Joseph wanted to ask if he looked like the man who fathered him, but could not. With effort, Joseph fought off all thoughts of the man who fathered him. Instead, he watched the baby stare up, captivated by his mother. Joseph, too, knew what it felt like to look into her blue eyes.
He considered what to ask next. He was far more interested in the baby, and even more so in Tessa’s new role as a mother, than he had expected. It was an understatement to say he had never given much thought to fatherhood. He had not known his own father, and the Earl of Falcondale, who had brought him up in many ways, was far more like an older brother.
Joseph wondered what, specifically, fathersdidfor or to newborn infants? His only thought was to provide for the child and for his mother. His mind leapt immediately to the money he’d left to sustain Tessa and Christian while he was away. Had it been enough? He wondered suddenly where the child slept. Was his crib sturdy and safe? Could there possibly be a proper nursery in the Boyds’ small Belgravia townhome?
Christian wore a spotless white gown, but did Tessa have what she needed in the way of tiny garments for the child? What of this quilt on which they now sat? The picnic basket with leather-and-brass handles and the food inside it?
He was overwhelmed, suddenly, with the impulse to be some part of the small family before him, but he was so very uncertain about how. Were finances an appropriate way to start? Joseph cast around for some inroad.
“What do you enjoy most about being a mother?” he finally asked. It was one of a painfully short list of questions he’d stayed up half the night to compose.
Tessa blew out a breath, sending the wisps of hair fluttering around her face. “Oh, there is only one good thing about being a mother.” She swept the baby off the blanket. “And that is this little dollop.” She kissed the baby on the neck and Christian let out a happy shriek. He flailed his chubby arms like he was trying to fly.
“All the rest is quite a lot of hard work, I’m afraid,” she said. She set the baby on her lap, facing Joseph. He settled in, entitled to the spot. He chewed on his fist, considering Joseph with half-lidded eyes.
Tessa went on, “Getting up in the night, washing and mending baby clothes, bathing him, feeding him, trying to fit my own meals and mending when he sleeps. And then of course fitting in my work at St. Katharine. I am lucky because I have Perry to help me, and she loves him like a sister. Our shared love for him drives it all.” She looked away, staring out across the park. “I love him even when he is screaming at the top of his lungs, dirty, and it is the middle of the night.”
She shook her head, as if dislodging a memory, and returned her gaze to Joseph. “I did not expect to love him quite so much, honestly. I cannot find words to do it justice. And he doesn’t even reallydomuch of anything—not yet. He does not speak, he does not show preferences for anything more than meals and a dry nappy and me. He is indifferent even to his toy goose, but Willow sent it, and I would love him to eventually attach himself to it. Even with all of that, he is—” She paused and kissed the top of his head. “I would endure any amount of sleepless drudgery for him. And my love for him is so... comprehensive, I know that I shall endure any hardship, for the rest of my life, to provide for him, even though I know nothing of the boy or man he will become.”
She took a deep breath. “But it cannot be said enough, I have Perry to help me, and in this I am so fortunate. Thank you for the money you left for her salary, by the way.” She smiled gratefully as if the money had been remotely enough.
The baby began to croon, a low, gurgling noise that began comical and pleasant but soon dissolved into a cranky, dispirited fuss. Tessa bobbed her leg, gently bouncing him up and down, but his fussy croon began rising to a low cry, then a wail.
“Ah, are you tired, Dollop?” she asked, kissing him on the cheek. She smiled up at Joseph. “If I push him home in the pram, he will fall asleep. Will you—?” She paused and turned the baby over her shoulder, patting his back. “Do you have time to walk us home?”
“Of course,” he said, shoving up.
“Oh, lovely, thank you,” she said, sounding surprised and happy. He wondered if it was the only correct thing he’d said all afternoon.
“Will you hold him while I pack up the basket?”
“I—ah...”
Before Joseph could qualify his hesitation, Tessa thrust the fussing baby at him, and he was given little choice but to receive him. He wrapped his hands around his thick middle and held him out like a muddy dog. The baby’s wail paused, mid-crescendo, and Joseph Chance stared at the boy, blue eyes to blue eyes. The baby blinked. He crinkled his nose and formed his mouth into a little O. He opened his wet eyes very wide. His expression seemed to say,Who the devil are you?
“Who, indeed, mate?” Joseph said lowly, and he felt something break off inside of his chest and fall into the pit of his stomach.
Tessa chuckled. “Tuck him into your arm,” she said. “Here. Like this.”
She came beside Joseph and spun the baby in his hands to pull Christian to the crook of his arm. “There you are. Now support him under his bum.”
Joseph allowed her to guide him while Christian resumed his wail in honor of Joseph’s obvious incompetence. Tessa ignored the infant’s outrage, and Joseph felt himself relax. He watched her situate the baby in his arms, straighten his gown, and pat him on his head.
She’d not touched Joseph since he’d returned, not really, and now she eased him around with gentle pats and tugs. He could smell her soft, floral scent. His body pulsed at every point of contact. He fought the urge to step closer. The baby reached out to her, and he had the ridiculous urge to reach out for her, too.
She moved away, seemingly unaffected, to pack the basket. The baby’s temper fit rose, but Joseph was transfixed by the sight of Tessa’s fluid, unhurried ministrations. She crawled on her hands and knees, offering an eye-blinking view of her bottom as she tossed crockery into the basket. The quilt was not precisely folded so much as loosely halved and quartered. She held it to her nose to breathe deeply before she piled it beside the picnic basket.
“Sabine made this quilt for us,” Tessa told him. “Isn’t it lovely? I thought it was too pretty to spread on the ground, but she insisted that we use it. Now it’s taken on the smell of summer grass and soft earth, and I love it even more.”
She held a half-eaten cake between her lips while she repacked sundry picnic items. Every few minutes she paused to take a bite, closing her eyes in simple pleasure.
“I’ve offered you nothing,” she laughed, popping the last bite into her mouth. “How very rude of me. The Boyds’ cook packed a full tea.”
“I came to meet the baby,” he said.
Tessa laughed again, climbing to a stand and reaching for her son. “Well, you’ve met him. Come here, Dollop. You’ve shouted quite enough at your papa—” She froze, her blue eyes huge on Joseph’s face. “I’m sorry. I... That is, Perry and I have been referring to you as Papa when we talk to the baby.”
“I’ve done so very little to earn that title, I’m afraid,” he said. The words were out before he thought about them. A relief. The truth.
