All Dressed in White EPB Read online

  Ultimately, a passing gentleman saved her from any reaction at all.

  “I beg your pardon, miss,” said a tall, fashionably dressed man drawing up beside her. “May I offer my assistance with your parcels?”

  Tessa smiled immediately (smiling at polite gentlemen was one habit she could not break), and she said, “How very kind you are, sir, but that won’t be necessary. I—”

  Suddenly the distance between herself and Joseph was not so great. He was beside her, his hand on her lower back. Tessa blinked at the warm pressure of his palm.

  Joseph told the man, “I’ve got them, thank you very much.”

  “I’ve asked the young lady,” said the gentleman.

  “Bugger off,” Joseph growled, jerking his chin in the direction of the street. He took Tessa by the elbow and began to hustle her along. “What letter?” he repeated.

  “I can walk unassisted, thank you very much,” she said, jerking her arm free.

  He grumbled an apology, but he was glaring at the other man over his shoulder.

  Tessa stopped walking. Joseph tried to unburden her of the boxes, but she clutched them to her. She took a deep breath. Even before the lists, she could not tolerate being rushed or bullied. When she explained what she’d done, she’d wanted the tone to be exactly, perfectly right. She’d wanted to be proficient and useful. She’d not planned to be defending herself.

  She shuffled her parcels and said, “You’ve been misinformed, Joseph. And I’m sorry. There has been no effective way to communicate with you in Barbadoes, as you well know. I’ve written you several times and left word at both the West India dock office and Waterman’s Steam Packet Company, which, as you know, operates the steam tug. The cancellations at the West India Docks could not be avoided. I’ve made new arrangements to salvage what I could of an efficient return to London.”

  He blinked down at her, almost as if he was seeing her, really seeing her, for the first time.

  Good, she thought, he is seeing me for the first time. And I am changed.

  She cleared her throat and imbued her voice with a rehearsed businesslike clip. “But I refuse to hash it out in the street. You will have to accompany me home to discuss it.”

  The old Tessa would have turned her nose in the air, spun on her heel, and marched away. The old Tessa would have expected him to rush after her. Now she simply waited.

  Joseph hesitated, and for a moment she thought he might refuse.

  “Right,” he finally said. His voice came out in a huff. “Home. To discuss it.”

  The exchange sounded like a concession, a concession between very formal, very irritated strangers, and Tessa supposed that was exactly what it was. Unfortunately, there were so many more formalities and irritations and concessions to come. But she had new priorities now, her infant son chief among them. If it had been only her, she would have joined a convent and retreated from society forever, carved out some safe place of solitude. But it had not been only herself. Christian was the center of her world now, and his future was all that mattered.

  They reached No. 22, the house in which she, her friends, and now her son lived with Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Boyd. The Boyds were the aunt and uncle of her friend Willow, and they had generously taken them in when all three girls came to London, newly married with husbands sailing across the Atlantic.

  The townhome was small but fashionable, one of the very first built in Belgravia. Tessa was nearly as grateful to Mary and Arthur for taking her in as she was to Joseph for marrying her. But despite the Boyds’ seemingly endless generosity, she could not impose forever. Her friend Willow had already moved to Yorkshire to be with her husband’s family. Willow’s aunt and uncle were dear, generous souls, but Tessa arrived on their doorstep as one person, and now she was a mother with a baby and a nursemaid. By springtime at latest, she and the baby must move on.

  “Mary and Arthur are calling on clients at the moment,” Tessa told Joseph, clipping up the steps and knocking for the butler to admit them. And the baby is napping, she added silently in her head. Joseph would eventually have to meet the child who bore his name, but good lord, one thing at a time.

  The butler admitted them and signaled for a footman to relieve her of her shopping. She unpinned her hat. Her hands shook, the movement appearing tense and jerky. Her heart raced like she’d sprinted home from the shops.

  She said, “Sabine is out—she’s always out—so we should be able to sit alone in the parlor, ring for tea, and discuss what’s happened.”

  “Forget tea,” Joseph sighed impatiently. “I prefer to get right to it, if you don’t mind.”

  Or, she thought, we will get right to it.

  The butler hovered discreetly, and she handed him her hat and pelisse and dismissed him. She turned back to Joseph. He looked prepared to shout, You did what? regardless of how she explained the new situation. She would not be intimidated by him, but she was a little saddened. She never meant for his return to be combative. She took a deep breath and resigned herself.

  “My parents traveled to London in late spring to call on me,” she said. It felt strange to tell this story while they hovered in the entryway, but she couldn’t force him to sit down. She’d forced him enough already.

  She continued, “By that time—this would have been May, I suppose—the baby had just arrived. Their visit took me completely by surprise.”

  She glanced up, hoping for reaction. Of course he had not yet inquired about the baby, about her lying or her life as a mother. He hadn’t asked anything about her except how he might dock his brig.

  She went on, “My parents were . . . shocked to discover a grandchild so soon after my marriage. As you know, you left the country within days of the wedding. It took very little time for them to count the months and conclude that there was no way that you could be the baby’s father.”

