“Oh, probably just a Foxworth ghost,” he said, smiling. “Ignore them.”

I knew I looked shocked.

He laughed. “I’m so sorry about all this.” He opened his bedroom door. “In a few minutes, it will all fade away, maybe in a few seconds. Believe me,” he said, with the confidence I was far more used to seeing. He had his arm around my waist, and then, in one swift move, he lifted me into his arms and carried me to his bed.

For a while, at least, he was right.

It all faded away.

Epilogue

When I awoke in his bed in the morning, Garland was already dressed and gone. I left his bedroom and returned to the Swan Room, where I found Dora waiting, sprawled on the rose-colored velvet chaise longue. She sat up instantly when I stepped in.

“Oh, sorry, ma’am. I just dozed.”

“Didn’t you sleep well last night?” I asked, going to the clothing she had laid out for me. She didn’t reply, so I turned. “Did you hear anything, see anything?”

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.”

She sounded guilty to me, guilty of something, or afraid to admit to something. I stepped toward her, and she actually backed up.

“Were you wearing something that belonged to Mr. Foxworth’s mother last night? Don’t lie. I saw you,” I said sharply.

Her eyes widened.

“If you don’t tell me the truth, Dora, I will see to it that you are sent home, and I will have my husband fire your brother. Well?”

She started to cry. “If I tell you, he will send me away anyway and hurt my brother.”

“Not if I don’t tell him what you’ve said. We need to trust each other, Dora. I have to trust you with so many personal secrets, don’t I? You have to trust me with yours. Well?”

She looked down, took a deep breath, and looked up slowly, the tears making her eyes look more like glass.

“I put on his mother’s clothes and lie still in her bed.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know exactly, ma’am. He comes during the night and lies beside me. He doesn’t touch me,” she quickly added, “but sometimes he cries, and then, before he leaves, he says, ‘Please, please forgive me.’ I don’t know if he means me or . . .”

“Or?”

“Maybe his mother. I don’t know. If you tell him . . .”