“My lord, ye did not heed m’warnin’ before, so ye should know that I would be hauntin’ ye as ye be hauntin’ the Abbey.” Fenton’s eyes slitted farther until they were but dark creases. “I did not suspect she could be seein’ ye as well.”
“’Tis a shock to us, too.” Corey sat on the low wall at the edge of the walk and rested his shoulder against the thick trunk of a tree. “So what do you know of all of this, Fenton? You have long been a fountain of information on the trivial traditions of Wolfe Abbey. Am I the only one of its past lords wandering about its halls now?”
“Ye be gone before yer time, so the Abbey holds ye here. No lord has left early. Ye be connected to the grounds until yer time comes.”
“I don’t seem to be connected to the Abbey, but to Miss Dunbar.”
Fenton’s eyes widened. A toothless grin spread across his face. “That be jiggumbob, my lord. Never heard the like. She don’t be family.” He reached out and patted Ellen’s stomach. “Or is she?”
She pulled back in horror.
Corey’s voice darkened. “Fenton, you insult Miss Dunbar.”
“But not ye, my lord.” He cackled his amusement again and winked bawdily. “So she not be took with yer child. Shame, my lord. ’Twould explain much. No other reason that she should see ye.”
“She was with me when I popped off. I made a vow—a death vow, it seems—to her to find her a husband. So here I remain while she seeks one.”
When Edie stepped back to stare at both of them, Corey tensed, wondering what she would say. She looked bedraggled in her soaked habit, but he could not ignore how it clung to her body, accenting each enchanting curve. If he had been a little less dead, he suspected such a sight would have pumped life right back into him. Her eyes were wide in her colorless face.
“Why can he see you?” she whispered, batting away the water dripping off the brim of her hat. “Neither Marian nor Lorenzo have been able to see you. Mr. Pratt—”
“Couldn’t see anything beyond that arrogance of his.” Corey jumped down from the wall and walked to her. Raising his hands, he drew her battered hat off her head.
She put up her fingers to touch her hair, which was frosty beneath his touch, then said, “Corey, you aren’t answering me.”
“Because I have no answer.” He glanced over his shoulder at Fenton, who was watching with a triumphant grin. “It would be easier, I own, to believe that he can see me than that you can. Fenton has been seeing things for years.”
“And now ye understand, don’t ye?” The old man chuckled. “I ain’t half-mad.”
When Edie shivered at Fenton’s words, Corey longed to draw her into his arms and comfort her with his mouth on hers. This was not how he had thought it would be after he died. Mayhap this was his version of the Black Prince’s pit. He could look upon Edie’s loveliness but never would be able to touch her. If this continued, he was sure to be more than half-mad himself.
“Fenton, Miss Dunbar has taken a chill from the storm,” Corey said, glad of the excuse to put an end to this uncomfortable conversation. “I must escort her back to the house. I shall see you later.”
“And I shall see you.” Fenton lurched toward the stables.
Ellen took the hat Corey held out to her, careful not to let her fingers brush his. As they continued along the curving path, she looked back toward the stables. There were not many times in her life she had been shocked speechless, but Corey had been witness to two of them. He seemed as overmastered, because, for once, he was silent.
“Do you believe him?” she asked as they walked past the strawberry beds. “Do you think you will remain connected to me and to this life until the proper hour comes for your death? I thought you could be freed from your ghostly state once you did as you had vowed.”
“I have no idea what to believe any longer.” His grin returned as he knelt and plucked some berries from beneath the leaves. “I think it would be best if no one else knew I was about.”
“Who else might see you?”
He dropped the berries into her hand and smiled when she yelped with the cold. “No one should be able to see me now. I suspect you and Fenton are the only ones lucky enough.”
Ellen popped the icy berries into her mouth and smiled at their sweetness. To own the truth, such a simple, commonplace treat was the perfect antidote for her disquiet. “I know the dangers of telling anyone else what I have seen. No one would believe me, not even Marian.”