  And now he gave some reaction. It was not a generous reaction, no concern revealed, but at least the blank stoicism fell away. He had the look of a horseman who had come upon a dead tree in the road. Jump over it or rein in? Panic mingled with indecision. Finally, he said hoarsely, “What happened?”

  “I’ve been disowned,” she said. “That’s what happened. I’ve been evicted from the family.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She shook her head. “I wish there was a more pleasant way to say it, but ‘disowned’ seems to sum things up nicely. They will not receive me, support me, or acknowledge me. Or my son.” She took a deep breath. “Now will you sit down?”

  Chapter Nine

  Tessa’s parents’ rejection drained Joseph’s righteous indignation. It was the very last thing he expected her to say. She was meant to be cool and calculating. She was meant to be happily carrying on with her life, using his name. She was meant to be . . . if nothing else . . . well. Happy.

  Fine.

  He took a step back, trying to reconcile this news. Tessa’s face tightened.

  She said, “You’ve made it clear that you are a busy man, but I believe this conversation warrants at least five minutes of your time.”

  “Of course,” he said. “I didn’t mean to retreat, merely—” He paused, searching for what he meant. “I don’t know what to say, Tessa. I’m stunned.”

  He was also angry, confused, and . . . sorry. So terribly sorry.

  However, he wasn’t prepared to say those things yet.

  “I endeavored to put it all down in a letter,” she told him. “I even managed to get some version of it off, but obviously the note has missed you.”

  “Obviously,” he repeated, and then he winced. He didn’t care about the damned letter. He also cared far less about the brig and the cargo and the missing slip, but it was all he could think to say at the moment. Before he’d fully considered his words, he said, “So, your father canceled the slip?”

  “No, I did it,” she said. “A preventative measure. When my parents disowned me, they vowed to separate themselves from you, too.”

  “They belie
ve the child is—” He stopped himself and frowned. It wasn’t important what they thought of him.

  Her voice was sharp. “I told them you were not the father. I’ve sworn off dishonesty, if you can believe it.”

  “I do,” he said. They hovered in the doorway, half in the corridor, half in the parlor. His world shrank to her. “I believe you,” he repeated, and he realized that this was true.

  Tessa turned away and began to pace the parlor. “After my parents discovered the truth, they looked more closely into your life and business. They had been wholly won over by you, and they couldn’t understand why a man of your accomplishments would help me and my fatherless baby.” She turned back to him.

  “You didn’t ask for my help, did you?” he asked. “You simply pushed things through.”

  She nodded and looked at the floor. “Regardless, they soon turned up the details of your boyhood in service, and they had their answer. After that, they wanted nothing to do with you.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” Joseph scoffed.

  Tessa finished, “I am truly sorry, as I know you valued my father’s mentorship. It is another casualty of my . . . situation, I’m afraid.”

  “I’ve no further need of your father,” he said, and he meant it.

  Tessa stared at him. Her expression was confused and cautious and something else he could not name.

  Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “And that is the reason I canceled your slip at the West India Docks. My father’s position on the West India board gives him the power to block you from the docks forever, and I assure you, he harbors quite enough outrage and ill will to do it. In order to salvage what I could of your Barbadoes venture, I saw no choice but to seek out the dock house myself, learn the system in the mooring office, and cancel your previous contract. I’m sorry you arrived with no warning about the change. It was done only to prevent him from taking some other action. He can be very rash and destructive when he feels betrayed. I felt it would be best that all trace of your business had been removed from the records.”

  “Forgive me,” he said, following her into the parlor, “my mind has not moved on from this treatment by your parents, I cannot think about the dock. I don’t understand why you cannot . . . ? That is—”

  He shook his head and began again, “Your parents seemed like reasonable people. Granted, I did not know them well. I was at Berymede only a matter of weeks.” He frowned. “A little adherent to propriety, I suppose.” Another frown. “But to disown you?”

  “It was always ambitious to think they would not discover my . . . secret.”

  “Alright, fine, they learned about the baby. But to separate from you entirely?”

  Tessa threw up her hands, fingers spread. “Joseph? Why do you think I kept the baby secret and scrambled to find a husband? For what reason did I marry you?”

  Not because you loved me, he thought. Not because you trusted me to help you.

  Joseph shook his head. “Because you made some solitary plan and were determined to see it through?”

  She raised her hands again. “Because I knew this would be their reaction.” She turned away and stalked the length of the room. When she spoke again, her voice was controlled. “To them, reputation is paramount. Even if they had managed some compassion or understanding, their shame would have been very great. I would have been secreted away, my baby taken from me, some fabrication would have been spun about my absence.”

  She shrugged. “But they are not compassionate or understanding. As I knew they would not be.” She circled a yellow chair and then dropped into it. “At least they’ve been quiet about it. A public shunning would only have compounded their humiliation. To the world, we married for love and had a baby right away. So, please do not think our marriage was in vain.”

  “I do not believe we married in vain,” he said.

  To his surprise, she blushed at his statement. Her color was already high, she’d had so much to convey. She looked, he thought, so beautiful. Despite her terrible dress and the tight, unyielding way she’d styled her hair. Despite the look of distress on her face.

