She shook her head, burrowing deeper into his cravat. “No, there was no danger. Drunk boys out for a lark.”
“You’re trembling. Did they touch you? My God, if they touched you—”
“No, no,” she said against his shirt. “I’m being foolish. I simply can’t—”
She stopped, uncertain of how to explain all the reasons she couldn’t manage the men on her own. Giving voice to her fears seemed worse than riding out the moment. She repeated, “I simply can’t.”
“I don’t understand,” said Joseph. “Simply cannot—what?”
An easy answer formed in her brain and she seized upon it. “I simply cannot dress in this manner, ever again,” she said.
“You can’t what?”
She repeated it, louder this time, and it felt very much like the truth. “It was my fault. This dress, this stupid dress. The elaborate braids. I invite unwanted attention because of my own... vanity.Iwas the reckless one. Reckless and selfish and vain.”
“Tessa—no. Stop.” Gently he pulled her from his chest. He took her by the shoulders and squared her to him. “These men were stupid with youth and drink and the sort of shared brain that boys acquire when they prowl around together in the night. They were harassing you for their own sport, despite the fact that they likely know better.Theyare at fault—and me, for leaving you alone. It’s nothing to do with you.” He pulled her hand from his lapel and kissed her knuckles.
She stared into the pergola. “It’s not....” She shook her head. She began again. “I told Perry I would wear the brown dress, that I would fade into the background and be unseen but safe.Safe.”
Joseph kissed her hand again. Tessa wanted to pull the spot to her lips.
She said, “But Perryhidthe brown dress and convinced me to wear this gown, which I have always loved. I... I wanted to feel beautiful just once more. I wanted you to... to see... I wanted—”
Her explanation dissolved. How had she managed to lose both the cleverness of the Old Tessa and the placid good sense of the New? She was a weak, simpering, third version of herself. Steeped in regret and shaking in Joseph’s arms. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Joseph craned his head, trying to see her downturned face. “Please tell me,” he said, “that you do not believe your beautiful blue dress and your lovely braided hair are the source of this harassment. Please tell me you do not believe it to be your fault.”
She blinked up into his blue eyes and tried to control the fresh tears. He sounded... shocked. His voice held such emphasis, she could not press her rebuttal again. She despised playing the victim.
Joseph continued, “I cannot think who or what put the idea of blame in your head, but you are wrong. I’ve seen roving bands of young men in every corner of the globe and I assure you that no pretty dresses are required to encourage their interest. They are listless and bored and their chief concern is impressing each other. No young woman would have escaped their boorish attention, unfortunately—not in any manner of dress, brown or otherwise.”
He paused, likely waiting for her to respond, but Tessa had used up her contribution to this discussion. To say more would only make the experience more horrible. She leaned into his chest and he closed his arms around her.
“Every man appreciates your beauty, Tessa,” he said softly. “No one more than me. Only these cretins had the poor judgment to approach you. And that is their mistake, their crudeness and inebriation. And mine, because I left you alone. I was sick with worry, Tessa, when I couldn’t find you—and now I see it was warranted. I returned to the clearing, but—”
“Oh, it was the play,” Tessa cut in, sitting up. “The terrible little play. Something about the production upset me. And the old woman—she, she was so meddlesome. I couldn’t remain. I know it was merely playacting, but—”
“Make no excuses, please. That production was the worst piece of amateur theatre I have ever had the misfortune of witnessing. And the woman? Our own friends struggle to characterize our relationship—evenIstruggle—so it’s difficult to take counsel from a gossipy stranger. Even so, it was unconscionable for me to leave you alone. I shudder to think what would have happened if I hadn’t found you.”
Tessa’s heart, already overworked from the night, clenched. What had he said? He struggled to characterize their marriage? It was hardly a declaration, but there was some... softness in the way he said it. Was it possible he felt more confusion than outrage? Tessa felt the same confusion. And hope. So much hope.
“I’m sorry I’ve dragged you to Vauxhall,” she said. It was a classic Old-Tessa machination. Despite the young men and the play and the old woman, of course she was not sorry at all.
“Don’t be silly. I’ve a mind to return tomorrow. Perhaps we should come every night until we get it right. I’d hate for your lasting impression to be drunken revelers and my threatening to stab them in the neck.”
She laughed at his suggestion. A proper laugh, devoid of fear or alarm. She wanted suddenly to crawl back into Joseph’s arms, and not because she was falling apart.
She thought of the way he fought back the young men. Of his confidence and strength. She thought about his different accent and the way he prowled the space. A small quiver of something unnamed but intriguing burned in her center. She wanted to kiss him. Desperately. To kiss like they had at Berymede. How had the Old Tessa accomplished this?
“Should we locate Sabine and Stoker?” Joseph was saying. He held out his hand. “You’re meant to meet her at nine o’clock, I believe?”
“Yes, I suppose we should.” She took his hand. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
The Old Tessa would simply get it done.Reach up and pull his face down.
But the New Tessa smiled and took his arm and walked modestly beside him, waiting forhimto reach up or pull down, waiting for him to make some show of affection for which he did not feel obligated or tricked or honor-bound to make.
Chapter Eighteen
