All Dressed in White EPB

by Michaels, Charis

  “May we speak before I go?” she asked. She held the goat by a lead rope.

  Joseph considered her. She’d worn a traveling suit that was not quite as heavy and oppressive as her usual drab shroud. The skirt and jacket were midnight blue. There was a matching hat. She looked elegant and beautiful and not entirely suited for minding a goat.

  “I hoped that we would,” he said.

  She turned away, pulling the goat in the direction of the mews.

  “I’ve charged Benjamin with locating a female goat in each town as soon as you reach the inn,” Joseph said, rushing to take the animal.

  “Yes, he’s told me. We can manage with cow’s milk if there is no goat,” she said. “You’ve thought of everything.”

  “I’ve thought of you,” he said. “Or I’ve endeavored to. There will be things I cannot anticipate.”

  “I’ve managed for months without you, Joseph. Perry and I will carry on as we have.”

  I don’t want you to carry on as you have, he thought, but he would not detract from what she had achieved.

  They neared the stable door and the goat picked up speed, anxious to be away from the humans and the carriage and an uncertain future. Tessa swung the gate and stepped inside.

  He’d called on her frequently since the day at Trevor’s house, the day they’d encountered her father in Blackwall. The plan to visit Hartlepool had come together very quickly, in less than a week, and it had required daily collaboration. Even so, the opportunity to be alone with her, truly alone, had not presented itself. Like a coward, he had not engineered one.

  Trevor had accused him again of not being particularly attracted to his wife. It was an offhand jest, intended to spur him to action, but the claim made him almost angry. The desire he felt for Tessa had been so urgent and present for so long—nearly a year now, since they first met—that it felt almost like his shadow, a hulking reflection of himself that hounded his every step. But instead of weightless and easily ignored, his desire was a pressure that never let up, a pulsing, insistent burn.

  Let it burn, Joseph had told himself. He would rather burn alive than relive the look of panic on her face when she leapt from his lap. And now that he knew why? He could not pursue her in the usual ways. He would wait and watch and proceed with extreme caution, his burning desire be damned.

  In the stable, Tessa busied herself untying the goat and stringing the rope on a peg. “There is something I should like before I go, Joseph,” she said, giving the animal a final pat.

  “What have we forgotten?” he asked.

  “A kiss.” She left the animal and started to him.

  “I beg your pardon?” he said stupidly, uselessly, the best he could do. His actual thought was thank God, which was surely the wrong reaction. His pulse leapt and his hands tingled, itching to scoop her up.

  His distress must have been obvious, because she chuckled. Her blue eyes lit up the dim stable. She said, “And it’s not because I am grateful that you have taken my idea of Hartlepool so very seriously.” She stepped to him and placed her palms on his lapels. Joseph stared at her hands.

  “I am grateful,” she said. He had trouble focusing on her words. He stared at her mouth. She went on, whispering, “Even if the idea is utter folly—especially if it is folly—I am grateful. But I want to kiss you for no other reason than I enjoyed it so very much before.” She paused, holding his gaze. Her speech felt a little prepared, but he didn’t care. He would hear it again and again.

  “I know my final reaction alarmed us both,” she said softly, “but I want you to understand that my final reaction was not my only reaction. I have not stopped thinking about all the things I loved about that kiss.”

  And then the speech ended, and she raised her chin, and lifted onto her toes.

  She looked so very earnest and excited and delicious, he’d almost been too enchanted to respond.

  Almost.

  Instinct prevailed, and he dropped his mouth onto hers. He had the fleeting thought, This is actually happening, and stifled a groan. He widened his stance and swept her against him, his hands surging up the curve of her back, kneading every vertebra of her spine. Restraint deserted him. When he reached her neck, he cradled her head.

  She kissed like a woman, he thought, not a girl. He loved her proficiency, her confidence. Her anxiety aside, there was no shy, halting uncertainty in the way she kissed. She slid her hands from the rough wool of his lapels to the slick waistcoat beneath. Nuzzling close, she wrapped her arms around him beneath his jacket, sharing warmth, sharing a heartbeat.

  He pulled away to trail kisses down her neck. “I should be going with you,” he rasped against her skin.

