“And I want Joseph as he was. In the weeks before the wedding. I can forgive his reaction when I confessed. The things he said, the cold, bitter manner in which he hauled me to London and left me? It was truly awful, but what I’d done was so very regrettable. I understand, and I deserved awfulness, I suppose. But if he means to always behave this way, if this is hisfutureregard for me, I’m not sure I could abide him. I want him, but I will not feel forever resented, I cannot be merelytolerated.”
“Well said,” Sabine chuckled, smiling at her. “As you should not.”
Tessa added, “I could not allow even a sliver of resentment toward my son. Not a sliver.”
“No,” Sabine agreed. “Look, Tessa, no one is more committed to a solitary life than myself—you know this—but Willow and I both feel that you should have Joseph Chance if you want him. On your own terms, that is.”
Tessa nodded, putting her lips to Christian’s soft, warm forehead and pressing another kiss. She turned away, bouncing the baby gently against her.
“Mama loves Christian,” she whispered, squeezing him. “Be a good boy for Perry while I go out, alright?” The baby made the loud, shrill shriek, the contented squawk of a baby exploring the full capacity of his voice.
“Here, let me have him,” said Sabine. “Go. Show them all you’ve accomplished. You’ve been waiting nearly a year for this.”
Tessa kissed the baby again and handed him to Sabine with a grateful look. “Do you suppose Perry has located my eel-colored bonnet?”
Sabine danced the baby to the window. “Good lord, let us pray she has not.”
Chapter Thirteen
Joseph Chance paced back and forth at the gates to St. Katharine Docks, casting shrewd glances at the morning hustle. A rank-smelling crowd of laborers loitered behind him, shiftless in the wake of being passed over by the foreman. Hired men grunted and swore just inside the gates, applying their muscle to the backbreaking work of unloading cargo. Everywhere, drunken sailors wove in and out, staggered to vessels after a night on leave. Swabbing crews sloshed pails of filthy water and shipwrights cursed their apprentices. Up and down the quay, messdecks were emptied into the Thames with an intermittent chorus of heavy, slurpingplops.
“Absolutely no place for a woman,” Joseph ground out. “No place. It’s not safe. It’s not decent. It smells like... like... rot.”
“What did you expect?” drawled Stoker, leaning on the gatepost behind him. The smoke from his cheroot masked the other grime-and-gin-fueled odors that hung like a dead animal in the air.
“How could I have known she was dashing about the docks of London, trying to... trying to...?” Joseph swore, unable to define all that his wife seemed to have achieved in the months since he sailed away. Behind him, a drunken sailor emptied the contents of his stomach into a boot.
Joseph swore again and spun away. Stoker was correct, of course. WhathadJoseph expected? That St. Katharine Docks was somehow different from any other port in any other corner of the bloody world? Clean and tidy and populated with respectful, gentlemanly men?
They’d managed to dock the brig by sundown, but only just, and a moonless night had precluded Joseph’s opportunity to take a proper look around. It was a new dock after all, barely two years old, and known mostly for luxury goods. In the light of day, he could see that it wasexactlylike any other dock he’d known before, complete with vomiting sailors.
“Look sharp,” mumbled Stoker, and Joseph turned back.
There was a commotion at the far end of East Smithfield Street. Sailors shouted and leapt from the path of a briskly moving carriage. The driver, smartly dressed but not livered, ignored them, navigating the busy road as if he knew it well.
Tessa.It could be no other. It occurred to him suddenly that he had sailed from England without arranging a vehicle for her. In truth, he’d left England without providing for her in any tangible way, except a bit of money. The fine carriage must belong to Willow.
My wife has made her way around London in aborrowedconveyance.
To arrange formybusiness.
Shame burned his face. He’d felt so betrayed when he left, he had not thought beyond his own anger to consider how her daily existence would play out. In his view, Tessa had overtaken his life, what more could he give? In hindsight, he might have given any number of simple things, things that were negligible to him but would lend convenience and status to her difficult months ahead.
Joseph made a mental note to write to Cassin and Willow and ask to buy Willow’s carriage if Tessa liked it. Or perhaps he would have a new carriage built for the—
A footman leapt down from the bench and opened the door.
Joseph felt an unfamiliar gush of anticipation. He narrowed his eyes. There was movement inside carriage. He held his breath, he leaned in. He braced himself for—?
What?
The dock logistics she would now walk him through? Who anticipatedlogistics?
The balance of the money from the canceled slip? She could keep the money.
News of her move?
Her regret?
