She knew Basil at least was grateful to be at Falwell. The next morning before she left to make her daily calls, he sought Tess out.
“I wish to thank you, your grace. I know you arranged this opportunity for me to woo Fanny.”
Tess’s smile was genuine. “I was glad to help. How is your courtship proceeding, if I may ask?”
“Well enough, I suppose. We are arguing far less now, and even when we sometimes squabble as we did in our youth, we make up our disagreements quickly.” Basil hesitated, then ran a hand through his fair hair in frustration. “But I hardly know how to act with Fanny. Do you have any notion what she expects of me?”
“I suspect she is only waiting for you to take the first step,” Tess confided.
“Do you really think so?”
“I do indeed. Fanny is trying very hard to change her ways for your sake.”
He apparently took her advice to heart. When Tess returned to the castle that afternoon and went upstairs to dress for dinner, Fanny burst into her bedchamber, clearly in alt.
“Basil kissed me, Tess!” the courtesan exclaimed, beaming with excitement.
“Oh?” Tess murmured, hiding her delight. “And did he respond with revulsion as you feared he would?”
“No. He seemed to enjoy it immensely.”
“And what about you? Was kissing Basil what you imagined?”
Fanny’s blissful sigh was answer enough. “It was so much better,” she said softly. “One of the sweetest kisses I have ever known. I never expected to feel that way, considering my past. But I realize now that my affection for Basil is what has changed between us. Love makes all the difference.”
Fanny gave another dreamy-eyed smile before wandering off to her own rooms.
Tess was also smiling as she shut her bedchamber door. Even though her happiness for her friends was tempered by caution, it was a good sign that they enjoyed kissing each other. And she had to agree; love did indeed make an enormous difference to felicity.
Her smile faded as she thought about her own unsettled situation with her husband. Fortunately, there was little chance of her falling in love with Rotham. She would never allow herself to risk it, since giving her heart to so wicked a man would only open her up to pain—and she had experienced more than enough pain in her one and only romantic relationship.
Still, Tess reflected, it was best that she hold strictly to her plan to avoid Rotham’s bed and avoid temptation altogether.
It was the following evening after dinner when her willpower was tested. She had just repaired to the drawing room with Rotham, Fanny, and Basil, when Hiddleston nervously informed them that a mysterious light had been spied in the castle’s west tower, shining from one of the topmost windows overlooking the cove.
Rotham and Tess quickly led the way to the tower, accompanied by Hiddleston and Tess’s two footmen, Miles and Fletcher. By the time they reached the upstairs chamber, it was dark and only a slight scent of burned candle wax remained.
Obviously no apparition had lit a candle, but an exhaustive examination of the entire tower and roof offered no clues as to the culprit.
Fanny, however, cleverly made use of the threat to advance her romance by exaggerating her fear of ghosts and pleading with Basil to share his room for the night.
The courtesan whispered her plans to Tess before they retired for the evening. “I don’t want to be too forward with Basil, so I won’t attempt to seduce him. I only want to make him feel manly by protecting me.”
Tess approved, although she was not afraid to sleep alone. That is … until she becam
e the ghost’s target herself.
She fell asleep without much difficulty, but sometime in the middle of the night, she dreamed that Rotham was stroking her cheek. When a low whisper came to her, the discrepancy puzzled her. The rough voice sounded nothing like her seductive husband’s.
Restlessly, Tess rolled onto her side and muttered a reply. Still in that twilight between waking and sleeping, she heard soft footsteps, then a moment later a low, scraping sound followed by a distinct “snick.”
The final noise startled her fully awake.
“Who is there?” Tess demanded as she sat up in alarm.
An ominous silence greeted her. Her bedchamber was faintly illuminated by slivers of moonlight seeping from beneath the draperies, but she could see no one there. And yet …
Her heart racing, she raised her hand to her cheek. The touch on her face had felt very real, like fingers brushing her skin. Boney fingers. Not cold, but warm and human. Not ghostly, but not Rotham’s, either.