A Phantom Affair

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “So what do you think of Mr. Adams?” Marian whispered when the man rose to assist one of his friends in choosing the next bottle of wine.

  “I have not had time to think of him,” Ellen returned, swallowing her irritation along with a piece of cheese, “for I have spent most of my time talking with him.”

  “His family is well placed in cloth manufacturing.” A hint of excitement entered her voice. “I have heard he was recalled to England to be granted a title by the Regent. All in all, he would be a fine husband.”

  Shaking her head, Ellen said, “I have not known him more than an hour. I trust it takes longer than that to know if one wishes to marry.”

  “I knew from the moment I met Reginald.”

  Not wanting to reply with the obvious that the marriage had been arranged when Marian and Lord Herrold were no more than children, Ellen picked another piece of the pungent cheese off her plate. She did hope Marian would be less candid in her comments to the gentlemen of the gathering.

  Mr. Adams returned, smiling. “I would enjoy a stroll along the strand, especially if you would accompany me, Miss Dunbar.”

  Marian jabbed Ellen in the ribs with an eager elbow. Resisting the urge to decline just to vex her friend who was being undeniably vexing, Ellen put her hand in Mr. Adams’s and allowed him to bring her to her feet. She withdrew her hand as they walked away from the others. When he did not press for her to hold on to his arm, she was pleased.

  “You looked as if you were in need of respite from Marian’s matchmaking,” he said.

  “As I said, she is a dear friend.”

  Looking up at the squawking birds wheeling overhead, he chuckled. “And you have more patience than I would have.”

  “You are very plain-speaking, Mr. Adams.”

  “An American habit I have grown fond of.” He bent and picked up something from the sand. He handed her a perfectly formed shell. “This type of shell is seldom found on these beaches, Miss Dunbar. The waves offer little compassion for anything caught in their strength.”

  “I shall take that as a warning.” She turned the shell over in her hands and admired its pale shades blending together in a lovely pattern.

  “Have you ever been a-sea?”

  She shook her head. “My nautical adventures have been only upon a pond or a burn along a Scottish brae.”

  “Mayhap you would enjoy a ride on the waves one day.”

  “That would be exciting.” Gazing at the waves, she smiled. “Although I must own I might change my mind when the last hints of land vanish beneath the horizon.”

  He tapped the shell. “Hold it to your ear.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do so.”

  Her eyes widened as she heard the hushed whisper that matched the whisper of the waves when she had stood in Corey’s rooms in Wolfe Abbey. Hastily she lowered the shell. Why did he plague her thoughts even when he was not about to tease her?

  “Very interesting,” she said when she realized Mr. Adams expected a reaction. “I have never heard its like.”

  “Sounds like the sea, doesn’t it?”

  “As if the shell had gathered the song during its time out in the water and wanted to share it with us.”

  “How insightful of you, Miss Dunbar! You have a gift for poetry.”

  “Only for prattle, I fear.” She put her hand on the arm he offered her and settled her parasol over her still tender shoulder. “It is the curse of the Scots—although others have called it a blessing—to be able to talk endlessly about things of the most insignificance.”

  He laughed as they walked into the curve of the cove. Rocks had been piled by the ocean like a child’s forgotten toys. The waves slapped against them as if urging them to fall back into the sea. Gulls gathered upon them, surveying their domain with all the regal disdain of a potentate.

  “Would you like to sit and watch the waves?” Mr. Adams asked.

  The rocks were covered with plants and debris washed up by the tides. “Mayhap some other time when I am dressed more appropriately.”

  “That is a lovely gown.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I can understand why you would not wish to ruin it.” He shrugged off his coat and spread it across the closest boulder. “Allow me to play Sir Walter Raleigh to you.”

  “Your coat! It will never come clean.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  “I—” She gulped the rest of her words as she stared across the beach.

  In the shadows of the cliff, where his steps would not disturb the sand, Corey strode toward them. He had his coat off, slung over his shoulder, as if he had just come in from a long ride. The sunshine glinted off his ebony hair, casting a bluish tint to the glow around him. As he came closer, his smile was as bright.

