A Phantom Affair

by Jo Ann Ferguson

“Love? Who?”

  “My stepfather and …” Ellen bit back her answer. What kind of widgeon was she to let her vexation loosen her tongue like this?

  “And?”

  She set herself on her feet. “And I find I do not wish to speak of this any longer.”

  Marian called to her, but Ellen did not slow as she strode away. If she paused, she might have to explain to Marian that her frustration was not totally with Marian’s parochial thinking.

  But how could she speak the truth of her grief at what could never be? She loved two men who had defended their country through rough years with the army. She loved her dear stepfather, who was the only father she had ever known, and she loved Corey Wolfe … hopelessly.

  Ten

  “Corey?”

  At the soft call of his name, Corey sat straighter in the chair near the hearth in Reggie’s book room. He swore vividly when his feet floated up off the floor. Grasping the arms of the chair, he set himself on his feet. How long would it take him to accustom himself to the peculiar events in his life as a phantom?

  “Corey?”

  He frowned. He recognized that voice. Edie! Was she in the house?

  Odd, but he thought she had gone with the Herrolds and his cousin for a ride across the hills. She had told him of her plans last night while he had sat by the hearth and watched while she checked the simple coat of her riding habit.

  His smile returned to tilt his lips. He had to be thankful that Edie remained, at heart, a Scot, who had been raised to believe that ghosts shared the world with the living. Even now, the thought of presenting himself to Lorenzo sent him into whoops. His cousin, for all his imagination when it came to writing his poetry, would have considered himself bereft of his senses and sent for the doctor.

  The wisest thing Corey had ever done was to appear to Edie. Her trust in him warmed him when the cold light threatened to swallow him in despair. As easily as if they had known each other for years instead of days, they would talk. The subject was never important, only that they were together and could share an ease they never would have known otherwise.

  He had learned so much about her from her comments and unique insight into what he considered commonplace. She did not consider her beginnings, far from the Polite World, something to hide, for she appreciated the simple ways of the country as much as the spectacular entertainments of Town. With ease, she had bridged two worlds. Mayhap, he thought with a widening grin, that was why she alone could reach past her living world to see him. An interesting supposition, one he would have to discuss with her that evening when the rest of the house had retired and she could speak to him without the fear of being overheard.

  But why was she calling to him now?

  Corey followed the sound of her voice. He was shocked to find himself in the gardens of Wolfe Abbey. Even though he had not quite determined how or why he could manage this feat, he gave it no thought. As lief, he scanned the perfectly arranged trees and beds of flowers. The shadows could hide nothing from him now, and he saw a slender form striding with unladylike fervor through a copse near the pond.

  “Edie?”

  She flinched when he stood in front of her. He stared at her in astonishment as he noted how her fingers trembled. Tears glittered in her eyes, and her lips were tight with the effort to keep them from falling.

  “Go away!” she said in lieu of a greeting.

  “How charming.”

  Ellen took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She did not wish to suffer Corey’s teasing now. Not when she was so furious! How could Marian be so intolerant? Ellen’s family might not have been part of the elegant society for generations, but that did not mean they were no better than the scum clinging to the cattails at the edge of the pond.

  “What do you want?” Corey continued when she did not answer.

  “Nothing.” She edged around him. “Just leave me to myself now.”

  “If that is what you wanted, why did you call me?”

  “I did not call you.”

  He smiled coolly and shook his head. “You called to me several times, Edie. I may be out of print with my name on a stone in the churchyard, but my ears still work quite well. You called me.”

  Ellen stared at him in amazement. The only place she had uttered his name was in her mind. If he could sense her thoughts … She did not want to consider what that might mean. Regaining her poise, she said, “You are mistaken.”

  “Am I?”

  “Go away!”

  “Edie—”

  She started to walk away, then whirled to face him. “Thunder, Corey Wolfe! Begone from my life. You have interfered too often.”

  “Something is wrong!” He scowled. “You never use such cant.”

