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all to dinner at the Swan tonight?"
     
    * *
     *

    "What did you tell that lordling that
brought him running with his high-and-mighty friends and their
accusations?" Mercer Emery demanded the moment they were out of the house.
    Tessa stared at her uncle. "I didn't tell
him a thing. Why should you assume I did?"
    "Harold said you mentioned seeing him with
Zephyr."
    She hadn't exactly told her cousin that, but as
it was true, she didn't deny it. "I merely helped him last night when
Zephyr bolted. I didn't so much as give him my name, as I was in breeches at
the time. Thank goodness he didn't see fit to mention that to Papa just
now."
    Harold snorted. "You must have said
something, else why would he have come here the very next day?"
    "He obviously asked Mr. Ballard where he
bought the horse," she replied calmly. "I told you it was a bad idea
to sell horses before they're properly trained."
    "You know nothing of it. The gentlemen at
those clubs auction off their mounts to the highest bidder after every hunt,
and no one worries whether that day's ride was typical of the horse or not.
Right, Father?"
    Uncle Mercer nodded. "Your own father will
say the same."
    Tessa frowned. "That seems remarkably
foolish. Most are educated gentlemen, are they not? Hunting is scarcely a poor
man's sport."
    Uncle Mercer gave a bark of laughter. "A
rich man can be as foolish as a poor one when he's drunk enough. These young
bloods have the money to spare, don't you worry. Look how your Lord Anthony
bought Zephyr off Mr. Ballard simply as a favor to a friend."
    Now she thought of it, Tessa realized that was
rather noble of Lord Anthony —or at least kind —but she knew better than to say
so. Her uncle and cousin had always regarded anything that went against one's
own self-interest as foolish. She'd argued that viewpoint with them in the
past, to no avail.
    "Speaking of those fine gentlemen,"
her uncle continued now, "I believe they will be our answer to convincing
your father to let you ride Nimbus on Monday. It's clear from what he said just
now that he'd like to bring you to their notice, and what better way than at
the hunt?"
    "But I thought—" Harold began, but
his father silenced him with a quick shake of his head.
    Though her heart skittered with excitement at
the thought, Tessa said, "Really, Uncle, it just isn't done these days.
Proper ladies never ride to the hunt."
    "Ah, but Sir George lives in the past, and
in the days of his youth it was not so uncommon. It's how he came to notice
your mother, you know."
    Tessa nodded, for she'd heard her father tell
the story many times. "I can't imagine he'll let me do the same— though I
do think it would be splendid if we could somehow revive the custom of women
riding to the hunt."
    They reached the stables then, and Harold
signaled one of the stablehands to bring Nimbus out. The man looked nervous,
and with reason, for when he reappeared a few minutes later, it was clear the
horse was in even worse temper than usual.
    "Having them strangers and their horses
down here a bit ago has set him in a rare fury, sir," he told them as he
and another man led Nimbus into the paddock.
    His words were superfluous, for the horse was
bucking against the lead, his ears laid flat against his skull and his lips
pulled back to reveal enormous teeth. As they watched, Nimbus swung his head
down and around to snap at the man on the right, who danced out of the way only
just in time. The horse gave a half-scream of frustration and tried to rear,
but was prevented by the curb bit in his mouth and the martingale, which kept
his head down.
    With a sigh, Tessa stepped forward. "Here,
give me the lead," she told the first man.
    "Are you sure, miss? Even you may have
trouble with him today. I've never seen him in such a temper."
    "I'll be careful," she said, reaching
out her hand for the lead. The man relinquished it and quickly stepped out of
reach of Nimbus's hooves. Harold and Uncle Mercer, she noted cynically,