“Especially you should not tell Marian.”
“Why?”
“She is so easily obsessed. She would rip apart the Abbey in an attempt to discover where I might be.” He grinned as they crossed the lawn to the steps by the side door. “She still is rankled that she never managed to repay me for my last prank.”
“Which one was that?”
“No doubt you have heard her lambasting poor Reggie for his pup that ruined her best rug.”
“You arranged that?” she asked, climbing the steps.
He smiled. “It was never my intention to inflict such damage on her house. I had thought to tease her stiff-necked husband. However, before Reggie even missed the beast, the pup had left her mark on Herrold Hall.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Should I?” He stepped closer, and she leaned against the door, staring up at him. “Should I be more ashamed of such an accident than of the thoughts filling my head when I see you?”
Even though she knew she was inviting danger and despair, she whispered, “What thoughts are filling your head now?”
“Of how soft your skin would be beneath my fingers.” His hand curved along her face, leaving a finger’s breadth between it and her cheek.
She held her breath, ignoring the chill as warmth swelled through her. Softly she said, “Corey, you should not torment yourself like this.”
“And you?”
Looking up at the intensity glowing in his gaze, she nodded.
“You have never wondered what it would be like if I were to kiss you?”
“I wonder far too often. I—”
Ellen heard Corey’s sudden laugh as the door opened and she dropped, ignobly, onto the foyer floor. As Lorenzo’s footman hurried to apologize, she stared out the door. Corey gave her a wave and vanished.
“What is this?” Marian called from the stairs. She rushed down as Ellen rose. “Oh, thank heavens! Here you are! Where have you been? Lorenzo and I have been beside ourselves having the house searched for you. It was not very gracious of you to send Lorenzo back to the house and not wait for him to come back.”
“Marian, I am fine.”
Grasping Ellen’s hands, she said, “My dear, I am so sorry if I said something to hurt you. You know you are as dear to me as anyone, and I would never wish to bring you pain.” She hugged Ellen, then pulled back. Her forehead threaded with a frown. “Your habit is cold!”
“Isn’t that peculiar?” she asked, and turned away before Marian could see her expression.
“How can the fabric be cold when the weather has been so warm?”
“Marian, I think I should return to Herrold Hall posthaste and change into something dry.”
“Nonsense,” came a deeper voice from the shadows.
Ellen smiled as Lorenzo walked across the dusky foyer to them. “I owe you an apology,” she said.
“We can speak after you get yourself more comfortable.” His voice was as stiff as if they were strangers.
“I shall order a bath for her,” Marian said. “Then once she is cozy, we shall have a nice cup of tea and a pleasant talk. Doesn’t that sound fine?”
“Fine,” he replied.
“Come along, Ellen. You are dripping on the floor, you know.”
Ellen drew her arm out of Marian’s grasp. “I shall be right with you. I have something I need to tell Lorenzo first.”
“There is no need—” he began.
“Ellen, you shall sicken,” interrupted Marian. “If—”
“Ma
rian!” Clenching her hands, she heard the brim of her hat crack. She was tired and cold and hot and wet and miserable for more reasons than she wanted to think about, but she would be doomed to perdition before she was silenced again.
“Really,” murmured Marian, her hands fluttering about her.
“Marian,” Ellen said in a calmer voice, “forgive me. I should not have taken that tone with you. You are my friend.”
“I have wondered about that of late. You have been so distant from me, and you fly up to the boughs each time I speak to you. I wish I knew what was wrong.” Tears filled her wide eyes. “I wish …” Then Marian rushed up the stairs.
Ellen sighed. “Now she shall be in a pelter at me, too.”
“Too?” asked Lorenzo.
“You are angry with me, aren’t you?”
“I own that I was until Marian told me how she had upset you.”
“She did?”
He smiled, and the sternness drained from his face. “Marian owns up to her mistakes … on occasion.”
“But I thought you were distressed that I had left when I told you I would wait.”