  “Everything is wrong.” She hated the sharp sound of her voice, but she had endured too much today to suffer through his not-so-gentle interrogation. “What is most wrong is that you will not leave me alone.”

  His brows lowered to brush his eye patch. “Edie, the last thing you need when you are this distraught is to be by yourself. What is wrong? Mayhap I can help.”

  “I do not want your help.”

  For a moment, she thought he would continue the argie-bargie, but he said only, “All right. If that is what you want. If you change your mind—”

  “I shan’t!”

  “If you do …” His voice grew hard, and she knew she had hurt him. “Just call my name and say, ‘I have changed my mind. I need your help, after all.’ Even a stubborn Scot can change her mind when she finally sees common sense.”

  “Seeing common sense would mean I should not be seeing you.”

  She blinked back the tears that seared her eyes. If she let him woo her out of her outrage, she feared what might happen. This anger could be a barricade between him and the love her heart longed to offer him. That was the truth she must never speak; she must not even think it … or she could hurt him more than she had ever been hurt.

  She did not look back as she strode away.

  Ellen opened her eyes when the boat suddenly rocked. She had sought a haven for her thoughts in this rowboat which was in dire need of a fresh coat of paint. Moored by the small boat-house at the edge of the garden pond where swans swam undisturbed, it was shielded from the Abbey by a gazebo shaped like a Chinese pagoda.

  Although she had half-expected either Corey or Marian—or both—to come looking for her, no one had disturbed her. She must have fallen asleep. Too many nights of losing sleep while she talked with Corey had caught up with her. No wonder she had been so short-tempered with Marian. She must make her excuses to her bosom-bow and Lorenzo for fleeing to hide here while she gathered her thoughts about her.

  The apologies to Marian and Lorenzo would be simple, but how would she apologize to Corey? To let a hint of her honest feelings show was guaranteed to create even more problems. If—

  The boat rocked again. Ellen grumbled as she sat and reached for the rope holding it to shore. Pulling the mooring rope into the boat, she saw the loop that had been over the pier had come undone. With a soft cry, she stared around her. The distant shore was shadowed by a wall of black clouds rising out of the sea. She was in the middle of the pond as a storm was about to pounce on the Abbey.

  “Blast!” she muttered, not caring who might hear, although there was no one about. She had gotten herself into this predicament. She would have to depend on herself to get out of it.

  Ellen looked under the seat and smiled as she pulled out a pair of oars. The paint was hanging in loose strips from the warped wood, but they would have to do. She put them into the water and froze as lightning brightened the sky. Thunder followed quickly. Another bolt crackled as thunder sounded again. Too close. She slapped the oars against the water and pulled hard.

  The boat was sluggish in the water. More thunder cascaded overhead, but the sound of her fearful heart was louder. She had to find shelter from the storm or she could end up as dead as Corey.

  Corey! What had he told her to sa
y if she wanted him to come to her? She could not remember!

  Thunder cracked like a coachee’s whip. She hunched into the boat and fought the waves rocking the boat toward the middle of the pond. Like a bean in a cauldron of soup, she could not fight the froth being stirred up by the storm.

  Light flashed in front of her. She screamed.

  “Edie, ’tis I.”

  “Corey,” she breathed. “You came.”

  “You need to get to shore.” Humor drifted into his voice. “Me as well. I have no idea how lightning might affect me.”

  He put his hands on the oar beside hers. He pulled, but it moved only when she tugged on it. He swore and tried again. Nothing happened. Staring down at his hands, he frowned.

  Ellen flinched as lightning struck a tree at the edge of the garden. Flames burst through the leaves. Thunder buffeted her ears.

  “Move aside!” she gasped.

  “Edie—”

  “You cannot help, so stay out of my way!”

  She bent to her task. The storm was closing in upon them. Splinters caught at her hands, but she did not slow. Lightning glared on the water. She moaned when the thunder followed in the space of a pair of heartbeats.

