once so active to
be confined to one section of one floor."
"Oh, he's a great reader, is Sir
George," Harold Emery put in cheerfully when Miss Seaton did not at once
respond. "He seems happy enough puttering about with his books and papers,
don't he, Tessa?"
Anthony thought her smile seemed forced.
"Yes. Yes, he does. I fear they have bested us this hand, Mr.
Turpin," she said, gathering up the cards as the next deal was hers.
"I will strive to pay better attention to the next."
"That is our rubber," she said an
hour later. She had indeed paid more attention to the cards— helped, no doubt,
by Anthony staying clear of topics that flustered her—and had played much
better as a result.
For himself, Anthony wasn't sure any level of
play on his part could have compensated for Harold Emery's inferior
understanding of the game. As they were playing for points rather than pounds,
he'd stifled his frustration with his partner by watching the delectable Miss
Seaton at her play and by listening carefully to what little conversation went
forth.
There was a tension between Miss Seaton and her
cousin that he was certain went beyond different theories on horse training
—but then, he'd surmised as much when he'd interrupted them just after dinner.
Young Emery had been threatening her in some way, he was almost sure of it.
He was determined to discover exactly how.
The other table ended their rubber a moment
later, and though Sir George at once suggested another, Anthony could detect a
trace of weariness in his voice.
"You are most kind, sir, but I believe we
have imposed upon your hospitality long enough." When his host would have
protested, he added, "Remember, your daughter was up early today for the
hunt, and rode hard for several hours this morning. I'm certain she would not
thank us for keeping her longer from her bed."
The grateful glance Miss Seaton sent him was
almost worth the sacrifice of leaving her side so early.
"Why, I had quite forgotten that,"
Sir George said, looking at his daughter. "How thoughtless of me, Tessa,
dear. Are you so tired, then?"
She rather elaborately stifled a yawn. "I
confess I am beginning to flag a bit, Papa, after such a long, full day."
That settled the matter and the gentlemen rose
to take their leave with many exclamations of gratitude for an enjoyable
evening.
"Perhaps the Odd Sock Club may return the
favor and have you to dinner at Ivy Lodge, Sir George," Stormy suggested,
oblivious to the sudden alarm on Miss Seaton's face.
Anthony saw Thor nudge Stormy, but Sir George
was looking thoughtful. "Perhaps that might be pleasant, if it can somehow
be contrived." He glanced impatiently down at his chair. "It may be
easier to have you all here again soon, however."
"I'm betting these fellows can get you in
and out of a carriage, should you wish to come," Killer volunteered.
"We'd love a chance to show you about the place, wouldn't we,
Anthony?"
Caught between the urge to help Sir George and
his reluctance to distress Miss Seaton, Anthony nodded cautiously. "I'm
sure it can be managed, should you wish to come —and should Miss Seaton think
it wise. I would invite you as well, Miss Seaton, but Ivy Lodge is a bachelor
establishment, I fear."
"I quite understand," she said
stiffly, her anxious eyes on her father. "Now, do allow me to see you all
to the door."
Clearly, she was hoping that once they were
gone, Sir George would forget the idea of leaving the house, but Anthony was
not at all certain that he would —or that he should. He waited until his
friends had all said their goodbyes so that he could be the last to take leave
of Miss Seaton.
"I'm sorry if you feel our visit was a
strain on your father," he murmured as he bent over her hand. "I
believe you will find that he benefited from it on the whole, however."
She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and
troubled. "Would that you were right, my lord, but I fear he may have
overestimated his strength. It has been many years since he
be confined to one section of one floor."
"Oh, he's a great reader, is Sir
George," Harold Emery put in cheerfully when Miss Seaton did not at once
respond. "He seems happy enough puttering about with his books and papers,
don't he, Tessa?"
Anthony thought her smile seemed forced.
"Yes. Yes, he does. I fear they have bested us this hand, Mr.
Turpin," she said, gathering up the cards as the next deal was hers.
"I will strive to pay better attention to the next."
"That is our rubber," she said an
hour later. She had indeed paid more attention to the cards— helped, no doubt,
by Anthony staying clear of topics that flustered her—and had played much
better as a result.
For himself, Anthony wasn't sure any level of
play on his part could have compensated for Harold Emery's inferior
understanding of the game. As they were playing for points rather than pounds,
he'd stifled his frustration with his partner by watching the delectable Miss
Seaton at her play and by listening carefully to what little conversation went
forth.
There was a tension between Miss Seaton and her
cousin that he was certain went beyond different theories on horse training
—but then, he'd surmised as much when he'd interrupted them just after dinner.
Young Emery had been threatening her in some way, he was almost sure of it.
He was determined to discover exactly how.
The other table ended their rubber a moment
later, and though Sir George at once suggested another, Anthony could detect a
trace of weariness in his voice.
"You are most kind, sir, but I believe we
have imposed upon your hospitality long enough." When his host would have
protested, he added, "Remember, your daughter was up early today for the
hunt, and rode hard for several hours this morning. I'm certain she would not
thank us for keeping her longer from her bed."
The grateful glance Miss Seaton sent him was
almost worth the sacrifice of leaving her side so early.
"Why, I had quite forgotten that,"
Sir George said, looking at his daughter. "How thoughtless of me, Tessa,
dear. Are you so tired, then?"
She rather elaborately stifled a yawn. "I
confess I am beginning to flag a bit, Papa, after such a long, full day."
That settled the matter and the gentlemen rose
to take their leave with many exclamations of gratitude for an enjoyable
evening.
"Perhaps the Odd Sock Club may return the
favor and have you to dinner at Ivy Lodge, Sir George," Stormy suggested,
oblivious to the sudden alarm on Miss Seaton's face.
Anthony saw Thor nudge Stormy, but Sir George
was looking thoughtful. "Perhaps that might be pleasant, if it can somehow
be contrived." He glanced impatiently down at his chair. "It may be
easier to have you all here again soon, however."
"I'm betting these fellows can get you in
and out of a carriage, should you wish to come," Killer volunteered.
"We'd love a chance to show you about the place, wouldn't we,
Anthony?"
Caught between the urge to help Sir George and
his reluctance to distress Miss Seaton, Anthony nodded cautiously. "I'm
sure it can be managed, should you wish to come —and should Miss Seaton think
it wise. I would invite you as well, Miss Seaton, but Ivy Lodge is a bachelor
establishment, I fear."
"I quite understand," she said
stiffly, her anxious eyes on her father. "Now, do allow me to see you all
to the door."
Clearly, she was hoping that once they were
gone, Sir George would forget the idea of leaving the house, but Anthony was
not at all certain that he would —or that he should. He waited until his
friends had all said their goodbyes so that he could be the last to take leave
of Miss Seaton.
"I'm sorry if you feel our visit was a
strain on your father," he murmured as he bent over her hand. "I
believe you will find that he benefited from it on the whole, however."
She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and
troubled. "Would that you were right, my lord, but I fear he may have
overestimated his strength. It has been many years since he
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