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.”