The first time Joseph Chance saw Tessa St. Croix, he was leaning against the fence post across from Gibson’s Mercantile, trying to guess which young woman coming and going was his future potential wife.

His business partner Cassin had provided her name, and his other partner Jon Stoker had learned her schedule for the day. This included delivering flowers to sick villagers, some errand to do with a church piano, and ribbon procurement in Gibson’s shop. It was an innocuous list, virtuous even, but Joseph elected to view it as matronly and boring and expected to see a short, spotted spinster with flat feet and a limp.

He missed her arrival to the mercantile by ten minutes, and now he had no choice but to wait. The delay grated, as his trip to Surrey had amounted to little more than awkward failure, and there was so much real work to be done in London.

They’d come to Surrey at the prompting of an advertisement that promised “a modest fortune” in finance capital for their next import venture.

“Wealthy investor seeks suitable candidates for dispersal of modest fortune,” the advert, posted on the docks in Blackwall, had read.

But when they sought out the “wealthy investor” in Surrey, they had discovered it was not one man—not a man at all—but three young women. And the “modest fortune” was their dowries.

Joseph had no interest in marrying for money—hell, he had no interest in marrying at all, not at the moment—but after traveling all this way, he’d grown curious. Before they returned to London, Joseph would have one quick look. His partners, Cassin and Stoker, had done the same.

It was impossible, of course, to watch a young woman emerge from a shop and know whether or not he might marry her, but certainly he could know whether he could absolutely not marry her. That is, he could quickly rule her out, which he absolutely intended to do. Just one quick look, that’s all it would take.

“Pray do not punish her, Mr. Gibson. She is only doing her job.”

Joseph looked up. A woman’s voice spilled from the open shop door, followed by musical laughter. Not the polite tinkling of mild amusement, but an honest-to-God laugh, full-bodied, surprise and delight spun together. Joseph shoved off the fence post.

The shop door was vacant except for a large cat. The animal marched into the sunlight with a rodent in her mouth. Behind the cat came a corpulent shopkeeper, light on his feet despite his size, with a broom held high. The laughter persisted from inside the shop, more of a giggle now, and then Tessa St. Croix stepped into the bright light of the Autumn sun.

She wore a pink dress and red bonnet, and her arms were laden with parcels. Joseph stepped toward her as if someone had called his name. He stared. The sunshine was suddenly too bright and he shielded his eyes.

Her laughter had stopped but her face was lit with a relaxed smile. She watched the cat disappear around a corner. The shopkeeper grumbled and waved his broom. She made some comment, laughing again. The older man turned away and applied the broom to his stoop.

Joseph forgot his position of anonymity and walked to the edge of the road. All thoughts of boredom and matrons fled. He was . . . riveted. This girl was like an actress, bathed in light, standing on a stage. The combination of the bright dress and the easy smile and the stack of parcels cast her in the role of Village Beauty. No, Gentleman’s Daughter. Damsel. Fair Maiden.

She had creamy, fair skin, carefully protected by the brim of her bonnet and high gloves. Her eyes were light—summer blue—with blond hair, two smooth braids looping like thick yellow ropes.

The pink of her dress was almost too sweet, and the crimson ribbons were a garish contrast, and yet somehow it was the prettiest dress and bonnet Joseph had ever seen. She looked like a confection. A birthday present. She looked like something Joseph had not expected but that he suddenly wanted very much.

Joseph glanced down at his own rumpled suit and dusty boots. He’d brought a change of clothes, of course, a fine suit—they’d planned to meet a proper investor in Surrey—but when the investment came to nothing, he had not bothered. He swore in his head. Of all the times to look like a plowman. Cassin and Stoker teased him about his Italian barber and expensive tailor, and yet look at him now.

The bell on the shop door jingled again, and the shopkeeper retreated inside. He and the girl were alone with only the road between them. Joseph swallowed hard. He swiped his hat from his head and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. He considered and rejected ten different greetings. He wondered if she might greet him. Could anyone so radiant on the outside, he wondered, be tedious or petty or simple within? The answer, of course, was absolutely.

The likelihood of radiant beauty and tedium or pettiness or simplicity was quite high.

Even so, Joseph’s heart raced. He said nothing, he watched her look up and down the street. Finally, she turned her head, and their eyes locked.

Her smile was instantaneous, an open, guileless, authentically happy smile. The smile of someone who had just found something she’d been looking for.

“Hello!” she called cheerfully. Her voice was confident but casual. She sounded very much at home, comfortable in the sunny street, in her bright dress, in the role as greeter of the mute man who gawked at her from the center of the street.

“Hello,” Joseph finally said.

He should also say how do you do? he thought. Gallantry was as important to him as fine clothes and good boots. He should introduce himself. He should take her parcels. Instead, he stared silently, barely breathing, waiting to see what she would do next.

“I seem to have misplaced my brothers,” she called and she laughed again. “They were meant to drive me home in our carriage. Clearly I spent too much time in Mr. Gibson’s shop.” She shrugged and the ribbons on her bonnet fluttered.

“May I assist you with your parcels?” he called. His plan to observe her from afar now seemed irrelevant.

“Oh, but I could not trouble you.” Her smile grew brighter. He began walking to her, crunching on the gravel of the road in long, sure strides. She watched him with what felt like anticipation. She watched him like someone waiting in line to meet the king. Joseph had experienced many reactions from women in his life, but no one had ever stared at him like that.

When he reached her, she said, “But I’ve not had the privilege of making your acquaintance, sir.”

Her face was even lovelier at close range. And she smelled like a flower. Every flower. She smelled like every flower and the very best flower.

“Are you, by chance, Miss Tessa St. Croix?” he said.

“But I am the very one,” she laughed, looking up at him. Joseph’s heart stopped.

He began to unburden her of her parcels, and she relinquished them easily, no suspicion or faux protest.

“But you’ll forgive me because I cannot say I know your name,” she said. “Or have we met?”

“No,” he said. He shook his head gravely. He felt suddenly, deeply serious. He shuffled the boxes. All at once, the weight of the moment seemed too important and life-changing to be cheerful.

“My name is Joseph Chance,” he said. “My partners and I have just arrived in Surrey from London. We are . . . responding to an advert.”

Her smile dissolved and she made a little gasp.

Yes, he thought. Gasp. That reaction seemed exactly, perfectly right. Whatever you do, please do not go.

He said, “My partner, the Earl of Cassin, has already spoken to your friend, I believe. Likewise, I could not resist seeking you out. Forgive me. There was meant to be a formal introduction, but . . .”

Slowly, her smile changed. She looked . . . delighted. His name was familiar to her. She knew why he’d come. And her reaction was delight. His heart surged.

She said, “Mr. Joseph Chance. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. But are you . . . ?” She let the sentence trail off.

The next words were out of his mouth before he’d fully thought. “Your future husband,” he said.

“Are you, indeed?” she laughed. Her voice was a frothy combination of a gasp and smile and something else.

Falling back on years of practiced charm and manners, Joseph winked. He smiled down at her with what he knew to be a very popular smile. “Shall we discuss the advertisement while I help you locate these brothers?”