Tessa wore a dress the color of crushed violets for the carriage ride to the potential new house. Joseph had stopped dead when she’d bustled out in the ensemble, staring in open appreciation. She had smiled and glowed in satisfaction, discussing the care of the baby with Perry. It had felt so very gratifying to wear her old gowns and hats. She walked taller, she spoke in a voice that felt more like her own; and the appreciation in Joseph’s eyes made her feel desired. The months in the drab browns and greys had made her feel as if she was slowly disappearing from view.

The decision had been made to leave the baby with Perry for their journey to see the potential new house. They’d brought him along on several of their previous rambles, but Joseph was so very excited to show her this mysterious property. Tessa looked forward to seeing it with no distractions.

“Is it far?” she asked, settling beside him on the carriage seat. She would prefer their future home to be close to the dockyard.

“Not far. A twenty-minute ride. You can see the sea from the topmost room.”

“Top room?” she asked. “Joseph, this doesn’t sound like a cottage.”

“’Tis a cottage. Says it, right in the name. Abbotsford Cottage.”

“It has a name?” Tessa knew what to expect from houses with names. Berymede was a prime example, and one of the finest estates in Surrey.

“Of course it has a name, how else should we find it?”

“How have we found it?”

“We asked around about property for sale until we were tipped off to it. The sellers have a sentimental attachment to it and wish to meet prospective buyers in person. They were not available until today.”

“And you’ve seen it?” she asked.

“From horseback,” he said.

“What if the buyers don’t care for us?”

“And what would they not love about the two of us?” he asked. “Beautiful wife, shipping-merchant husband with political aspirations. Adorable baby.”

“What if they discern your sordid history?” she teased, snaking a hand around his arm. “What if they believe you to be an upstart former servant?”

“Then I shall say I am an upstart former servant and show them the size of my purse,” he sighed, stretching out and tipping his hat. He closed his eyes. They were both exhausted. Not-making-love took quite a bit of time they would have otherwise spent sleeping.

Tessa marveled at the patience and skill with which Joseph had approached her struggles to be intimate. Of course, she knew very little of the lovemaking habits of other couples, but in her mind, she thought she had possibly been shown the very worst of sex by Captain Marking and the most glorious by Joseph.

Still, there had been one thing he had not thought of that she thought might, possibly, make the enterprise more . . . Well, one thing that she hadn’t been able to remove from her mind for many weeks.

“Joseph?” she asked when the carriage left the bricked streets of the town and bounced onto a tree-lined country lane. “May I tell you something that I like?”

He opened one, interested eye. “Yes,” he said slowly, suggestively.

She narrowed her eyes. He would indulge her, she knew, whatever it was, but he would make her say it. So much of sex with him was talking about it.

“I like it . . .” she began, feeling herself blush. She couldn’t look at him. She gazed out the window.

“Yes,” he drawled, still reclining on the seat. He lazily closed his eyes.

Her heart was pounding, a reaction that he, undoubtedly, discerned. She cleared her throat. “. . . that is, I liked it when we were in Vauxhall Gardens, and you chased away those young men, and your accent—that is, the way you spoke—sort of . . . changed.”

Joseph opened the lone eye again. “Changed how?” he asked.

But perhaps she could not say it. She made a noise of frustration. “Don’t bait me, Joseph, you know I am damaged and fragile and just . . . er, learning.”

“You are not damaged or fragile and you know more than most women who have been married all of their lives.” Both eyes were open now, although he was staring at her with half-lidded casualness. “You’re being shy on purpose, but if you want me a certain way, I should like to hear it.”

She tipped forward and stared at her purple leather boots. “Your voice was, er, rough? It was, not the voice of a gentleman. That is, you spoke in a way that I’d never heard—from you.” She could feel herself blush to the tips of her ears, but she pressed on. “It was as if . . . It was the way I assume you spoke before you were educated? Before you were a gentleman. When you were in Greece, perhaps, with Falcondale. When you were—” She lost heart and trailed off.

