The actor obviously held doubts about his continued employment, but he shrugged and flashed a placating smile. “I hope you are right, Miss Blanchard. I expect, however, that I have just missed my best chance to advance my investigation of the spirit world. A recent ghost sighting was reportedly made at the duke’s castle in Cornwall, but now in all likelihood, I shall never be granted permission to visit there and examine the truth of the rumors for myself.”
“Rotham’s castle is said to be haunted?” Tess asked with mild interest.
“Yes. I only learned of it while researching the play I wrote for your theatrical tonight. I have been corresponding with a scholar who is a noted authority on Cornish spirits. The ghosts at Drury Lane have not been spied for years, but those at Falwell Castle are of recent origin—last winter, in fact.”
Tess pursed her lips in thought. She vaguely recalled that Rotham possessed a castle in Cornwall, but had never heard of it being haunted.
“Still,” the actor added hopefully when she was silent, “might you consider putting in a good word for me with the duke once you are his duchess, Miss Blanchard? If I could somehow garner an invitation to Falwell, I could experience a new ghost firsthand. I would be forever in your debt.”
The return of Hennessy’s good-natured brashness did not surprise Tess, yet almost made her roll her eyes in exasperation. Her life was in chaos, her future with her soon-to-be husband completely uncertain, and all the actor was interested in was researching ghosts? Moreover, he had to know that after the contretemps this afternoon, this would hardly be the ideal time to ask the duke to help him.
Since she owed Hennessy more than she could repay, however, Tess didn’t reject his request out of hand.
“Perhaps a visit to the castle can be arranged, Mr. Hennessy. Meanwhile, I would ask that you oversee tonight’s performance and treat our amateur actors with special care, since I will not be here to assist you. You know as well as I how to flatter their vanity and keep in their good graces.”
“Certainly, Miss Blanchard. And again, I am grievously sorry for taking liberties, particularly if I precipitated complications with the duke in any way.”
As am I, Tess thought as she turned away and headed toward the stables. As am I.
* * *
Tess was grateful when her dependable coachman and footmen whisked her away from her godmother’s country estate in Richmond to her own home some ten miles away.
After her mother’s death, Tess had turned down the baroness’s invitation to come live at Wingate Manor. Instead, she’d remained in Chiswick, near her dearest friends, in her family home. Not only was the charming house large and comfortable, it was less than an hour’s drive to London—a significant advantage since she visited London so frequently on behalf of her charitable causes.
Tess had taken a companion for propriety’s sake, however, in a mutually beneficial arrangement. Dorothy Croft’s presence allowed her a vital measure of independence that she could never have had otherwise. And she provided the widow with a home and much-needed income, as well as a large, well-lit studio for painting her precious watercolors.
Dorothy was actually fairly skilled as an amateur artist, and she had the dreamy mentality of an artist as well. Tess found her companion in the attic studio, brush in hand as she contemplated a blank canvas. When told about Tess’s impending marriage to the Duke of Rotham, the elder lady did not seem at all surprised.
“That is lovely, dear. I am very pleased for you. It is high time you married, you know.” Her eyes clearing, Dorothy suddenly regarded Tess in dismay. “Do you mean to tell me I will soon be out of a home? Will his grace wish to reside here? Do you want me to leave?”
“No, dearest,” Tess said quickly. “You may live here as long as you please. I expect Rotham to remain at his family seat in Richmond or his house in London, and I shall likely move in with him.”
At least for a time, Tess added to herself. Thankfully, he had promised they could live separate lives and even have separate homes once the sensation of their abrupt marriage faded.
Dorothy looked relieved before returning her attention to her canvas. “Thank you, dear Tess. Now if you will excuse me, I must paint this rosebush before I lose my inspiration. I had the most marvelous concept.…”
Tess managed a smile and kissed her companion’s soft cheek, then made her way downstairs to her bed
chamber. She loved Dorothy dearly, but the absentminded lady was not likely to provide much support in helping her deal with her menacing disaster.
With the aid of her maid Alice, Tess began to unpack her luggage from her weeklong stay at Wingate Manor, then tried to decide what gown she should wear for the marriage ceremony and what clothing she would need once she wed Rotham. Her wardrobe was smaller these days, since she’d given away her mourning weeds of black crepe and gray bombazine as part of her resolve to rejoin the living. She had no wedding trousseau, of course—
Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Tess sank down helplessly in a chair.
“Are you ill, Miss Blanchard?” her maid asked in a worried tone. “Shall I fetch Mrs. Croft’s smelling salts?”
“Thank you, Alice, but I will be fine in a moment. I think perhaps I will leave my packing until tomorrow, when Lady Claybourne will be here to help me choose what to take with me.”
Lily, bless her, had promised to bring her two sisters over first thing in the morning. Thank heaven, Tess thought morosely, since there was no possibility of her managing the feat just now. Not when her entire future was on the verge of being shattered.
After dismissing Alice, Tess pulled out her diary and opened it to the last entry, when she had been so hopeful about the outcome of the house party. She was at a loss now about what to write, though, given all her chaotic thoughts and feelings.
“Stop wallowing in self-pity,” Tess chided herself. “Throughout history, women have been forced to make unwanted marriages, and most of them survived.”
And I will too.…
I hope.