  “You should not,” she sighed. “You should oversee delivery of your guano and sell the next lot. You should provision for the next expedition. Perry and I are accustomed to managing tight spaces and long stretches and babies. I am quite talented.”

  You are torture, he thought.

  And this had been an ancillary reason he wouldn’t travel with her. The thought of ten nights in ten inns seemed almost inhuman for him to endure. Not now. Not when there was so much to explore about their future.

  The thought of exploring while also sharing a country inn suite with a chatty nursemaid? Thin walls and adjoining doorways and the four of them in a coach? It would require an amount of restraint and patience that he did not possess.

  He’d been working beside her with maps and open trunks for a week and not touched her once, and now she was veritably climbing his body—and thank God for that. But when they finally, truly delved in to the topic of their life together, whatever it might be, and—hallelujah—when he could touch her all night long, he wanted to be in one location, and he wanted a locked bloody door.

  “I pray God you are safe and comfortable,” he said, and he scraped his stubble-rough face against her cheek.

  “But we will miss you,” she said. “And there is so much yet to say. And do.”

  He swiped his mouth across her lips and she strained to catch it.

  “Yes,” he rasped, burying his face in her neck. “So very much yet to do. In Hartlepool, whatever it turns out to be, we will take the time, however long. I can depend upon it, Tessa? Right?”

  “Uh-hmmm,” she agreed, searching for his mouth.

  Joseph growled, swept away by her enthusiasm and the promise of more. He gathered her so close, he worried she couldn’t draw breath, but then she was grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, wrestling him closer still. She met his passion kiss for kiss, deeper, more urgent.

  Joseph swept his hands down her ribcage and beneath her bottom, pressing her to him. She made a whimpering nose and bowed in, swaying, clinging. He dragged his hands to her waist and lifted her, staggering to the stable wall. She released one hand and reached behind her, feeling for the smooth stones, but he pivoted and fell against it. Tessa collapsed against his chest with a sigh.

  Joseph turned his head to break the kiss, gasping for air. “Tessa,” he said, a plea, a prayer.

  “You came every day,” she panted, “but . . . never . . . once . . . kissed—”

  He captured her mouth. “I didn’t realize,” he said, dropping his lips to her neck, “we could enjoy the privacy of the mews.”

  She laughed and arched her neck. “Boot rooms and stables,” she said. “I’m beginning to doubt your affinity for the finer things.”

  “My affinity is for you, madam,” he growled in her ear, “and there is no finer. Never has a woman excited me as you do.”

  “Joseph,” she breathed, straining for his mouth.

  “It will be my greatest pleasure to show you every finery.”

  “Your greatest pleasure?” she teased.

  Joseph paused, reared back, and stared into her face. She looked at him from beneath lowered lashes, an expression of mischief and affection and need.

  He made a strangled noise and descended on her mouth again. “Hartlepool cannot come soon enough,” he said between kisse
s. “Not soon enough.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tessa smelled Hartlepool before she saw it. The briny scent of cold sea and north wind hit her like a bracing slap to the face. Her eyes watered and her breath was carried away on the call of the gulls.

  After ten days in a rocking coach with Perry and the baby, Tessa would be relieved to reach any destination, but she had prepared herself for the worst. Hartlepool, although not bustling or necessarily cheerful, seemed quaint and stalwart. The vast expanse of the roiling North Sea was its most distinguishing feature. Flat waves pulled back to reveal crescents of caramel-colored sand along the shore and then rushed forth to covered them up again. A thick seawall protected Hartlepool’s easternmost street, and terraced lines of sturdy homes rose like inland jewels on a golden band. Tessa saw the small, tidy dockyard immediately in the center of town, its bright, unbarnacled quay walls strung with lines of loosely moored boats, mostly trawlers and schooners. Rising highest, taking up an entire jetty, was Stoker’s brig.

  “He’s come,” she whispered, mindful of the sleeping baby on her lap, and tears filled her eyes. Perry looked up from her book and then darted to the carriage window.

  “He’s come,” Tessa repeated, clearing her throat. She had no idea why she was crying. She’d known all along that he would come.