  The boat struck the shore at an odd angle. Corey jumped out and grasped the boat. He held out his hand, then cursed again.

  “Edie, you have to do it on your own.”

  She did not hesitate. Leaping from the boat, she ran up the hill to the gazebo. Rain scored her like a hundred needles. She climbed the steps into the gazebo and collapsed on the uneven floor. She did not look out. She did not want to see the fire consuming the tree. It could have been her.

  “Edie?”

  Slowly Ellen raised her head to see Corey bending over her. Never had she seen such regret on his face. Wiping rain from her eyes, she whispered, “I am fine.”

  “I wanted to help you, Edie.”

  “I know.” She trembled as another bolt of lightning scored the pond. Sitting up, she stared out at the rain. She looked up at him. “And I wanted you to help me, Corey.”

  He struck his fist against his other palm as he sat on the circular bench that followed the wall of the gazebo. “This is so blasted frustrating! So many times I thought only of saving my neck, and I was proclaimed a hero. The one time I wished to be a hero I failed so utterly.”

  “We are safe.” She held out her hand. “Everything will be fine now.”

  “Will it?” He reached his fingers toward hers. “How can anything be fine when I cannot touch you?”

  “You do not know what would happen if—”

  “I know too well, Edie. To try again to touch you and hurt you again would destroy the dream that it is possible.”

  She sighed as driving rain cut through the ornate latticework … and through Corey. No matter what they might wish, the truth was before them. He was a phantom with no more substance than a dream.

  “Will you explain why you took into your head a jobbernowl idea like going out in the boat during a storm?” he asked. “I should have followed my gut instincts and given chase when you flounced away.”

  “I did not flounce!”

  He smiled. “Mayhap, but you did leave me watching you walk away and wondering why. Now I wonder, as well, why you were out in that boat.”

  Ellen decided it would be simpler to answer his first question. It would be better than speaking of the longings of her heart. Quietly, she said, “It did not look like rain when I got into the boat. Or mayhap it did. I was so furious I did not notice.”

  “Furious? That I noticed, but who infuriated you so much?”

  “Marian.”

  “Are you finally coming to your senses?”

  With a smile, she watched the pond’s water swallow the rain. “I doubt that.”

  He edged closer to her. “Then what did you argue about? Not me, I hope.”

  “Your name was mentioned.”

  “Was it? I was jesting.”

  “I know.” She drew up her feet and wrapped her arms around them as she did when he came to speak to her in her bedchamber. Resting her cheek on her knees, she sighed.

  “You are avoiding answering me. What caused you to be at outs with Marian?”

  “She insulted my stepfather … and you.”

  “At once?” He laughed. “She is becoming more accomplished in her snobbery, I see. Now how did she manage that?”

  “It is not important, Corey.”

  “It was important enough that you came here to be alone, and it was important enough that you flew out at me.” He bent toward her. “What was it?”

  When she had explained, Ellen thought he would make a quick retort. Instead he leaned his arm on the seat and looked across the pond where the rain was slowing to a few sprinkles. The storm racing across the hills had passed as swiftly as it had appeared, but she guessed the one raging within him had not lessened with the ending of the war. Suddenly he seemed a lifetime away, in a place she could not envision, recalling a horror beyond any she could imagine. As never before, she wanted to touch him, to offer him the simple warmth of a human touch as he stood at the brink of the dark chasm of his memories.

  “So Marian deems me less than a gentleman because I enjoy the company of my fellow red herrings.” He shook his head with a wry smile. “Only they understood what I experienced in France.”

  “I would be glad to try.”

  He shook his head. “No, Edie, I will not burden you with that. Not even a soldier’s daughter should have that horror inflicted upon her.” His teasing grin returned. “Shall I teach you the tavern songs we sang while we marched? Marian will be properly outraged if you sang one of them around Herrold Hall.”

