“Come in,” Tessa called when Joseph knocked softly on the bedroom door.

“Tessa?” Joseph’s voice was gentle through the thick wood.

“Come in,” she repeated. She rose from the dressing table, hairbrush still in hand. Her heart began to drum.

The day of their wedding had come at last. The ceremony, a music-and-flower-filled two-hour affair, with clergy and a boys’ choir brought in from London, had been a testament to her mother’s speedy planning and her father’s money. The wedding feast that followed boasted enough food to nourish all of Surrey for a week.

But now the food and guests had come and gone. Darkness crept across the garden outside the cottage window in long, cold shadows. Tessa sat alone, waiting for her new husband.

She called his name, and there he was. The door creaked open and he filled the doorway. Her heart squeezed like a fist.

“My God, Tessa,” he whispered hoarsely. She looked down at her nightgown, the matching peignoir, the fur slippers. A long, straight lock of blonde hair fell over her shoulder, and she pushed it back. Joseph took it all in and slowly swiped his tongue across his upper lip.

Tessa’s heart squeezed again. No reaction could be more thrilling, not in her wildest dreams, but Joseph had never made a secret of his desire for her. He’d wanted her. That he’d refused to avail himself, despite her frequent offers, only made his desire seem more thrilling. He was exactly, precisely the opposite of Captain Marking.

She’d told herself that when he took her body, this too would be exactly, precisely the opposite of what Captain Marking had done. If they made it that far . . .

For days, Tessa’s resolve had been slipping—and not just because she was afraid of the violence involved in sex. She was afraid of the lie she was living by passing her baby off as Joseph’s. She squeezed her eyes shut and looked away.

“What’s this?” he teased. “Modesty—no. I’m in disbelief.” He stepped inside and shut the door.

Her parents had spruced up a vine-swathed cottage on the edge of Berymede’s expansive parkland for the newlyweds’ use after the wedding. Their plan had been to spend a few days in Surrey before they departed for London. When Joseph saw her safely settled in Belgravia, he would embark on the guano expedition.

“Or is this shyness?” Joseph went on, his voice still teasing. “Not my Tess . . .”

He ambled toward her, taking in the room in a slow, lazy glance. The high, canopied bed, the roaring fire, the cart of food and wine.

Now it was Tess’s turn to stare. He’d removed the jacket he’d worn for the wedding and party, revealing a snug-fitting waistcoat, billowy shirt, and beautifully styled cravat. He was always impeccably turned out, and today was no different. He unspooled the cravat with a yank, pulling it roughly from his neck. Locking eyes with her, he began to unfasten the top buttons of his shirt.

This, she thought, swallowing, is new.

Despite their weeks-long courtship, she’d never seen him without his coat and certainly not with his chest bared. The first thing she noticed was muscled torso and broad shoulders. These had not been an illusion of tailoring. With every flick of a button, she saw more of his throat and pectorals. She let out a miserable half whimper.

He stopped and cocked his head. “Tessa? Darling? What is it?”

She almost said it.

I have lied to you, Joseph. All along.

There is a baby.

You are not the first man.

When you return from sea next year, we will be—I will be . . .

When you return, I will have had a child.

I will have had another man’s child.

But she wondered for the hundredth time if these statements were strictly accurate. Had she lied all along? Was it more accurate to say she had made . . . omissions? Significant omissions.

She would have a baby, this was true, but Joseph was the first man in her heart and in her mind. To her, he would be the first. No man before him had ever taken her breath away, captivated her, thrilled her. Any man before him was but a faint, dull memory, insufficient and forgotten. The memory of Captain Marking in particular was a dark blot that obscured a full season of her life.

“Tessa?” Joseph said again. His boyish features quirked into a confused grin.

“Perhaps I am a bit . . . nervous,” Tessa said faintly. She could not remember having been more nervous.

“Come,” he said, winking at her, taking her hand. “Let us discover what the servants have left. Are you hungry?” He made a low whistle. “Wine? Lovely. Let’s eat something, shall we? And drink something. We’ll indulge in a . . .” he took a deep, amused breath, winking at her again “. . . chat.”

Tessa swallowed hard and allowed him to lead her. From the beginning, he had approached her with a teasing mix of confidence and gentleness. She would follow him anywhere.

