gone back at the second check —not that she'd taken a single jump that
Tessa had seen. She longed to ask who that woman was, but suspected from
something her uncle had said that she was not quite . . . proper.
"Oh, I believe I'm good for another few
miles, at least," she said, oddly anxious that he not think her
faint-hearted. "And Nimbus here is barely winded." As soon as she
said that, she wished she hadn't.
"So I see. He is a fine animal, however unpredictable his
temper might be."
"His temper has improved greatly,"
she felt obliged to say, hoping it was true. "We've not had him long —only
a few months —but he responds far better than he did at first." That much
was definitely true; he'd been difficult even for her to handle when Uncle Mercer
first brought him home.
"Then you've had a hand in his
training?"
Tessa stared at him, trapped. Her father was
adamant that no one outside the family know that she visited the stables, nor
would Uncle Mercer or Cousin Harold appreciate her confessing her assistance to
this gentleman.
"I, ah, have ridden him quite a few
times," she finally said. "That has allowed me to mark his
progress."
He smiled, though his hazel eyes were again too
perceptive. "Then I am even more impressed with how you are performing on
him today. I would never have expected such riding from someone who wasn't
intimately acquainted with his—or her— mount."
"Thank you," she said stiffly,
refusing to acknowledge his implication. "I have spent more time with him
these past few days, knowing I'd be riding him today." Papa had agreed to
that, once Uncle Mercer had convinced him to let her ride with the Quorn. So
much extra time with the horses was enough to make this enterprise worthwhile
to her, apart from the money.
"Of course." His expression was
knowing —perhaps even amused.
She met his gaze squarely, refusing to be
intimidated or mocked, and sensed a subtle change in him as he returned the
look. It was as though something, some sort of understanding or awareness,
passed between them. Tessa felt her cheeks warming again, but didn't look away,
afraid that might reveal even more about her unsettled response to his
nearness, his intensity.
The huntsman's horn recalled her to her
surroundings. "The scent," she said unnecessarily. "They've found
it."
For an instant she thought she saw something
like surprise in his