Tessa sighed. “Yes, we placed the advert on a lark, you answered on a lark, you sought me out on a lark. It’s all a great lark—”
“Until it’s no lark at all,” he cut in. Tessa held her breath.
He said, “That is, until I saw you. From that moment, I’ve scarcely been able to believe my incredibly good fortune. Was it a lark or was it... fate?”
She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. “I’ve not stopped thinking of you since the moment we parted in the village,” he said. “I am beguiled and dazzled by you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Does it alarm you to hear me say this?”
Slowly, as if in a daze, Tessa shook her head.
He continued, “Unless I am sorely mistaken, unless I cannot trust my unerring instincts—which are always right, by the way—yes, we are in agreement.”
Tessa closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks.
“Should I take your closed eyes and tense expression to mean that you are quietly reconciling yourself to me?” he teased.
She laughed and blinked up at him. “No, no. Take them to mean that you have made me very happy.”
He nodded and turned again down the path, leading her along. The silence was charged with a playful, uncertain anticipation. Tessa cleared her throat and said, “Were you aware that practically no one outside the family is invited to my mother’s garden for tea? No one. Clearly my parents are impressed.”
“Is that so?” he said and whistled. “Honestly, I cannot believe I was admitted to the front door. Your home is lovely, by the way.”
Tessa glanced at the green, stately beauty of her mother’s gardens. She’d never cared less about Berymede. “Thank you,” she said, and she snuggled more tightly to him.
Joseph licked his lips. “I’m in trouble.”
“Why?” A shy smile.
“The expression on your face.”
“And what expression is that?”
He hesitated for a moment, and then he leaned in, so close Tessa could smell the musky scent of his soap. He whispered, “The suggestion that you would like to see more of me than my face.”
Tessa knew she should gasp, she should go rigid or pull away. Instead, she swayed closer. Her face hovered just inches from his; she looked up from beneath lowered lashes.
“Perhaps I do,” she whispered.
He swore then, a soft frustrated oath, and then swiped his lips across her mouth. Once, twice.
Tessa closed her eyes, allowing the feeling of what she wanted and what she needed to intertwine and wrap around her. She felt safe for the first time since the tree. Perhaps she had never felt so safe.
A bird called in the distance, and Joseph cleared his throat. He swore again. Before she had even opened her eyes, he was tugging her down the path.
“Miss St. Croix,” he began.
“Tessa,” she corrected.
“Tessa. There is one essential thing that I did not fully explain to your parents, but I will. First, I should like you to know.”
Oh, let us not reveal bald truths,Tessa thought, but she nodded.
“It was my intention to present myself as a gentleman today. To dress and speak like an educated man of means and breeding.”
Tessa nodded again. No description could be more accurate.
He went on, “In many ways—my house in London, my carriage, other trappings of dress and comportment—these all suggest that I am, indeed, a gentleman. But be aware...” and now he stopped walking and looked down at her “...that none of these areinheritedpossessions. They have been earned. By me. By my own hands—hard work, wits, and ambition.”
He paused, watching for some reaction. Tessa was confused. She shook her head.