  “We’re saved,” said Perry, collapsing against the seat. Perry had not enjoyed seeing the countryside by coach and had even less interest in the seaside. “Thank God.”

  That from which they were “saved” was not named, but the maid seemed relieved they were able to decamp from the lurching carriage and spread across two rooms in a small but comfortable inn.

  Mr. Chance, the innkeep informed them, had been a guest for two days already, although he was out when they checked in. Tessa was shown to his room by friendly staff, while Perry and Christian were settled in an adjoining room. A maid promised she would knock shortly with tea.

  Tessa had not known how the rooms would be allotted when she and Joseph convened, and she tried very hard to be casual and breezy with the innkeeper, although the mere sight of Joseph’s personal things—a row of coats and breeches in the wardrobe, a trunk of folded shirts and cravats, a tray of shaving articles—made Tessa’s heart race. He would dress in this room. Undress. She would do the same. If she could manage it, they would have the wedding night that never happened.

  She paced a small circle from a window to the large bed and back again. She paused at a side table to examine a collection of cuff links and gloves and a stack of hatboxes. Joseph had never hidden his love of fine clothes, and he always looked so very posh and well turned out, but his wardrobe dwarfed her own. Well, it dwarfed the New Tessa’s wardrobe. The Old Tessa could have happily gone toe-to-toe.

  She looked down at her red velvet traveling suit. She had not burned her brown and grey dresses as he’d ordered, but she had slowly begun to bring out her old clothes. There had been little time to pack for this journey, and she’d asked Perry only to shake out four traveling suits and to pack a handful of old winter dresses still folded in parchment for storage.

  She would test out the old dresses, she thought, in the same way she would test out her intimacy with Joseph. Cautiously. Hopefully. She wanted to feel safe wearing her beloved gowns, but that safe feeling wasn’t guaranteed. She wanted a wedding night with Joseph—she wanted Joseph, plain and simple—but this, too, was not a certainty.

  She was just about to unpin her hat and brush the creases from her hair when the door flew open and Joseph strode into the room. “Tessa,” he breathed.

  His greatcoat swirled around his ankles, and he kicked the door shut with his boot. He looked even better than she remembered, better than he had when he’d first called on her in Berymede. She ran to him and he caught her with open arms and spun them both.

  “I thought you’d never arrive,” he said into her neck.

  “It was an eternity. Perry threatened to resign every ten miles.”

  “Where is the baby?” he asked.

  She pulled away and smiled. He had not said he would accept Christian as his son, not in as many words, but he was attentive and curious. It made her love him even more. “Your other room. That is, the room with the crib. He is napping, Perry is with him.” She felt herself blush. She said, “The innkeep showed me to this room, and I just assumed that we would . . . I wasn’t sure where you wanted each of us, but I thought—”

  “I want you here with me,” he growled, kissing her until her knees grew weak. “Christian can stay here or in the other room, or both. Perry should take the other room. Obviously.”

  Tessa laughed and drew herself closer, kissing him. They swayed together, devouring each other, hands roaming, barely remembering to breathe.

  “Tessa, wait,” Joseph said, breaking away. “I need to pause.” He grabbed a handful of the bustle on her suit and squeezed. “I will require, I’m afraid, intermittent breaks.”

  “No—” she implored, clinging to him, and he laughed and staggered back. She went with him, refusing to let go. There was a chair nearby and he fell into it, taking her down with him.

  “Tessa,” he breathed, dropping his head on the back of the chair and staring at the ceiling. “I will perish from wanting you. Too late. I’m already deceased. You carry on with my ghost. But he cannot resist you either.”

  “You are very solid,” she said. “For a ghost.”

  “‘Solid’ is putting it very mildly,” he said. “But, Tessa? Neither of us should rush this. I’m determined. In this, we will require pauses.”

  Tessa studied him. He was joking, but his beautiful profile was strained.

  “Did I . . . ? Have we—?” She didn’t know what to ask. “Are you in pain?”

  “Yes, I am in pain. But it is the most glorious pain imaginable, and I relish it. I simply need some respite on occasion. I won’t toss you onto the bed and . . . frighten you.”