  “If you had asked me a few hours ago, I would have said yes.” Too well she knew what that smile meant. He would be as stubborn as her stepfather and say nothing about his soldiering life. To persist in asking questions would gain her nothing but someone else angry at her. “I fear I owe Marian an apology.”

  “I don’t see why. She needs to put aside her prejudices on occasion.”

  “True.”

  “And you need to be honest with me.”

  “More honest than I was earlier?”

  “You were honest when you told me to leave you alone, but you failed to say why.”

  “I wished to revel in my anger for a while.”

  He chuckled. “A worthwhile endeavor on occasion. Are you done with that fun?”

  “Yes.” Ellen rose, not willing to add more. “The rain is passing. I should return to the Abbey. Marian will be anxious about me, and I owe Lorenzo an apology for leaving before he returned.”

  As she climbed down the steps to the wet grass, she held up her long skirts. Corey walked beside her, but no hint of dampness ruined the fashionable perfection of his clothes. It was, she decided, unfair he was not as soaked as she was. Her boots made squishing sounds on every step, and he was in as prime twig as if he were ready to receive callers.

  “So how did the ride with my cousin go?” Corey asked.

  “Splendidly.”

  “Because I was not there?”

  “In part.”

  “Could it be that Lorenzo has touched a tender spot within your heart?”

  “I believe we can be friends.”

  “Lorenzo—showing rare good sense—wishes more.” He matched her steps as she climbed the stone walk toward the Abbey. “Do not pull caps with me on this, Edie. I saw the expression on his face at Herrold Hall. No doubt he is even now writing sonnets extolling your beauty and kindness.”

  “He loves his poetry.”

  “Pap!”

  “Mayhap it is nothing but an air-dreamer’s doodlings, but he enjoys it.”

  “Do you really wish to read his poems, or are you being nice?”

  “Yes.” She laughed.

  “You are too kind, Edie.” He wrapped one arm around the branch of a tree by the path. “Now Lorenzo shall be drowning you in an ocean of his rhymes.”

 
; “Being kind is no sin.” She gasped as water pelted her from the branches.

  With a laugh, he said, “Of course not, but ’tis damned bothersome. Lorenzo shall spend all night going over his collection of poems to decide which are the very best to share with you. A single word of praise from you will bring more and more to read. A single word of criticism will shatter him, so you, being the considerate soul you are, will speak only of the wonders of his work.”

  “You are jealous!”

  “Jealous?” He laughed and shook his head. “Do not flatter yourself—or Lorenzo—that I am envious of the complications about to bind your lives together.”

  She tilted her head, smiling. “Yes, you are jealous. Whether they be good or bad, Lorenzo’s poems will leave a bit of him here when he dies. You fear there is nothing of you here.”

  “A dozen men live because of me.” His boots made no sound as they walked across the stones of the road by the stables. “If not for me, they would be dead. I believe that is legacy enough for any man.”

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  Sharply he interrupted, “I know you didn’t. You are incessantly kindhearted. That can be as boring as Lorenzo’s poetry, you know.”

  “You need not linger.”

  “And leave you to suffer Marian’s indignities as a matchmaker alone? I fear you would be wed unwisely before a fortnight passes.”

  She fisted her hands on her waist. “I have resisted such attempts at leg-shackling me to a husband for the past three years. One thing will never change. I shall wed whom I choose when I choose.”

  “If—”

  “Knew it, I did!”

  Ellen whirled around. “Fenton!”

  “Damn,” Corey muttered under his breath.

  Fenton stuck out a spindly finger and jabbed it in Corey’s direction. “Knew it. Did I not tell ye, miss? There he be before yer eyes.”

  “He can truly see you?” Ellen whispered, looking from one man to the other.

  Corey folded his arms over his chest. “It would seem so.”

  Eleven

  “Damn, Fenton, must you always be right?”

  Ellen was astonished when Corey laughed. From the bent man came a strange sound. She was not sure if the cackle was a rusty laugh or a curse.