He added, “The ceremony and party were such a to-do, we’ve hardly spoken all day.” He took up the bottle of wine and inspected the label and then tucked it under his arm.

Tell him, she thought. Either tell him or compel him to bed you and never look back.

He dropped into the leather armchair before the fire and tugged her hand, pulling her down on his lap. She fell across him with a little yelp. She still clutched the hairbrush in her right hand. He caught her around the waist and tucked her against him. The possession thrilled her despite her nerves, but it was fleeting. She hadn’t the luxury of being thrilled by sitting in his lap. She looked down at her nightgown and peignoir. The silk settled over the two of them like a ruffled, teal mist.

“Hold still,” he chuckled, “easy. There you are.” He set the bottle aside and tossed away the brush. “No more preening. You are beautiful, as I’m sure you are aware. Far too beautiful for me to be expected to spend any length of time . . . chatting.” He raised an eyebrow. “Luckily, I enjoy talking to you nearly as much as I will enjoy . . . not talking to you. It won’t be a hardship. At the moment.” He dipped his head and swiped a swift, soft kiss on the skin of her neck, nuzzling her with his nose.

Tessa squeezed her eyes shut. This was the bit she’d always loved, the kissing and embraces. The experience of . . . coupling had been very painful with Captain Marking. A piercing, confining intrusion that had caused her to go speechless with fear. But the kissing, especially with Joseph, she adored. She could easily steel herself to be bedded if there was kissing.

It also helped that she’d fallen in love with Joseph Chance in these last weeks, a condition she had begun to admit to herself and she wanted, very badly, to admit to him. But it was a qualified love. It was a love mingled with selfishness for her own situation, with fear, with desperation. Why, she wondered for the thousandth time, couldn’t she have met Joseph before Captain Marking, when the two of them could have fallen in love without secrets or lies or omissions?

Why, indeed? She wasn’t sure what to do with this burgeoning love except use it to find the words to reveal the baby—because, when it came down to it, the real reason she would now tell him had little to do with lying generally and everything to do with lying to a man with whom she’d fallen in love. Considering this love, could she continue with the deception, even for the baby? Was the strength of her love worth the risk of . . . of . . .

Well, the real risk now was annulment.

If she told him (when she told him), he might very well undo the marriage. An annulment would leave her not only heartbroken, but truly destitute as well. Her parents would discover the ruse and refuse all manner of aid; and it would be impossible to marry someone else.

Her best estimation was that he would not annul their new union. First and foremost, he needed the dowry money. Second, he was a principled man, but he was not cruel. She’d seen this from the very beginning. She’d been drawn to it, like a warm fire on a cold day. It was one of the things about him she loved the most.

Finally, impossibly, was there a chance his affection for her would make him sympathetic to her plight? Could he possibly love her enough to overlook her deception?

She would only know if she spoke the words.

But . . . not yet. Please, she begged herself. Just a few more moments.

She allowed herself to ask, “What should we talk about?”

His hand had found its way inside the peignoir to the thin silk of her gown. It settled on her waist. Tessa could feel the outline of each strong finger against her hip. It was not horrible, she thought. In fact, it was quite nice. It was more of the same, like kissing and embracing. Oh, how she wanted more kissing and embracing and his hand on her hip.

“Hmmm, I’ve an idea,” he said, reaching for the pocket on his waistcoat. He removed a tattered piece of folded parchment. “A little gift for you, if you’ll have it. For the two of us, I suppose.”

Tessa recognized the paper even before she reached out to take it. The advertisement her friends had posted on the docks in London in order to solicit husbands. Had that been only a month ago?

With shaking hands, she unfolded the parchment. “The advertisement,” she whispered, blinking to keep her eyes dry. “You’ve kept it?”

“Of course I kept it. I wouldn’t have any other ‘gentleman sailors’ sniffing around, asking about your particular brand of ‘investment.’”

She fingered the crumbling edge of the parchment. She wondered if he would allow her to have it as a keepsake—after he knew.

Without thinking, she folded herself against his chest and buried her face in his neck. He gathered her to him, cradling her. He tugged the rumpled parchment from her hand.

“Careful, darling,” he said softly, “what is it?”

