Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Tessa’s gown clung to her limbs uncomfortably and awkwardly.
No shift, no stays, limbs damp from the lake and wobbly from a kiss.
She’d stripped herself down to the bone and he’d joined her, stroking his heat and strength across the lake to hold her tight and kiss her like she was his tomorrow.
He’d called himself her suitor, said he wanted her.
The old Remmy—she trusted him implicitly. This new one—he was a one-man play. Was this another act in a string of performances?
Tessa entered the house through the back and took a half hour to dress, untangle, and dry her hair as well as she could. By the time she was presentable, there was a knock on her door. She flung it open to find a maid mid curtsy.
“Miss, your parents are asking for you downstairs.”
“Yes, I’m on my way!” She took the stairs slowly, smoothing the wrinkles in her blue, striped day gown and steadying her breath.
She found everyone gathered in a small sitting room on the first floor.
Remmy sat at the pianoforte, playing the tune he’d been whistling in the garden the day before.
He saw her as soon as she entered and gave her a wink that almost sent her to her knees.
“Tessa!” Lady Chattaway hooked their arms together. “I have just had the privilege of meeting your parents. Delightful individuals.”
This was a nightmare. The room was occupied not only by her very proper parents, but also by the most scandalous people she knew—her employer, Lord Brawly, and the June Rake.
Much of Remmy’s immediate family filled out the numbers—his parents, Timothy, Kit, Nora and Daphne, and their children.
A decidedly odd gathering Tessa would never have put together on her own. A disaster waiting to happen.
But she let Lady Chattaway tug her into the fray, lean close, and whisper, “I know you’re not keen on Tilbury, but your parents adore him. While they are about, give him a chance to impress you.”
Tessa nodded then smiled brightly because they were joining a group seated in a small circle. On one side was Lady Crossvale and Daphne, on the other Tessa’s mother and Verity.
“Oh, there you are, Tessa dear,” Lady Crossvale said, extending a hand toward an empty chair.
Tessa’s mother peered at her from over the top of a teacup, eyes cloudy, hesitant. What did that mean? Forgiveness?
“I was just telling your mother”—Lady Crossvale motioned for a maid to pour Tessa tea—“that I am glad we can meet as friends”
“I am grateful you found such a suitable position for my daughter,” her mother said. “It is clear that Lady Chattaway has had a beneficial influence on her.”
Tessa made a startled bark of a sound before hiding it behind her hand. “Apologies. Hiccups.”
Verity giggled.
Their mother’s glance was so sharp, she might have cut Verity’s head clean off.
Tessa’s spine straightened and Verity’s smile became a thin line.
“I, too, am pleased,” Tessa said and meant it.
“I find Mr. Tilbury quite pleasing,” her mother said, looking across the room where that man stood with the earl, Lord Brawly, and Tessa’s papa.
Remmy’s playing grew louder, a bit off-key.
Lady Crossvale winced. “Remmy! Pianissimo, my dear.”
He played more softly.
Lady Chattaway set her teacup on her saucer with a jarring clash. “I must tell you, Mrs. King, how much of a blessing your daughter has been these six years.”
“I am glad she was not a burden,” her mother answered.
Tessa wanted to melt through the floorboards. “I was grateful to have you, Lady Chattaway.”
Tessa’s mother considered Tessa over the rim of her cup. “I do have fond memories of early mornings. We would sit in the east parlor and write letters.”
Tessa clutched her hands in her lap. “I remember those mornings fondly, too.”
“Do not speak so softly,” her mother said. “Mr. Tilbury needs a clear-spoken wife.”
Silence, thick and awkward, broken only be a series of discordant notes as Remmy’s fingers slipped on the keys of the pianoforte.
Lady Crossvale cleared her throat then said, “I did not know, Tessa, that you had accepted a proposal.”
“I… I…” She could feel the heat of her mother’s gaze, the weight of her expectations. Then there was this: What do you want? “I… I…”
“She will,” her mother said. “Do not worry, Mr. Tilbury. She’s a good girl.”
An elbow must have hit the pianoforte keys because the instrument produced a sound of utter destruction.
“He’s not very good, is he?” Tilbury laughed, and that seemed to fill the room with air again.
“Usually he’s much better,” Tessa said, rushing toward him. “He must be out of sorts.”
“Verity should play instead.” Her mother pushed Verity toward the pianoforte.
Verity dug in her heels. “No, no. I’m not—”
“Go.”
Verity slumped, but she obeyed, and Remmy helped her choose music and situate herself. He was grinning and charming and set Verity at ease so she was smiling again. Verity began to play with wobbly notes and Remmy’s encouragement.
Tessa’s mother said, “Tessa could never play. She never wanted to.”
Tessa braced for further insult.
“But,” her mother continued, “I still have a little song she wrote when she was about Verity’s age. About a nest of eggs, one of them cracked.” She met Tessa’s gaze with a wistful smile that made Tessa’s heart too big for the ribs that caged it.
Verity missed a note.
“Really, Verity,” her mother snapped, “You were better yesterday.”
Tessa’s heart shrank back to size, practically withered, and she joined Verity at the pianoforte with Remmy. Tilbury followed.
“You’re doing wonderfully well,” she assured her sister.
The corner of Verity’s lips twitched, nothing more.
Remmy patted Verity’s shoulder. “I keep telling her that.”
“It’s difficult to perform for an audience,” Tilbury said.
Remmy nodded, in complete agreement.
And Verity—she’d recovered completely.
Tilbury turned to Tessa. “You have been busy with other guests for the last few days, I was hoping you might walk with me tomorrow morning.”
She glanced at Remmy, who was entirely focused on turning pages of the music for Verity, but his back was stiff and his toe tapped.
Her father nodded, pride shining in his eyes.
And her mother beamed her approval. “She’d love to. In fact, we’ll return in the morning, indulge in a family excursion.”
That sounded particularly excruciating. But Tessa smiled. What else could she do with such an audience? “Yes. Lovely.”
She could not be sure, but Lady Chattaway might have groaned, and when Tessa glanced at her, it was in time enough to see a frowning Lady Crossvale smack her friend’s arm.
“Excellent,” Tilbury said.
“Yes, excellent,” her mother repeated. “We’ll see the both of you tomorrow. Verity! Come now. We’re off.” She stopped before the countess. “Thank you for your hospitality. And for nurturing a more sensible Tessa King to return to us.”
They left, Verity wiggling her fingers at Aria before she disappeared behind her parents.
“They’re lovely,” Tilbury said quietly. “I wish I could have had a word or two with your sister.”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps tomorrow.”
“Yes, tomorrow.” Tessa rubbed her forehead. “I think I have a headache coming on. Would you mind if I slipped away to rest before dinner?”
“Not at all.” He sketched a bow, and Tessa made her way upstairs, closed herself into the lovely room that did not belong to her and tried to shake away the feeling that the walls were closing in on her. She’d discovered the boundaries of her painting.
What do you want?
She felt it, deep down, yet so close—what she wanted most. She ached for it.
She wanted to be free.
Free as a naked body bobbing in the water.
Free as a cry flung to the sky.
Free as a kiss in the shadows, scented with the summer heat.
And she wanted something else, too, more than that. But it was like being too close to a detail on a painting. She had no idea what it was.