  Her heart thumped with happiness … and dread. Each time Corey had appeared when someone else was with her, he complicated the occasion with his comments and his gaze which suggested he could guess what she was thinking. Worst of all, he took no pains to hide what he thought.

  And his thoughts lured her to fall prey to the fantasies of what could never be. She found herself staring at his lips and thinking of them on hers, of his arms around her as he held her against his firm chest, of his fingers combing through her hair, leaving quivers of yearning in their wake.

  Her hands clenched at her sides. Just once, if she could give life to that fantasy just once …

  “Pardon me,” Mr. Adams said.

  Ellen hastily looked back at him. She smiled, hoping the expression looked more sincere than it felt. “I am sorry. I was caught up in the beauty of the sea.”

  “As it should be caught up in your beauty.” He gave her no time to answer as he motioned toward his coat. “Do me the favor of sitting and talking with me. As my coat is now ruined beyond repair, it would seem a waste not to use it.”

  Although she wanted to flee at top speed along the sand, she smiled and sat on the coat. Mr. Adams perched on the rock beside her. Why had she failed to take note this boulder had room enough for two? He had maneuvered her with rare skill into this position. She kept her hands folded in her lap, vowing to take the first opportunity to rise and continue the tour of the beach.

  When Corey climbed onto a rock to her right, Ellen fired him a scowl. He cocked his head at her, looking as much like a naughty boy as any man wearing a black eye patch could. With his elbow on his knee, he smiled a challenge she must not accept. To speak of a ghost following her would persuade Mr. Adams to believe she was deranged.

  She gasped when Mr. Adams lifted her hand off her lap and clasped it between his. Mayhap he was mad if he thought she would allow such forwardness when they had just met.

  Corey chuckled. “This should be good.”

  She resisted glancing at him. As lief, she said, “Mr. Adams, if I gave you any idea I would welcome such familiarity, I apologize.”

  “Your manners have been without blemish.” Mr. Adams’s smile widened his cheeks. “’Tis I, for I cannot resist the delight of being so close to you, who should apologize.”

  “Here it comes,” Corey said. Putting his mouth close to Ellen’s ear, although nobody but she could hear his whisper, he went on, “Miss Dunbar, you are an extraordinary woman.”

  As if he were taking his cue from Corey, Mr. Adams said, “Miss Dunbar, you are an extraordinary woman.”

  Corey murmured, “And I can tell you possess a rare intelligence.”

  “And I can tell you possess a rare intelligence,” Mr. Adams continued.

  Ellen glanced from him to Corey. How was he doing this? If he could read minds … She shuddered. That was too appalling to consider. “You are too kind, Mr. Adams.”

  “How can I be otherwise to such a lovely lady?” Corey asked, grinning.

  “How can I be otherwise to such a lovely lady?” Mr. Adams echoed.

  “I think we should join the others,” Ellen said sharply.

  “Why?”

  “Marian was still un
steady when we left them. I am worried about her.”

  Corey said, “Best idea I have heard all day.”

  Sliding down off the rock, Ellen looked back and saw no sign of Corey. Regret pricked her. Even though he exasperated her beyond common decency, she appreciated Corey’s company while she spoke with the too amorous Mr. Adams.

  She picked up his coat and dropped it into his arms. She set her parasol on her shoulder and asked, “Shall we go?”

  Mr. Adams put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. When she gasped at his brazen motion, he pulled her closer.

  “Mr. Adams, what are you doing?”

  He chuckled. “Are you so innocent that you do not know?”

  “I know,” she said, twisting away, “what the canons of propriety are.”

  His arm swept around her waist as he tugged her back to him. Tipping back the wide brim of her bonnet, he cupped her chin. She gasped when he drew her mouth toward his.

  Shaking her head, she cried, “Let me go!”

  “Hush, my dear. We have talked too much. ’Tis time to use our lips for other pursuits.”