She soaked in the gentle pressure of his large hand against her back. She listened to the steady thud of his heart. He pressed a line of small kisses to her temple and she sucked in a breath, as if she could breathe his kisses in. She felt the roughness of his whiskers against her eyelids and cheek and mouth. His fingers flexed gently, in and out, in and out.

How blissful this scene would be on a different night, under different circumstances. But it wasn’t a different night. And the circumstances grew inside her, more every day. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Suddenly, limb by limb, her body began to lock up; stomach clenched, shoulders seizing. She was a tight knot of dread and regret. “Joseph . . . ?” she began, speaking against the skin of his neck.

Her voice was higher pitched than usual. She paused, trying to find the courage. He waited.

There was a good chance he might drop her when she said it—simply roll her off his lap and onto the rug. The deceit would outrage him, there was no doubt about that. But it was an outrage she deserved. She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut. She deserved all of it.

But not yet, she thought. Five more moments. Five more.

“You weren’t displeased by the wedding, I hope?” he asked. Gently, he tipped her back. “It was what you wanted?”

She swallowed. “Well, the wedding was what my parents wanted.”

“Come now. You cannot say that the bunting and pine boughs and candles and . . . How many distinguished guests were there? Three hundred? You cannot say this was not exactly as your heart desired? I looked out at the scale of the wedding feast and thought, what a lifetime of grand affairs I am in for.” He kissed her on the ear. “Lucky for you, I am up to the task. I should like nothing more than hosting ridiculously large parties with you beside me.”

Tessa nodded, unable to speak. How did he know her so well? Already? When she’d managed to conceal such a large part of herself?

“Yes, it was very . . . grand,” she finally said. “But was it too grand?”

“For me?” he chuckled. “No. Grand is one of my chief pursuits. When you begin life as a servant and rise to become a man of means, ‘grand’ holds a certain appeal. Within reason.” He gave her a squeeze.

“Was the Earl of Falcondale impressed, do you think?” Tessa asked, speaking of his old friend and sponsor. The earl, Tessa thought, was another reason Joseph would not annul the wedding. If she had to guess, she believed Joseph would rather die than admit to the earl that he had been deceived by his wife.

“Oh, it never really occurs to Trevor to be impressed by large crowds or ceremonial claptrap. But I do believe his wife, Lady Piety, admired it greatly,” Joseph said. The pride was clear in his voice. “She likes you very much. No one can believe I’ve done quite so well for myself.” Joseph gave her a squeeze. “Least of all, me.”

Before she could stop herself, Tessa sucked in another breath and said, “Joseph?”

“Are you aware that you have not kissed me once this night?” he said lazily, staring at her mouth.

“I’ve something that I must tell you,” she pressed. The impulse to tell him increased suddenly, jumping from dull hum to a whip-snapping urgency. If she did not say the words, she would bolt from the room, running away as fast as her legs could take her.

With jerky movements, she picked her way out of his lap and stood before him. Her peignoir sagged, and she yanked it on her shoulders.

Joseph’s arms slid away and he held them out, like he couldn’t believe she’d left him. For the first time, he looked truly alarmed.

“What is it?” He leaned forward in the chair. He waited.

Tessa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She crossed one arm low over her belly, reminding herself that the pain she would inflict was for the baby. Everything she did now was for the baby.

“In about seven months’ time,” she said, “I’m going to have a baby.”

“You’re what?” Joseph’s voice came out in a kind of airy, soundless rasp. He mouthed the word more than said it.

Tessa forced herself to hold his gaze. She watched all trace of affection and indulgence drain from his face. The blue of his eyes went icy with shock.

She nodded, endorsing the thing he thought he had heard. “I . . . I am ashamed to admit that I have not been entirely honest with you.” She looked down at her hands, squeezing them together. “I—the baby will come in May. We think.”

Joseph shoved from the chair. “‘We?’ Who is ‘we?’ Surely not the father?”

“Oh, no.” She winced. “I mean, we—my friends. Sabine and Willow.”

She wanted to tell him about Captain Marking then, to explain what happened—but she had scarcely found the words to reveal the truth of her condition. Who would believe that Tessa, a girl who loved nothing more than flirting and dancing and handsome men had not meant . . . had not wanted . . . had been . . .

