Chapter Six #2
Tess shot her an arched brow look. “Not as such. She invited Mr. Prince, and my invite was likely out of courtesy since she
encountered us while we were together.”
“Ah,” Mrs. Well said in her usual knowing tone. “Miss Walcott has set her sights on your famous visitor, has she?”
“It seems so.”
“Many of the ladies will want his attention.” Mrs. Wells shrugged as she continued to sort through Tess’s rejected gowns.
“And it makes a good deal of sense. He’s a curiosity. For a while, he’ll be the most interesting man in Wiggenstow.”
And then he’ll go back to London, Tess thought. The notion, which should have brought her relief from all the ridiculous attraction she felt for the man,
was oddly unsettling.
“How about this one?”
Tess turned to find Mrs. Wells holding up a dress that had long been one of her favorites. The flattering design with a square-cut neckline was made of violet silk with darker plum velvet panels around the bodice and skirt.
“You look stunning in this one,” Mrs. Wells insisted.
Tess shot her a dubious look as she took the dress and held it up in front of her at the mirror. “I’m not sure I’ve ever pulled
off looking stunning in my life.”
Mrs. Wells drew closer and tipped her head to the side. “What’s come over you, Tess? It’s not like you to think poorly of
yourself.”
“I don’t think poorly of myself.” Tess swallowed hard.
“And why should you? You’re the kindest, cleverest young woman I know.”
Tess knew her worth. What she doubted was her judgement.
“Tell me what’s troubling you,” Mrs. Wells pressed in a soft voice.
“I must dress or I’ll be late.”
Mrs. Wells shot a glance at the clock on the mantel. “Ten minutes with me before the fire won’t make you late.” She slid her
arm around Tess’s.
“Very well. Perhaps five minutes.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” Mrs. Wells teased.
They settled into the two worn but comfortable chairs before the fire, and Tess laid the purple gown gently over the chair’s
arm.
“I can tell you’re fretting.” She smiled warmly at Tess. “There’s two wee lines that form between your brows when you fret.
What is it?”
Tess nibbled at her lip, debating what to confide. Debating with herself about whether her worries were silly.
“He disturbs me,” she finally admitted.
“Mr. Prince,” Mrs. Wells concluded without a moment’s hesitation. “Or are you thinking of the past?”
“Both. It’s impossible not to. He’s so very much like—”
“Is he?” Mrs. Wells drew in a long breath, then leaned forward. “You’ve known Mr. Prince all of a few days. Is it not too
soon to cast such judgement?”
“I know you’re quite taken with him.” Tess smiled. She meant no castigation in the observation. How could she when he had
such an effect on her too?
Mrs. Wells shrugged. “He was polite and complimentary and respectful when he visited last evening. As first impressions go,
he makes quite a good one.”
Tess couldn’t argue with her. She’d been ready to have the man bodily removed from Lady Goddard’s the moment she met him and
then wished he’d stayed longer by the time he departed.
“May I admit something to you?” Mrs. Wells asked.
“Of course. You may tell me anything. I always appreciate your opinion and value your advice.”
Mrs. Wells only smiled in reply because they both knew Tess was hardheaded, and Tristan was much the same.
“That man who weighs on your mind from the past did not make a good first impression.”
Tess snapped her gaze to the woman who’d become like a mother to both her and her brother over the last decade and a half.
She’d been so deeply affected by her feelings for Mr. Shaw before introducing him to her father or Mrs. Wells that whatever
impression he’d made could not shake her feelings for him.
“He was a bit rude. Arrogant.”
Mrs. Wells had never been fond of him, and Tess’s father had gently expressed his own reservations. Yet she’d still been shocked when Shaw shattered her heart.
“Why didn’t I see it?”
“Because he didn’t wish you to. The man was a pretender. He treated you well enough, I suppose, so it was hard to see who
he was beyond those moments. Many were taken in by him.”
“And what if I’m blinded by a man’s charm again?”
“You’re too clever for that now.”
“I was clever then too.”
Mrs. Wells laughed. “You were indeed, but you fell in love.”
“Does love make us all fools then?”
She shook her head. “Perhaps there’s a poet or two that says as much, but I think it’s more that love is a risk.”
“I don’t want to take that risk again.”
“Oh Tess, I hope you do.”
“Why? You saw what it did to me. And how poorly people think of me as a result.”
“Who thinks poorly of you?” Mrs. Wells sat up in her chair, squaring her shoulders as if prepared to take on anyone who dared
to look at Tess askance. “Send them directly to me, if you like, and I’ll set them straight.”
Tess chuckled. “I don’t wish to be pitied again.”
“You did nothing wrong, my dear.” Mrs. Wells reached out and took Tess’s hand, holding it gently between her own. “You do
know that, don’t you?”
“I trusted a deceiver.”
“As did Priscilla Walcott, if the rumors are true. The man was convincing, and he’d perfected his vile game.” Mrs. Wells gave
Tess’s hand a squeeze. “Trusting others is not a fault, my girl. Deceiving others is. The fault lies entirely with Mr. Shaw.”
Tess didn’t disagree, and yet once he’d been exposed, she’d felt somehow deserving of the heartbreak and shame.
“Please don’t let what one awful man did mar the course of your life or cause you to wall yourself off from love and companionship
forever.”
“Spinsterhood seems easier.”
“And lonelier. You have so much love to give, Tess.”
Tess bit back tears. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Wells scooted to the edge of her chair. “Now, let’s get you into that pretty gown, and I’ll do your hair.”
Tess reached up to touch the messy knot she usually pulled her hair into. “Oh, we needn’t fuss. It’s just the Walcotts.”
Mrs. Wells tsked. “Nonsense. You should wear those amethyst earbobs of your mother’s. It’s been too long since you’ve had
a proper evening out.” Mrs. Wells stood. “Come, Tess. It’s time to enjoy yourself a little.”
“All right, Wellsy. Do with my hair what you like. Make me stunning.”