Blind Beauty by K M Peyton Page A

contradict the assumption that she was Maurice’s daughter.
    James Raleigh was, close to, a large, handsome man with a strong presence. Tessa could imagine everyone jumping to attention in his yard, as they all jumped to Sarah at Sparrows Wyck. He had a sharp-faced, extremely beautiful wife called Diana who was well known in the eventing world, but rather more reserved in her manner than her husband. Tessa got the impression that she was attending in the line of duty – in fact, as the evening got under way, she realized that all the guests were there for a purpose: a big sale of horses in training was coming up and Maurice was planning to buy. He wanted advice. As well as the Raleighs there was an Irish couple who seemed to have a lot of know-how about the horses on offer, and Tom Bryant’s father who was a well-known bloodstock agent. Tom Bryant was there more as a companion to his father than in his jockey capacity, Tessa deduced, for he was put at the bottom of the dinner table next to her, and – like her – did not speak unless he was spoken to.
    Tessa was bubbling with curiosity and excitement but had to keep all her faculties well under control. She could see that Tom Bryant was not in the same league as the older people, in spite of the fact that, when they had spent their thousands on buying and training the horses, he was the one on whom it all depended to make the expenditure worthwhile. What a responsibility! thought Tessa. Especially when the owner was someone as rapacious and ungenerous as her stepfather.
    â€œHe’s not really my father, he’s my stepfather,” she said to Tom Bryant when the others were all talking.
    Tom said, “Lucky for you.”
    â€œI hate him.”
    Tom grinned. Tessa realized that he wasn’t all that much older than she was – eighteen, perhaps – and was lean and hard as whipcord, and extremely good-looking in spite of a bent nose and a scar across one eyebrow. He was well spoken and obviously well educated, and had come to prominence in point-to-point racing very quickly: he was the present whizz-kid jockey. Jimmy said jockeys could go down as quickly as they came up and said that Tom Bryant’s rise to fame was well deserved, but dangerous. “Once you’re up there, there’s only one other place to go, and that’s down. He’s very young to take that sort of responsibility.” Tessa studied him to see if the responsibility rested heavily upon him, but he seemed quite careless of it to her, more bored and impatient with his companions than respectful, glancing at his watch occasionally. He yawned several times.
    Tessa was tongue-tied, not knowing what to say to him. But her mother, lifting her glass of wine to her lips, called gaily across the table, “Tessa goes down to Sparrows Wyck to ride, Tom. I expect you’ve seen her on the gallops.”
    â€œThat string of hacks! We’ve seen them,” Greevy said.
    Tessa scowled at him. She had been hoping, lately, that Greevy was improving under Mr Raleigh’s influence, away from his father, but every time she thought this he ruined it by his sneering and doing-down. If they didn’t hate each other so they would get on, having a lot in common. He looked very presentable, she had to admit, in his formal party suit, his spots going through a good phase at the moment. She supposed he was jealous of glamorous, successful Tom. Anyone would be.
    â€œMr Fellowes’ horses?” Tom asked.
    Tessa said, “Yes. Jimmy gives me lessons.”
    â€œJimmy Fellowes? You should be good then.”
    Tessa wanted to say, “Yes, I am,” but didn’t think it would be right.
    â€œI want to be a jockey,” she said.
    Greevy laughed and Tom said, “You’re mad. It’s really tough for a girl. Even taught by Jimmy Fellowes. Trainers don’t like ’em.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œWho do you ride? There’s only