She could not even articulate what she had not meant or wanted. She could not say what happened.

Joseph made a low, guttural sound of frustration and hurt and moved around her, careful to keep distance between them. For a horrified second, she thought he would storm from the room, but he pivoted and began to pace. His movements were terse and clipped, his hands on his hips. He looked at the floor.

“Of course you all knew,” he said, speaking to himself. “The advertisement and the marriages were part of a master plan, were they not?” He stopped pacing and stared at her. “Are the other girls pregnant, as well? Is this why the three of you were all so desperate to marry and leave home?”

“Oh, no,” said Tess, holding up her hands in horror. “We . . .” She swallowed hard and started again. “Willow has always wanted to move to London; it’s been a dream since she was a girl. And Sabine, well, you’ve seen how Sabine and her uncle . . .” When Sabine met Jon Stoker, her prospective groom, her right eye had been freshly blackened from her uncle’s fist.

Joseph considered this, nodded, and then resumed pacing. “Of course. ’Tis only you. How ironic.” He laughed bitterly. “I was warned of something like this, you know. Cassin and Stoker said all along that your sudden affection was too good to be true. ‘But why should your girl fall so quickly in love, Joe?’ they said. They hounded me about it—especially Cassin. ‘Her parents are rich,’ he said, ‘she lives on a sprawling estate, and has beaux aplenty. Why leave it all to be with you, Joseph?’ ”

He stopped pacing again and looked at her. His face was tight and his eyes burned bright, cold blue. “Well, I suppose now we know.”

Tessa dropped her head again, nodding to the floor. The tears had begun to spill over, running down her cheeks, and she made no effort to stop them. She’d told herself she could endure his anger and his disgust, that only his heartbreak would affect her. What a stupidly noble ideal. She was loath to endure any of it. She wanted to be loved. She wanted Joseph to love her.

“Who is he?” Joseph asked now, barking out the words. He paused at the window, bracing his hands on either side of the frame.

“Who is who?” For a suspended moment, she was confused.

“The father of the unborn child.”

“Oh,” she said, her stomach turning, “right.” It was ridiculous how little she thought of Capitan Marking. “He . . . he is no one. A . . . an officer who was garrisoned in Pixham for a time. He’s gone now. Forever gone.”

Joseph turned. “Clearly.” He smiled—actually smiled—a mean, heartless expression, pure in its contempt, and Tessa raised her chin just a notch. She might have done a horrible thing and lied about it, but some unknown store of self-respect refused to allow her to be fully condemned. She narrowed her eyes.

“Does he know?” Joseph asked. “About the baby?”

And now she did feel condemned, and she ducked her head. Marking’s door-slamming rejection would shame her forever. She nodded to the floor.

“He wouldn’t have you?” Joseph asked. His voice was flat, not a question.

“Yes,” she agreed, her throat painfully tight. “He would not have me.”

“And so you married me, because you thought that I would?”

Tessa squeezed her eyes shut, wringing out the last of the tears. She swiped her cheeks with her hands. She looked up. “My affection for you was not an act, Joseph, despite what you may think. I wanted to tell you but I . . . I could not.”

It was agony to say the words, but she would not play the victim, not now. She would not implore him. She would not beg.

Joseph blew out an exhausted breath and ran a hand through his hair. He swore loudly. “So why tell me now, Tessa?” He spun on her. “Why not simply allow me to take you to bed and pass the baby off as mine? I can only assume that was the original plan.”

“I . . . I had reached my limit,” she said. “With the deception.” She squeezed her hands into a double fist, one outside of the other. “I couldn’t lie anymore. I could not.” Silently, in her head, she added, I could not love you and lie to you. He was too angry to reveal that love now. She knew he would be angry, but it had been impossible to predict how truly livid. He stalked the room like a different man.

He said, “How lucky that your limit was reached after we said I do.” His voice was so bitter, Tessa took a step back.

We will never reconcile, she thought, watching him pace. Had that been the thing for which she’d held out hope all along? If she had, that hope was now destroyed.

“Will you annul the marriage?” Tessa heard herself ask. Her voice was a whisper. This was all that mattered, really.

Joseph stopped pacing and turned to her, his hands on his hips. His blue eyes pierced her very soul. “And what do you think?”