Drawing her hand within his arm, he led her up the stairs. “It is just as well you showed the wisdom to find another place to enjoy the day. I was coerced into helping Reggie search for his missing pup. He did not wish to halt even when the storm came.”
“Did you find it?”
He chuckled. “After another count, lo and behold! The pup had been there all along.” At the top of the stairs, he stepped back. “I hope you still wish to read some of my efforts at writing.”
“Certainly.”
He reached under his coat and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Will you let me know your honest opinion at the church fair at the end of the week?”
“A church fair?”
“Marian assured me that you were attending with her.” He smiled. “It is nothing fancy, you should know.”
By now, Ellen was accustomed to Marian’s machinations and knew how useless it was to argue. “I have not been to a church fair since I left Scotland.”
“This fair has been held every summer for as long as the church has kept records and before that. We thought it might amuse you and get your mind off …”
She hurried to say, “It sounds wonderful, Lorenzo.” No doubt he needed to find a rest for his thoughts as much as she did.
Putting her hand on his arm, she said nothing. Words could not express his grief, which she understood too well. Awkwardly, he patted her hand, then drew away. She feared she had embarrassed him when he urged her, rather gruffly, to take all the time she wished before she came down to join them for some wine before dinner.
As Lorenzo turned to go back down the stairs, Ellen’s eyes were caught by a glimmer at the bottom. Her heart did a flip-flop, but the glow slowly faded. It must have been no more than a trick of the day’s last light.
Her steps were heavy as she turned toward the room where her bath would be waiting. She had learned to accept Marian’s matchmaking, but she doubted she ever would be able to keep her heart from breaking each time she realized her love for Corey was hopeless.
“Delicious!” Ellen laughed as she licked her sticky fingers and looked at the woman serving ice cream at the table in the shadow of the village church’s square steeple. Beside her, Marian was trying to eat her ice cream without making a mess. The warm day was conspiring against them, melting the generous portions of chocolate ice cream over the edges of the dishes.
Lorenzo offered his handkerchief. “Will this help?”
“Not much.” Ellen set her empty dish on the table by the huge elm that shadowed the churchyard. “I fear I would need a dozen handkerchiefs to repair this mess.”
“I look a complete rump,” Marian moaned as the ice cream dripped onto her light green dress. “Fudge!”
Her husband glanced up from the book he was reading to regard her somberly. “Not fudge, my sweet, but ice cream, I believe.”
Ellen choked back a laugh and was grateful when Lorenzo pointed toward a trough by the road. Going to it, she plunged her hands into the cool water, being cautious that her reticule did not get wet. She rubbed the stickiness from them and said, “Thank you.”
“The water was here without any effort by me.”
“Not for this.” She shook her hands, then grimaced as water spotted her white silk dress. She and Marian would make quite the pair during the fair day that had only begun. “Thank you for giving me an excuse to scurry away before I laughed at Lord Herrold.”
“He would not mind.”
“No?”
Lorenzo smiled and held out his arm. “I collect he would not even notice. I have met only one other man in my life who was so single-minded.”
“Corey?”
Nodding, he walked with her across the lush grass to where a group of children were excitedly trying to hit a target that would send an empty barrel into a large tub of water. He paused by a table where two young women were selling lemonade. Paying the two pennies for two glasses, he handed one to Ellen.
“You have,” he said, after taking a sip, “a clear insight into a man you met so briefly.”
“It is not just that. You get this expression of sadness when you think of him.”
“I had no idea.” He linked his arm through hers as they continued to stroll around the church grounds. “I must own the truth, though. Corey was even more ill-suited than I for this life as the Marquess of Wulfric. He was always looking for adventure. Even as a lad, he would flee out of the nursery and spend the night on the shore.” He nodded a greeting to a man who was rushing past with a bucket of biscuits. “He should have been a second son who could have made a career in the military.”
“He hated the army.”
“He did?” He paused. “How do you know?”
