It hadn’t occurred to her that Joseph would collect her in a phaeton, open to the cool air, nimble and quick. In truth, she hadn’t thought much about how they would travel or even where they would go—she simply wanted to see him.
She’d heard nothing from him for a full day after Vauxhall, and the hours of silence had been agonizing. Despite the trauma of the night, Tessa had enjoyed the outing and felt closer to Joseph than she had since Berymede, and she missed him. She’d missed him when he was in Barbadoes, but this was a far more urgent, specific longing. She missed the smell of him, the sound of his voice, she missed telling him about Christian’s antics of the day.
She’d passed the long day of missing him by scripting the perfect introduction to a conversation about leaving Belgravia, how and where and when. It pained her to address this, in theory and in earnest, but the longer she put off this discussion, the more it felt like the confession of her pregnancy all over again, this great secret she’d known all along but concealed.
Before Joseph had returned from Barbadoes, she’d worried the request would sound demanding and greedy. Now that he was back, she worried that her request would come off like a ploy to escape him.
Escaping him was the last thing she wished to do, but she could hardly invite herself and her baby to join his life in earnest. She wasn’t even sure what he intended next for the guano venture. Here, too, she’d been too afraid to ask.
But no more. Tessa Chance did not enjoy the luxury of an uncertain future. She was a mother with an infant son, and they could not live with the Boyds forever. The topic must be raised. Today. On this very outing.
“Perry was thorough in teaching you how to put Christian down for his nap, I presume?” she asked Joseph as he steered the horses down Lower Belgrave Street.
“Thorough?” he repeated. The two horses were lively, probably more accustomed to open country roads than the crush of city streets. Reining them in took considerable concentration.
“Come now,” she said. “Christian’s naptime routine boasts no fewer than ten steps. And Perry is nothing if not precise. Surely you learned something.”
He chuckled but did not smile. His eyes remained on the road. They rounded Hyde Park and took James Street in the direction of Westminster Bridge. They clipped along in an exhilarating mix of plodding slowness and bolting speed.
When a runaway horse darted into their path, Joseph reined in. Tessa saw it too late to steady herself, and she spilled against him. It was like colliding with a warm, muscled pillar in soft, wool clothing. His hands were occupied with the reigns and she splayed out, grabbing for any handhold—his thigh, the lapel of his jacket.
“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes on the road.
She nodded, picking her way back to her seat with the slowest, most lingering progress. She wasn’t certain, but she thought she heard him clear his throat. Had he shifted in his seat? Did the proximity thrill him as it did her? Tessa considered this and was careful not to break her fall again. Each lurch bumped her against his shoulder and bicep, his muscled thigh. Her body pinged and sparked on impact, like a blacksmith’s hammer connecting with the anvil.
Vauxhall had reunited her with the contained power of his body, although her desire to touch him had lingered since their time at Berymede. She’d washed nappies, knitted baby caps, and pushed the pram for miles, fantasizing about the feel of his strong hands kneading the knots from her shoulders, grazing her knuckles against her neck, tracing her chin, pulling her face to his.
And then he came back.
And it seemed they would never touch again.
But Vauxhall had disproved this in a way, and now she struggled to remember her prepared remarks about moving away. She watched the road instead, anticipating the sharp turn or erratic traffic that would spill her up against him.
“Tessa...” he began. Something about the way he said her name made her feel like she was on the swing at Berymede.
“Yes?”
“Are you aware how much I admire you for the life you have made for yourself and the baby? Everything you have achieved astounds me. The baby, the dockyard.Admirationis an insufficient word for what I feel.”
“Admiration...” she repeated. Perhaps she had been the only one thinking about touching.
Traffic opened up, and they careened around the turn onto York Street. She held to his leg with both hands.
“That said,” he went on, but his voice broke.
He feels it,she thought, and she couldn’t resist giving the coiled muscle of his thigh a slight squeeze.
He cleared his throat and started again. “That said, I hate the thought of you living in the Boyds’ cellar. Soon the mornings will bring the frost, after that comes the snow of winter. I lay awake last night, wondering if you were warm. If you had proper light. I... don’t—”
He paused and lifted her gloved hand from his thigh and pressed it to his chest. Tessa stared at his hand over hers. She felt the beat of his heart, stronger and more rapid than the horse’s hooves.
He began again. “I don’t like you and the baby living in any cellar.” He glanced at her, his blue eyes intent. “If I’m being honest, I don’t like it at all.”
Tessa’s eyes sank closed.Thank God.She forced her brain to recall the details of her proposed move.
Joseph pressed on. “I am aware that I was selfishly ignorant of the arrangement while I was away, but now that I’ve seen it, I should like to discuss some... alternative.”
Tessa paused, gathering her thoughts. What she said next was so very crucial. She curled her fingers around his hand and squeezed.