  She shoved against his chest with both hands. He rocked back a pair of steps. Her eyes widened as a log slid across the sand behind him. He tripped over it and sprawled on the ground. Trying to rise, he dropped heavily, face-first, into the sand.

  Ellen stared in disbelief as Corey appeared, shaking his hand. He looked down at the man on the beach and smiled before turning to Ellen. “Thanks, Edie, for the opportunity I have been waiting for since he came back to England.”

  “You hit him?” she whispered.

  “Didn’t he deserve it?”

  Instead of answering Corey, she bent over the man on the sand. “Mr. Adams! Are you hurt?”

  He mumbled something, then spit out a mouthful of sand. “Damn gritty. Forgive me my language, Miss Dunbar.”

  “No need for you to apologize about your language.” She scowled at Corey, who folded his arms over his chest and grinned. She stared at the scarlet mark on Mr. Adams’s cheek. It matched the fiery mark on her shoulder when Corey had touched her.

  “I believe I am fine.” Mr. Adams took her hand and slowly stood, drawing her to her feet. Folding her hands between his, he pressed them to his chest and smiled weakly. “My dear Miss Dunbar, your concern for my well-being is the very best medicine I can envision.”

  She pulled her hands out of his. “If you are fine, then I see no need to continue this conversation.”

  He caught her by the shoulders again. “You must allow me to apologize.”

  Corey stepped toward him. Flexing his fingers, he smiled. “Say the word, Edie, and I shall gladly give him another facer. The cad has been in need of lessons in manners for longer than you can imagine.”

  She bit her lip. Mr. Adams would not be able to see or hear Corey. She was certain of that. Yet she could not keep from tensing. This was all so incredibly absurd. Whoever had heard of an invisible chaperon?

  “Your apology is accepted, Mr. Adams,” she said in her coldest voice. “Mayhap the ways that are customary in America are different from ours in Britain.” She eased out of his grip. “Good day, sir.”

  “Miss Dunbar, it would be tragic to let our friendship come to such an end.”

  “I suspect friendship is not what you have in mind.”

  Again he put his hand on her arm. “You are intuitive, but why do you run away when I only wish to show you how much I admire you?”

  “Sir, I have asked you to desist already.” From the corner of her eye, Ellen saw Corey edge toward Mr. Adams.

  She shrieked when Mr. Adams brought her into his arms. The sound vanished beneath her hand striking his cheek. He released her and scowled.

  “Damn, Edie,” grumbled Corey as he came to stand beside her. “I wanted to do that.”

  She ignored him as Mr. Adams said, “If you think this game is amusing, I can tell you that I tire of it.”

  “As I do.” She settled her bonnet back on her hair. “I bid you good day again, sir.”

  “Don’t understand it,” Mr. Adams mumbled under his breath as he turned to walk away. “Heard she was desperate for a husband. No wonder.”

  Ellen gasped in horror. What gabble-monger had started that rumor? Marian? She could not accuse her bosom-bow of that. It was too awful.

  Mr. Adams took two steps and sprawled across the sand again.

  Ellen turned her back on him before he could see her smile. When Corey appeared on the rock in front of her, she asked, “How can you move from one place to another with such speed?”

  “’Tis mostly an illusion.” He gave her a wry grin. “I learned quickly during my time in France that speed is as much an asset to a galoot as a good gun and an accurate eye.”

  Mr. Adams jumped to his feet, brushed sand off his clothes, and lurched away at the best speed he could manage. Ellen laughed. She could not help it. The man looked like a frightened snake slithering away into its hole.

  “Much better,” Corey said.

  “I should not laugh at someone else’s misfortune.”

  “His only misfortune was to be on the wrong side of the hedge when brains were given away.” He brushed sand from the lace on her parasol. The lace became as rigid as the handle of her parasol, but she ignored it as Corey continued, “You would have bamblusterated him in the wink of an eye if you were not so blasted sympathetic to blind buzzards.”