Ellen knew she must not hesitate. “Just from what I have heard.”
“I do own that the Abbey is incredibly empty with just me knocking around in it.”
She smiled. “Be careful. If you say something like that in Marian’s hearing, she will have you airing out the ballroom so quickly your head will spin.”
“True. She, too, is single-minded, surpassing even her husband and Corey.”
“Unquestionably.”
Ellen listened to Lorenzo describe the history of the simple church as they wandered around the grounds and past the table where baskets were set, waiting for gentlemen to bid on a chance to win the contents and the company of the young woman who had prepared the meal. She had noticed the village lasses watching the lads try to peek at the names pinned to the cloths atop the baskets. She looked forward to the chance to watch the auction while she relished the meal Marian’s cook had prepared for them.
When Lorenzo was called away by a group of stern-faced gentlemen who used his title in every other sentence, Ellen felt sorry for him. Even if Corey had not told her how much Lorenzo despised these obligations of his title, she would have guessed that from the way his thin shoulders hunched and his voice softened to little more than a whisper.
She decided to look about and come back to his rescue in a few minutes. Not even the town’s council should demand all of the marquess’s time on a feast day.
“Miss Dunbar!”
Ellen closed her eyes and wondered if there was any way to wish away Kenneth Pratt. When he shouted her name a second time, she turned to face him. Smiling was almost impossible, but she managed it when Mr. Pratt swaggered toward her. Did he have no idea how ludicrous he looked as he paraded about like a bull in a meadow of uninterested cows? No, some of the lasses were eyeing him eagerly. Inspiration struck her when she saw that a pretty blond lass was one of his most candid admirers.
Mr. Pratt was dressed to catch a young woman’s eye, for his navy coat was the perfect match for his buckskin pantaloons. Gold sparkled on his fingers and from the chain connected to his garret where his watch fob waited for him to draw it forth to show his importance. The shine on his boots bes
poke much attention by his valet.
If he were not so impossibly vain …
“Ah, Miss Dunbar,” he crowed as if he thought everyone in earshot were interested, “how delighted I am to see you!”
She suffered him to kiss her hand lustily, but pulled it back before he could do more. “This is a wonderful day for the fair, isn’t it?”
“I had hoped you would seek me out upon your arrival.”
“Me? Seek you out?” She clamped her lips closed. This man was incredible! If he were not so annoying, his self-satisfied affectations would be entertaining.
“Of course.” He drew her hand within his arm. “Did you think I missed the eager glances you gave me during my call at Herrold Hall?”
Mayhap, like Marian, he equated queasiness with falling in love, for she had been eager only to rid herself of his company. Stepping away from him, Ellen smiled. “Mr. Pratt, you should know that Lord Wulfric escorted me and the Herrolds to the fair today.”
“Good of him.”
“Yes.”
He had not been so pleasant about Lorenzo before. She wondered why he was today.
“Lorenzo and Marian have been friends for many, many years,” he said. “What a shame she married Herrold! Lorenzo would have made her a better match.”
Ellen stared at him in disbelief. “Mr. Pratt, you are quite mistaken.”
“I do not make mistakes as a custom.”
She doubted that, even though she was sure he seldom owned to any error. “Mayhap not, but Lorenzo and Marian would have driven each other mad if they were wed.”
His booming laugh made heads swivel in their direction. Seeing the wide eyes and imagining what was being whispered, Ellen wished Mr. Pratt were as invisible as Corey … and haunting someone else.
“You are so amusing,” he crowed. “As if they were not already crazy as it is.”
As I must be to allow this conversation to continue, she thought. Pasting her most innocuous smile on her lips, she said, “Mr. Pratt, I may be mistaken—”
“How wise of you to own to that. Mayhap you will see that you need a more astute head to guide you.”
Not yours, for only the greatest stretch of the imagination would label you anything but a widgeon. “I may be mistaken,” she began again, “but I think that young woman over there is eager to speak with you.”
A Phantom Affair Page 14