“Oh, that voice,” he teased slowly, and then he sat up and snatched off his hat.

“I knew it,” he drawled. “Trevor accused me of imagining it, but I’ve known it all along.” He tossed his hat to the opposite seat and grabbed Tessa in the same movement. He pulled her into his lap, tickling and dipping her back. She yelped and then slapped a hand over her mouth, mindful of the driver.

Joseph kissed her hard—once, twice—and then dropped his lips to her ear. “I knew the gentleman’s pretty daughter harbored some fantasy for the strapping servant from belowstairs.”

Tessa laughed again, squirming in his lap. “It’s not true,” she said. “I’d not even heard your original accent until you fought off those men at Vauxhall Gardens.” She broke free enough to kiss him, a quick buss of her lips, but he captured her mouth in a long, slow, languid kiss. She let out a little sigh, sinking in.

“I don’t believe you,” he declared when she finally broke away. “I saw a spark of interest in your eyes the very first time I mentioned the upstart story of my upstart life. On that first walk at Berymede. Admit it. It excites you.” He dipped to nuzzle her ear, and she shivered.

“Well, perhaps it is a little true,” she consented. “Did no small part of you fantasize about seducing the gentleman’s daughter?”

“Believe me, love, there’s a very large part of me that fantasized about it, and still does,” he whispered in the other voice, the voice she’d heard only at Vauxhall. He surged against her, and she made a little whimpering noise.

“But is that what you want?” he growled into her ear. “Now? For our last beautiful bit of your beautiful body? In this carriage?”

She was breathing hard, her hands clinging to fistfuls of his jacket, but she shook her head. “You’ve said it’s only a twenty-minute ride.”

“Want the full hour, do you?” he asked again in his other voice.

She laughed and slid from his lap, straightening her dress. “If the cottage interests us, it will be very poor form to turn up with my hair undone and your cravat ruined. You’ve said the sellers are sentimental? Very poor form.”

“Tonight then,” he said. “Love.” And he retrieved his hat and rested it over his eyes, resuming his slouch.

Abbotsford Cottage was a fourteen-bedroom, Elizabethan-style manor house with ballroom, nursery, music room, detached servant’s quarters, and walled garden with fountain. It had two high towers (no longer in use but architecturally striking), an arcade wall of arches, and a circle drive paved with crushed stone.

It was, in Joseph’s view, as striking as Berymede, if not lovelier. This should not be a priority, he knew, but it was.

“Oh, Joseph,” Tessa breathed as their carriage crunched up the drive. “Joseph, this is far, far too much.” But her voice sounded awed and wistful and grateful. This had also been a priority. That Tessa would love it.

“Not bad for a stable boy, I submit,” he teased.

“Stop, I wish I’d not said anything.” Her eyes had not left the house.

“You will not wish that after tonight,” he promised but she had slid the carriage glass to the side and leaned from the window, craning for a better view of the house.

They were greeted by the owners themselves, a shipbuilder with a shipyard in nearby Brancepeth. Sir Thomas Park and his wife Lady Winnifred were selling the house to relocate to London to be closer to their grown children. But they had devoted their marriage and child-rearing years in Abbotsford Cottage and could not bear to sell it to strangers who might allow it to fall in disrepair or build on in a way that jeopardized the historical integrity of the original structure.

After introductions and chitchat about the journey, Joseph allowed Tessa to take over. Her natural charm and vitality made every corner of the grand house seem like her new personal favorite. Her questions were thoughtful and flattering, her manner warm and well-bred. She behaved like the queen.

When Joseph asked for a few moments alone to discuss the property with his wife, Sir Thomas led them to the garden.

Staring down into the fountain, Tessa asked, “Joseph, be honest. How can we afford it? It’s far too much. It’s grander than Berymede. It’s as grand as Willow’s home, Leland Park.”

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Of course, I like it. But there is upkeep, there are servants—a veritable army of servants for a house of this size—there is fuel for fireplaces and lamps and candles. We had discussed a cottage.”

“It’s called Abbotsford Cottage.”

