than to
play whist with us, Papa." If once they sat down to cards, they might be
here till midnight!
"Not at all, Miss Seaton," Sir
Charles protested. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we'd be glad
to oblige Sir George in a rubber or two."
The others gave a chorus of agreement and
Tessa's heart sank. It was true that her father had used to enjoy the game.
During the first year or so after his accident, Harold and Uncle Mercer had
frequently been pressed into service to make up a table, though neither of them
particularly excelled at whist. In recent years, however, Sir George had been
too tired and withdrawn in the evenings to suggest it.
"We have nine, so we can take turns at one
table, or two can play as one," Lord Rushford suggested.
But Uncle Mercer headed for the door, saying,
"No need, for I can't stay. I have several matters to attend to after
taking most of the evening for pleasure. No, Harold, you stay and play,"
he added when his son made as if to join him.
"We have just eight, then, which is
perfect," Sir George exclaimed, motioning for Griffith and young Jonas,
who was playing footman tonight, to set up the tables. A few minutes later,
they all settled down to play.
Sir George had insisted that he and Tessa play
at different tables, much to her frustration, as that would prevent her keeping
as close an eye on her father as she'd have liked. Even worse, she was now
trapped in close proximity with both Lord Anthony and her cousin Harold, the
imposing Mr. Turpin making up their fourth.
Anthony, on the other hand, was perfectly
content with the grouping, as it would give him an opportunity to learn more
about this rather intriguing family.
"How long have you worked as trainer for
Sir George?" he asked young Mr. Emery as the first hand was dealt.
The fellow shot him a suspicious glance before
answering, reinforcing his opinion that the man bore watching. "Just over
two years," he said. "I took over when my— when the old trainer
died." He glanced quickly at Miss Seaton, then away.
Anthony remembered what Porrington had claimed,
so was able to divine what Harold Emery had almost said. "I take it your
father oversees your efforts?" he asked then, not wishing to pursue a
topic that might make Miss Seaton uneasy.
The other man shrugged. "He oversees the
whole estate, but he lets me handle the horses as I see fit."
"Will you be riding in the hunt this
season, Mr. Emery?" Thor asked, arranging the cards in his hand.
Emery shook his head. "I haven't time for
such nonsense. That is—I'm very busy with the stables." Anthony thought he
looked distinctly uncomfortable, but whether from his rude slip or because he
wished to avoid the topic of the hunt, he couldn't say.
They settled down to play then, but after a few
tricks, Anthony tried another tack. "Much as he enjoyed the hunt, and
clearly still enjoys hearing about it, I'm surprised Sir George hasn't found a
way to watch it occasionally," he said to Miss Seaton.
Frowning, she missed her turn, realized it,
apologized, then said, "Pray do not put such an idea into my father's
head, my lord. I fear an evening such as this will be tiring enough for him."
"Do you mean to say he never leaves the
house at all?" Anthony asked in surprise.
She shook her head. "Never since his
accident. How would he, after all? Stairs alone are a barrier to him, as you
can see."
A barrier she had learned to make use of, Anthony
suspected, remembering the evidences of financial hardship he had seen on the
ground floor that were lacking on this one. "The wings of the house —do
they require navigating stairs for access from this floor?" he asked to
test his theory.
"Well, yes," she replied with evident
surprise. "There is a half-flight up to the west wing and a half-flight
down to the east. Why?"
He sent her what he hoped was a disarming smile
as he shrugged. "I merely wondered how limited Sir George's world had
become since the accident. It must be hard for a man who was
play whist with us, Papa." If once they sat down to cards, they might be
here till midnight!
"Not at all, Miss Seaton," Sir
Charles protested. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we'd be glad
to oblige Sir George in a rubber or two."
The others gave a chorus of agreement and
Tessa's heart sank. It was true that her father had used to enjoy the game.
During the first year or so after his accident, Harold and Uncle Mercer had
frequently been pressed into service to make up a table, though neither of them
particularly excelled at whist. In recent years, however, Sir George had been
too tired and withdrawn in the evenings to suggest it.
"We have nine, so we can take turns at one
table, or two can play as one," Lord Rushford suggested.
But Uncle Mercer headed for the door, saying,
"No need, for I can't stay. I have several matters to attend to after
taking most of the evening for pleasure. No, Harold, you stay and play,"
he added when his son made as if to join him.
"We have just eight, then, which is
perfect," Sir George exclaimed, motioning for Griffith and young Jonas,
who was playing footman tonight, to set up the tables. A few minutes later,
they all settled down to play.
Sir George had insisted that he and Tessa play
at different tables, much to her frustration, as that would prevent her keeping
as close an eye on her father as she'd have liked. Even worse, she was now
trapped in close proximity with both Lord Anthony and her cousin Harold, the
imposing Mr. Turpin making up their fourth.
Anthony, on the other hand, was perfectly
content with the grouping, as it would give him an opportunity to learn more
about this rather intriguing family.
"How long have you worked as trainer for
Sir George?" he asked young Mr. Emery as the first hand was dealt.
The fellow shot him a suspicious glance before
answering, reinforcing his opinion that the man bore watching. "Just over
two years," he said. "I took over when my— when the old trainer
died." He glanced quickly at Miss Seaton, then away.
Anthony remembered what Porrington had claimed,
so was able to divine what Harold Emery had almost said. "I take it your
father oversees your efforts?" he asked then, not wishing to pursue a
topic that might make Miss Seaton uneasy.
The other man shrugged. "He oversees the
whole estate, but he lets me handle the horses as I see fit."
"Will you be riding in the hunt this
season, Mr. Emery?" Thor asked, arranging the cards in his hand.
Emery shook his head. "I haven't time for
such nonsense. That is—I'm very busy with the stables." Anthony thought he
looked distinctly uncomfortable, but whether from his rude slip or because he
wished to avoid the topic of the hunt, he couldn't say.
They settled down to play then, but after a few
tricks, Anthony tried another tack. "Much as he enjoyed the hunt, and
clearly still enjoys hearing about it, I'm surprised Sir George hasn't found a
way to watch it occasionally," he said to Miss Seaton.
Frowning, she missed her turn, realized it,
apologized, then said, "Pray do not put such an idea into my father's
head, my lord. I fear an evening such as this will be tiring enough for him."
"Do you mean to say he never leaves the
house at all?" Anthony asked in surprise.
She shook her head. "Never since his
accident. How would he, after all? Stairs alone are a barrier to him, as you
can see."
A barrier she had learned to make use of, Anthony
suspected, remembering the evidences of financial hardship he had seen on the
ground floor that were lacking on this one. "The wings of the house —do
they require navigating stairs for access from this floor?" he asked to
test his theory.
"Well, yes," she replied with evident
surprise. "There is a half-flight up to the west wing and a half-flight
down to the east. Why?"
He sent her what he hoped was a disarming smile
as he shrugged. "I merely wondered how limited Sir George's world had
become since the accident. It must be hard for a man who was
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