  Tipping back her parasol, she looked at Corey. “Do I owe you a thank you?”

  “No, but, Edie, you do need someone to keep track of you.” He laughed.

  “I would have handled him by myself.”

  “He seemed to be the one doing the handling.”

  “You are impossible!”

  He shrugged on his coat. “And you are too lovely. I shall have to keep a better eye on you. Do you know how many times I have heard Josiah Adams spin those court-promises to any miss who would listen?”

  “Obviously a few.”

  “Obviously quite a few, especially when you realize he has not been back in England for long.”

  “Be that as it may, I did not ask you to intrude into my life. I would thank you to keep your nose—and your comments—out of my personal affairs.”

  “And break my vow?”

  She sighed. She had no idea how one rid one’s life of a ghost who was determined to play matchmaker … especially when the vow she wished for him to fulfill was the passion his gaze promised.

  Seven

  Ellen lowered her book as the familiar sound of a lilting whistle filled her bedchamber. Glancing around the room, she smiled and plumped her pillows behind her. There was no need to concern herself about sleeping now.

  “Very well,” she said. “I give up. Where are you, Corey?”

  His chuckle seemed to float about the room. It was everywhere at once. Not for the first time, she wondered where he was when he was not visible. So many questions filled her head, but he never gave her a chance to ask a single one.

  A glint by the window caught her eye. Was it just moonlight? She shifted on the bed. When a twinge raced up her arm, she winced.

  Corey immediately appeared by the chair. “Does your arm still hurt?”

  “Not as badly as Mr. Adams hurts after your antics,” she replied. She rubbed her arm gently as she added, “And mine.”

  He smiled. “I thought you were fond of him when you walked away from the others with him, but I hear scanty sympathy in your voice.”

  “What gave you that idea?”

  “You were so solicitous of him, even after he tried to kiss you.”

  Ellen relaxed into the pillows. “Of course I was. How could I not have pity for the poor man when you were plaguing him incessantly?”

  “No more than he deserved.”

  “Deserved? Even if he has the manners of a boor, you were a bit unrelenting on him. There was no need to trip him.”

  “Come now.” He sat on the foot of the bed. “Do you wish me t
o believe you found his company refreshing?”

  “I had not heard his nothing-sayings before.”

  He laughed. “Save when I spoke them first.”

  “Yet you guessed I would find a tendre in my heart for him? Did you think he would make the perfect husband for me? I thought you knew me better than that.”

  “Did you?”

  “I thought we had become friends.”

  “Really?”

  Ellen was about to retort in the same light tone, then saw his smile had vanished. As before, she was amazed by the drastic change in his visage. A fervor burned in his gaze, and the stern planes of his face hinted at his uncompromising determination to do what he believed was right, no matter what others might think. Abruptly she could see the determined man who had turned his back on his family and gone to serve his country on the far side of the Channel.

  “Corey,” she said quietly, “although I never imagined anything like this could happen, I am becoming accustomed to the peculiarity of our friendship. I can think of no reason why we should not continue to be friends.”

  “Under the circumstances, I would say friendship may be the limit of what we can enjoy.”

  She looked away, but not before she again saw the truth she fought to ignore. The attraction they had relished the night of the fireworks had not died along with him. If he were alive, he would not be satisfied with only friendship.

  Nor would she.

  Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. No longer did it seem odd to see the dark patch covering one eye. The incandescence around him had become a part of him. Rising to her knees, she put out her hand.

  “Edie, be careful,” he whispered. “I do not wish to see you hurt again.”

  She dropped to sit heavily on the mattress. “This is unsettling to have you separated from me by this cold fire.”

  “A small price to pay when you can enjoy my company.” He gave her one of those irrepressible grins that demanded she smile back. “And I can enjoy a delightful intimacy you would not offer me otherwise.”

  When his gaze dropped, Ellen tugged the front of her wrapper closed. She adopted a tone of icy hauteur to say, “You are no gentleman, my lord, to take note of my déshabillé.”