“I’m told,” she went on, “that docking at St. Katharine is five times faster than any other dock on the river. You see how the cranes remove the barrels from the hold and swing them directly into the warehouse? From Point A to Point C. So efficient.”
“Indeed,” said Joseph, watching cranes rise barrels of guano lightly into the air, fly them across the dockyard and lower them onto a warehouse ramp. He cast a sideline glance at Tessa. She watched the same machination with cheeks flushed and eyes that sparkled.
I thought you enjoyed roses,he thought.And bunnies. And the sugar glaze on strawberry cake.
The auxiliary examiner clomped down the gangplank, studying his bill for the tax they would owe on their cargo. When he reached them, he faltered. His eyes darted uncertainly back and forth between Mr. Chance and Mrs. Chance.
“Do you mind?” Joseph asked Tessa respectfully. If she wished to facilitate the levy payment, he would not usurp her.
“Please,” she encouraged him. When the examiner handed the bill to Joseph, Tessa nodded to the man. “Thank you, Mr. Hammond. Is it what we expected?”
“Very nearly, Mrs. Chance,” said the examiner, walking on.
Without thinking, Joseph held out the bill so his wife could see it.
“Can you pay that sum?” she asked, looking at him. She winced a little. The levy they owed was not small by any stretch, but of course he had planned for this.
“I can pay it,” he said. The question did not irritate him so much as rile some unforeseen defensiveness. “Despite this being my first time at St. Katharine,” he went on, “Ihavebrought goods to port in the city of London before—hence my professional distinction asimporter. The expertise you’ve collected in three months’ quick study may seem like a lot of common sense to you, but—”
“Common sense?” she laughed. “Oh, Joseph. If only you knew the hours, thedaysI have spent at this dock, observing, taking notes, asking questions, making a nuisance of myself. Learning the very basics of what’s happened this morning has been like... like, like learning to fly. Please be patient with me.” She screwed up her face. “I’m still learning.”
Joseph shook his head. “I don’t mean to be impatient. I... I...” He blew out a breath. “My hesitation says it all, doesn’t it? I find myself rather speechless.”
She waited, and it occurred to him that he should find the words.
“It is astounding what you have accomplished,” he said. “You should... you should be very proud.”
It was a true statement, he was astounded. And she should be proud. Hell, he was proud and he had absolutely nothing to do with it.
Tessa beamed again, an expression that pierced his heart.
“And did you see? I’ve managed considerable savings compared to your previous arrangement. St. Katharine Docks is very keen to take business from West India, and the warehouse space was far less expensive.” She began flipping through her notes.
Joseph had done the calculations in his head in the long room. Shehadsaved them money. She had also negotiated more space and a longer time in port. This said nothing of the English-milled fabric she’d arranged for them to take under sail when they returned back to Barbadoes—also for a larger fee.
But the notion of returning to Barbadoes—a priority just one day ago—seemed suddenly wildly reckless, shortsighted, impossible. The loose plan had always been for Stoker and Joseph to return to the island. They had sailed with a full hold, but there was more guano to be had.
That said, it now felt precipitous for him to the Caribbean so soon. He’d achieved not one item from his Plan for the Future. He’d not called on the Earl of Falcondale, his mentor. His reunion with Tessa might have been accelerated, but had it been a properreunion? They’d discussed levies and warehouses, for God’s sake.
And what of her new manner and appearance and the way she bloody... passed her days? It was so far and away from what he had expected—literally nothing about her was as he had expected.
No, the script he’d anticipated for their discussion of His Future would have to be reconsidered. After more time spent together. Much more time.
He glanced at her. But did she wish to spend time with him outside of docks and warehouses? His eyes darted surreptitiously to her lips, the delicate line of her jaw, her perfect ear.
She startled him by gasping, “Oh!” She held up a finger. “I’ve a letter from Sabine that I’m meant to give to Mr. Stoker.” Her eyes widened conspiratorially. “Can you believe it?” she whispered.
I no longer know what to believe,he thought, but he simply shook his head.
It occurred to him that, more than anything, more than settling the warehouse space or contacting the buyers or making the rounds at all of his favorite London shops or calling on Falcondale, he wanted to solve the mystery of Tessa Chance. To finally, perhaps, truly understand her. Intimacy? Reconciliation? He would not yet allow himself to hope for those. He would begin with understanding.
It was a dangerous endeavor—she had already broken his heart once. Was it foolhardy to study the very qualities that had once enchanted him? Perhaps, but he struggled to see how she could rebreak an organ that had never fully healed. The resulting calluses would protect him, along with the bitter grudge he’d muscled on like a coat of armor for the past ten months.
She was, after all, his wife. Their futures, however impersonal, were forever linked. It was only fair to make some effort to understand her. And if he could also make peace with her, more’s the better.
He watched her call to Stoker from the gangplank and hand him the letter. Stoker studied it for the briefest second, frowned, and then shoved it in the pocket of his waistcoat. She gave a little wave and then returned to Joseph, her step light. She looked so very happy.
He considered various ways to ask her to meet him to discuss... something more. Despite his poetic regard for the calluses on his heart and the armor-like grudge, the thought of her rejecting his invitation made him sweat.