  But beauty had never been the problem. He had spent sleepless nights on the island, dreaming about her beauty. He wanted to stare. To take in what he remembered and account for the changes. To admire. To lo—

  Instead, he cleared his throat and looked around the room.

  The decor of the townhome was lovely. The walls and upholstery were coated in soft colors. There were potted ferns. A lush garden glowed autumn red and gold through the window.

  “The Boyds’ house is lovely,” he said. From nowhere, he thought, Tell me you hate it.

  Weep and tell me you hate it.

  Beg me to take you away from it.

  Ask me to take you anywhere.

  Joseph blinked, reeling from this radical new line of thought.

  Tessa told him, “Willow’s aunt and uncle have been so very generous. And it is a fine house. This townhome will always be the envy of the neighborhood, even with mansions going up around it. It has been very comfortable.”

  Joseph nodded and looked around again. It was not an unfit house. Certainly, it was more modern and tastefully arranged than his own London home. He’d bought a house in Blackheath the year before, sparing no expense. Blackheath was a respectable neighborhood (the only respectable neighborhood) near the London docks, but the house sat empty while he was at sea. He furnished it in fits and starts, a work in progress.

  Is it fit for a wife and baby? he wondered, surprising himself again—shocking himself. He’d not come here to relocate Tessa and her baby to his own home. He’d not planned to come here at all.

  Tessa finished, “It’s been lovely, but I have a mind to move us in the near future. In the spring, I hope.”

  Joseph’s heart stopped.

  He realized with stunning clarity that, somewhere deep inside the hard knot of his heart, he had fantasized about taking her and the baby away. He’d fantasized so many scenarios for her.

  As for the baby?

  Honestly, Joseph had expected to encounter the child immediately upon entering the house. When he had thought of Tessa from Barbadoes (which had been frequent), he thought of her always with the child. In his mind’s eye, the infant would be crying, or she would be preoccupied, or both.

  And yet now here he was, his first day back in England, sitting down with Tessa, and there was no baby to be seen. And now Tessa was telling him she would relocate, and Joseph’s throat felt like it was closing up.

  His brain screamed, I’ve not even seen the boy—

  Tessa interjected, “The baby and I cannot impose on Mary and Arthur forever. I am accustomed to caring for him now.” She looked up and gave him a weak smile. “This took some . . . time. Also, Willow’s former lady’s maid, Perry, has agreed to stay on as our nurse for a while longer. But the baby and I must eventually settle somewhere in . . . in earnest. This was always temporary, wasn’t it?”

  As revelations went (and it felt very much like a revelation), it was calmly stated and oddly devoid of specifics. She hardly sounded happy, but he could not name the other flat emotion in her words or her expression.

  Was she hopeful about relocating or regretful? He couldn’t say, but he wanted to know. Even more, he wished to know what role she envisioned for him in this move.

  Her vague calmness unnerved him. Unnerved was a mild word for what he felt. She was calm, direct, and controlled; so very different from the chatty, flouncy, reactionary girl he had met last autumn.

  Is this the authentic Tessa? he wondered.

  Would the spiritedness and colorful dramatics that so intrigued him when they first met not be seen again? The Tessa of their courtship had veritably bubbled with conversation. He’d listened to countless stories about shopping trips or her vexation with her brothers or some funny trick she’d seen from the cat. She’d discussed her love for the piano, for her friends, her hatred of the grey and hopeless month of March.

&nbs
p; Of course, she had been playacting all those months ago. What he’d taken as spirit had been feminine wiles meant to distract him. And what need had she for wiles now? He’d married her, hadn’t he? She could not care less whether he was attracted to her or not.

  Joseph studied her face, her bright blue eyes and pink mouth. If she’d been playacting when they first met, she had been deuced good at it. In all honesty, this new calmness seemed just as natural.

  “Before I detain you any longer,” Tessa said, “let me explain to you what I have done about the brig. It was never my intention that you would reach London and be shut out.”

  Joseph stared at her. And now they would discuss docking rights? He opened his mouth to tell her he would sort it out himself, that he was sorry for his insistence and assumptions before, but she spoke over him.

  “I’ll skip to the most relevant bit that will, with any luck, put your mind at ease and allow you to dock the brig immediately—today, if we’re lucky.” From the pocket of her skirt, she pulled a small, leather-bound booklet. It fell open on the low table before them, revealing pages of handwritten notes.

  “There are irrelevant bits?” Joseph asked. He squinted at the book.

  “Well, no,” Tessa said, “I simply meant we should get right to it. I made a promise to myself not to burden you with the details of my family.”

  “I am not burdened by the topic of your family, Tessa.” His voice was defensive. He felt defensive. He’d never put off anything she’d wanted to discuss. She had been the one who chose to shut him out.

  “No?” she challenged.

  No, he wanted to shout. But he raised his eyebrows.

  “But you’ve not asked about my son, have you?” she said quietly.

  Oh, that part of her family. You’re entirely correct, he thought. I haven’t asked about the baby because I don’t want to know.

  And on the heels of that thought, he had another, more powerful, thought: It’s killing me that I do not know.