“I am aware of the name. I’m also aware that I’m standing in the garden of a full-blown estate. Please tell me you would not bankrupt us to buy this because you think it will impress me.”

“Are you impressed?” He put one shiny boot on the ledge of the fountain.

“Of course, I am impressed. But I was happy living in a cellar with two other women, a baby, and a goat. This is unnecessary. But I do love you for it.”

“Nope,” he said, “unacceptable expression of love. It rings false when you say it in response to this gift of a small castle. Keep trying.”

She laughed and shook her head. “It is possible to hurt my feelings, you are aware? You can only toss this sentiment in my face so many times, before I will be forever wounded.”

“What if I told you that I do believe that you love me?”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “I suppose I would ask you why you believe it.”

“Well, perhaps there are many reasons, but chiefly, firstly, because I was terrible to you and despite that, you wanted me back in your life. After I abandoned you. Not only did you want me, you made it possible for our brig to make landfall. You tried to correct things. Why would you do this, if you did not love me?”

She smiled gently, a sweet, gratified smile not for him, just for herself. He watched her, enjoying her pleasure. He’d gotten it right, then. He wanted everything he did to be right for her. She stared into the gurgling fountain and he drifted beside her and put his hands on her waist.

“Joseph?” she asked softly. “Have I told you how very sorry I am—for the way I handled our days at Berymede? For the deception and the entrapment? I was desperate and afraid and I wanted you so very badly, but that’s no excuse. I should have risked losing you by telling you the truth. That way, you would never doubt, even for a second, that I married you . . . for you.”

His heart expanded, straining against the confines of his mortal body. He pulled her against him and nuzzled her neck. “I forgive you, Tessa. My dearest. And I do believe you love me, but I shall never, ever grow weary of hearing you try to say it.”

“I’m not trying to say it. I am saying it. I’ve said it many times.”

“Fine. Trying to say it exactly right.”

“Oh, perhaps I should use a different accent? The poshest pout of a gentleman’s daughter?”

“Now there’s a promising notion,” he said, trailing kisses along her jaw.

She sighed, by all signs enjoying his closeness, the texture of his lips and face, the smell of him; but then she glanced at the windows of the house and pushed him away.

“The sellers will toss us out if we are . . . inappropriate. But perhaps that’s what you want. Perhaps my fears about this house are warranted. We’ve seen it, we’ve been naughty beside the fountain, and now we will be asked to leave—and what a lark it was. Is that what you intend?”

“What I intend,” he said, “is to buy this house. Immediately. So I may carry on beside the fountain however I please. The money is not a concern, Tessa. You’ll remember a small investment of £15,000 in dowry money? This is your net gain. And myself, of course.”

He was about to tell her that he loved her, that there was a part of him who relished the opportunity to buy an ostentatious house for his beautiful wife, but Sir Thomas and his wife bustled into the garden, leading a contingent of servants with tea trolley and trays of food.

“I hope you have time for tea,” called Lady Winnifred, trapping them with the tea trolley and a scrum of servants who assembled a table and chairs.

“Oh, how lovely,” Tessa trilled. “You are too kind.”

“Sir Thomas and I have had a bit of a chat, and it’s all decided,” said Lady Winnifred, beginning to pour. “You must join us for dinner tomorrow and stay the night as our guests. We’ve dear friends visiting from Durham and a few other dignitaries from the county. Our cook is doing up a special meal. You’ll be too full to trundle off back to Hartlepool after the fun, so you may stay as our guests. It will give you some idea of how the house entertains, and you may sleep beneath the roof, walk the halls, and learn its secrets. I know you must have grown weary of that cramped, musty inn in town. They do a passable venison stew, but I’ll wager they’ve already run out of summer vegetables, and one does grow so very weary of turnip.”

“Our friends are active in the Whig-party politics, Mr. Chance,” said Sir Thomas, “one gentleman and his son in particular would be good men for you to know.”

Joseph shot Tessa a look. It’s up to you.

Tessa beamed at the couple. “We would be delighted,” she said.