  Tessa considered the bed. She thought of being tossed. “That sounds exciting, actually,” she said.

  Joseph squeezed his eyes shut. “It is exciting, and we will get to that—but first, you and I will take things very slowly. We will pause, as I’ve just said, to make sure that I am always in control of my passion and that you feel very safe.”

  Now Tessa considered this. “And one day, I will say when we pause and when we are excited. One day, I shall be in control,” she declared.

  “God, I hope so,” he sighed, and he kissed her again, and she realized with relish that the pause had ended, and she pounced on him.

  After five minutes, when Joseph’s cravat hung loose from the chair and Tessa’s hair was a tangled blonde cape around them, they heard the distinctive sound of a baby’s hungry cry.

  “Christian excels at pauses,” Tessa sighed, pressing her forehead to Joseph’s.

  “Well, that makes one of us.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Joseph helped Tessa feed the baby, and then he carried him downstairs and walked the grounds of the inn. Tessa remained inside, working with Perry to change from her traveling suit and repin her hair. Joseph had expected some challenge when he’d offered to take Christian, but both mother and maid had leapt at the offer.

  To Joseph’s delight, the baby seemed to recognize him from his days of calling to Belgrave Square. Tessa had pulled a woolen hat low over his head to protect him from the cold, and the infant clearly objected to this precaution. He scrunched up his eyes and swatted ineffectually at the tight, low cap with chubby fists.

  “Agreed, mate,” said Joseph when they were free from the women. “I avoid resemblance to a mushroom whenever I can,” and he peeled the hat from the baby’s head. Christian smiled at him, a genuine smile, with wet gums and eyes that were nearly pushed shut by the roundness of his cheeks. Joseph felt himself smile back.

  The innkeep walked by in that moment and said, “That’s a fine-looking son you’ve got there, Mr. Chance. Very fine, indeed. I knew when your wife arrived tha
t it was the family you were expecting. I seen that baby, and I says to myself, ‘That’s the spitting image of Mr. Chance.’”

  “Thank you,” Joseph said, and he leaned down and kissed the top of the baby’s warm, un-hatted head. Christian made his signature squawk and bobbed up and down. Something new and unfamiliar began to grow in Joseph. It took a moment for him to identify it, but as he walked away and his chest swelled and his shoulders straightened, Joseph identified it as . . . pride.

  Christian was an alert and curious baby, eyes big on the horses in the stable, the yellow and red autumn leaves on the garden’s lone tree, and most fascinatingly of all, a fat white cat with swishing tail who sat in a windowsill.

  “You are smart, like your mother,” Joseph told the baby as he circled back to the horses. He’d offered to have an open carriage hitched so that he and Tessa could tour the town, but Tessa had balked at the idea of riding again so soon and asked if they could walk instead. Joseph agreed and reserved a carriage for later in the week. He’d scouted a property for sale in the surrounding countryside and was anxious for Tessa to see it. He’d contacted the owners and scheduled a visit.

  “There you are,” called a voice from behind them.

  The baby jerked around at the sound of his mother’s voice.

  “Hello, Dollop,” Tessa sang. “What have you seen with Papa?” She lifted Christian into her arms.

  Joseph blinked at the intimate name, and he suddenly had trouble meeting Tessa’s gaze. He had no idea how to be a father but he wanted, earnestly, to try. He cleared his throat, ready with a story about the cat, when he caught his first full view of the transformed appearance of his wife.

  “Tessa,” he said. It was all he could manage.

  She wore a day dress in chalky blue, two shades lighter than her eyes. Her hair had been styled in two thick braids, coiled at her crown with a small blue hat perched at a jaunty angle. She wore an ivory shawl and an ivory silk pin in the shape of a gardenia on her lapel. Pearlescent leather gloves hugged her hands and disappeared into the sleeves of her dress. Tiny pearls traced her collar, sleeves, and hem. She looked like a sketch in one of Perry’s fashion periodicals. In addition to the pretty dress, she seemed to step lighter, to speak with more lilt, to smile more easily. Joseph’s thoughts rolled back to their first meeting on the street in Pixham. No woman is lovelier.