She paused, staring into his pathetic face for a long moment, and then she turned and strode in the direction of Joseph’s voice. Her husband hovered, along with Jon Stoker, some ten yards away. There was a loaded, coiled bent to his posture, the stance of an animal waiting for the unlocking of his cage. There was a wildness in his eyes, a look she’d rarely seen but she knew. God help Neil Marking because of that look. Joseph did not reach for her when she approached him, but she had known he would not.
She raised her eyes and gave one casual nod of the head.
Yes. That is him.
Without a word, Joseph began stalk across the road to the man in the red coat, Stoker jogging to keep up.
Jeanie stood on the sidewalk where the men had waited. The nursemaid watched their progress with a gloved hand shading large, fascinated eyes.
Tessa did not turn around. She looked at the young woman. “Don’t be alarmed, Jeanie. The red-coated man is a criminal with an outstanding debt to Mr. Chance. Can you still see them?”
The nursemaid’s face brightened with interest. “Oh yes, I can see them quite well.”
Tessa leaned over the pram to fuss with the baby’s hat. “Can you tell me what they are doing?”
“Oh yes,” began Jeanie dramatically, “Mr. Chance has taken the man by one arm, and Mr. Chance’s friend has taken him by the other, and they’ve dragged him around the wall, out of sight. And oh!” the nursemaid went on, titillated, “Mr. Chance has yanked off his cravat and tossed it in the sand.”
Tessa nodded, taking up the handle of the pram and pushing toward Church Street. “Right,” she said. “Some days, he does not require a cravat.”
Epilogue
One year later....
Living so close to the ocean was nothing like living near the River Thames and even less like living in Surrey.
The weather was unpredictable and dramatic, the smell of salt and brine was ever present, and there were boats—oh so very many boats. Brigs and schooners, steamboats and ferries.
The fledgling dockyard that Tessa discovered in Hartlepool was on the cusp. It needed only the demand of Yorkshire coal—which the railroad voraciously provided—and a smart, efficient dock master, which Tessa soon embodied. Under her unlikely management, Hartlepool became one of the busiest and most prosperous ports on Britain’s east coast.
While some boats left, heavy laden with coal, others arrived with old friends. After the row with Captain Marking, Stoker set out for Barbadoes; he returned again the next summer with a third shipment of highly sought-after guano. In November, he set out again.
When Stoker had gone (and the dates of his departure triple-checked, as always), Sabine booked passage on a London steamship and visited Hartlepool. The Boyds had taken a holiday to Rome for the winter, and she planned to celebrate Christmas at Abbotsford Cottage with Tessa and her family.
Cassin and Willow visited often, although not by boat; the new railway from Yorkshire meant a journey of three hours. Cassin and Willow typically stayed only a day or so, but when Sabine came for the month, the earl and countess made a rare extended escape from their castle hotel so the ladies could enjoy a reunion. Sabine, Willow, and Tessa, the three Brides of Belgravia, together again.
“I’ve a letter for you, Sabine,” Tessa said, reaching across her desk. “Before he sailed, Stoker asked me to give it to you.”
The three women were gathered around the fire in the library that Tessa designated as her office at home. Outside the window, snow fell on the garden fountain, frosting it like a wedding cake.
“Oh, right. Thank you.” Sabine snatched the letter and tucked it beneath her skirts. She took a prolonged sip of tea.
Tessa and Willow shared a look.
“You and Mr. Stoker seem to carry on quite a lively correspondence,” suggested Tessa. She raised an eyebrow. “That is, for people who take such care never to interact in person.”
Sabine looked out the window.
Willow said, “And for people who also happen to bemarried.”
Sabine turned back, smiling. “Try if you must, but I’ll not be baited. We were meant to never see these men, remember?” She pointed a finger at Willow. “Youpromised. You said we would advertise for them and give them our dowries and then never bother with them again. I can’t help if the two of you spoiled the plan by falling in love. Jon Stoker and I have simply done as you promised.We’regoing by the designated rules.”
“You,”said Willow, “are hiding.”
Sabine shot her a look. “Yes, I am hiding. Hiding at a known address in a public city where I receive frequent mail from the man.” She waved the letter in the air.
“But what does he write you?” asked Tessa.
“Oh, it’s nothing personal, if that’s what you think. He’s being hounded by an old man in Mayfair who claims to be his long-lost father. When it is convenient, I run errands pertaining to this man’s harassment and pass along information to Stoker.”
