As if handsome and clever and confident had not been enough.
When he turned up on Berymede’s front stoop by eleven o’clock the next morning, she thought only this:As if handsome and clever and confident had not been enough.
From her vantage point on the stairwell landing, Tessa found it difficult to separate gratitude from delight.
He swept inside, the consummate gentleman, greeting her parents with bows and handshakes. His attire and bearing were as fine as any of them had ever seen, even her mother, who made a study of the finery, and her brother Lucas, whose own meticulous tailoring and grooming was second to none. As promised, Joseph requested time alone with her father.
The door to the library closed, and Tessa shrank back, counting to ten. She listened, she said a quick prayer, she waited. Nothing. Silence. After five minutes, she slunk away.
In her room, the maid tried to distract her with various accessories—ribbons for her hair, a broach, a fan—but Tessa refused. She’d worn a pale dress, fawn-colored, with the barest hint of a golden thread. If yesterday’s pink dress had turned Joseph’s head, the gold dress of today was designed to make him unable to look away.
She’d held her breath while her maid buttoned her up, praying the gown still fit. Her middle thickened a little more each week. If the girl had noticed, she made no comment, thank God. Tessa and her friends had virtually no way to discover what to expect from the early stages of pregnancy. Sabine was an only child, and Willow had only older brothers. No one among their neighbors or families had welcomed a new baby for years. Pointed questions felt risky, like a suspicious level of interest, and so the three friends had simply guessed. Their best calculation put the baby’s arrival in late spring. The sooner Tessa found a husband, the better.
“Miss St. Croix?” Ten minutes after Joseph’s arrival, the Berymede butler knocked gently on her open door. “Your parents have summoned you to the garden, if you please. They are with the gentleman caller.”
“The garden?” Tessa repeated. The garden was her mother’s sanctuary, used almost exclusively for family gatherings or entertaining her closet friends. First-time callers were never invited to the garden.
And yet, Joseph Chance had been. He was seated beside her father and across from her mother in the autumn sunshine. He rose smoothly when he saw her.
“Miss St. Croix,” he said. His smile was mild, but he shot her a knowing look. She felt a somersault in her chest.
“Mr. Chance,” she said.
Her mother would expect Tessa to be poised and aloof, a little unattainable. But she struggled not to stare.
If she’d found him handsome the day before, with dusty hat, rumpled hair, and wrinkled suit, today he really did look like a prince from a book. He wore snug-fitting buckskins and a blue coat of the finest wool. The pattern on his waistcoat brought out the blue in his eyes; his cravat looked as if it had been sculpted in marble.
Tessa blinked, recovered, and then smiled demurely. It was no secret how he’d earned his mother’s invitation to the garden. Appearances meant everything to Isobel St. Croix, and Joseph Chance’s appearance said two things:I matter, andYou want me.
Yes,Tessa thought,I do want you.
“Ah, yes, here she is now,” her father called. “Tessa, you’ve finally stumbled upon a young man with some actual mettle and ambition. It’s about time, I daresay.” To Joseph he said, “No father should suffer the procession of worthless dandies who have paraded through my house.”
Tessa blushed. Had it really been aprocession?
Her father asked her, “I understand you are in the acquaintance of this gentleman?”
“Indeed, I am, Papa,” she said, leaning down to kiss her mother’s proffered cheek. “We met yesterday. In the village. He has business with Lady Willow’s family.”
Joseph nodded smoothly, endorsing the fiction. Her first earnest lie, and she’d made him complicit. She told herself it was for the baby. Everything was for the baby.
“I do value fine horseflesh,” Joseph improvised, “but my primary business is importation of goods to England from around the world. This is the partnership I mentioned earlier. My associates and I are working on a new venture—in Barbadoes, no less—about which I am very hopeful.”
“The devil you say?” said Tessa’s father. “But did Tessa’s brothers tell you that we are shareholders in the West India Docks in London? I sit on the board, in fact. We see vessels from Barbadoes every week. But will you reveal the details of your venture?”
And then they were off, discussing ships and levies and imports. Joseph spoke confidently, his experience and intellect plainly clear, while her father asked pointed questions and nodded along. When her mother asked about imported silks, Joseph recited the names of fabrics and dyes and sellers from the Orient and then guessed at the source of the silk of Isobel St. Croix’s morning dress. While Tessa’s mother enthused her delight, Tessa smiled down into her cooling cup of tea.
You will never tell him.
The thought, previously hovering somewhere in the back of Tessa’s consciousness, now loomed fully formed in the front of her mind. The second lie.
Or was it less of a lie, and more an... omission?
For the baby.
He came,she reminded herself.AndMamanand Papa like him, andIlike him. If he will consent to marry me, I will give my body to him, and there is no reason to tell him that the baby does not belong to him.
She repeated again,You will never tell him.Her palms began to itch, but she ignored them.Never, not ever.
