“Really?” His eyes widened as he straightened his lapels. “Which one?”
“That fetching blonde.”
“Really?” he repeated. He took one step away from Ellen, hesitated, then turned back to her. “I cannot leave you here alone, Miss Dunbar.”
“I am not alone. Marian will be looking for me, I am sure. She wished me to speak with your mother.”
“About my call?”
Her stomach twisted at the thought, but she forced her smile to remain in place. “I suspect so.” She looked past him. “Mr. Pratt, that young lady seems very, very impatient to speak with you. I think you would be most gentlemanly to go to her side immediately and ease her anxiety.”
She could guess what he was thinking as easily as if his thoughts were her own. He did not want to risk insulting her, but he was intrigued with the pretty lass.
He cleared his throat and said, “Miss Dunbar, I …”
Ellen had to be pleased he did not trouble himself—and her—with some banger before he strode toward the simpering baggage who must be as want-witted as he to flap her thick lashes at him. She chuckled to herself as she heard his loud voice proclaiming his delight to speak with the girl … repeating the same greeting he had given Ellen. The man was a complete dolt!
Hurrying away before Mr. Pratt took the idea in his head to return to her company, Ellen discovered that Lorenzo was now speaking with the minister. He seemed very intent on what Reverend Stapleton had to say. Intruding would be rude. She glanced across the lawn. Marian and Lord Herrold were debating something with broad gestures before he put his arm around her shoulders and leaned her head against his chest. They would not wish to be interrupted either.
Her reticule struck her leg as she took a step in the opposite direction. Smiling, she clasped the silk bag in her hands. She had promised Lorenzo to read his poems before the fair day. Marian had kept her so busy with plans for a new gown for the assembly at the Pratts’ house that she had not had a moment to herself to read them. What better time than now when everyone else was otherwise occupied?
She found a shady spot beneath a tree near the churchyard cemetery’s stone wall. Rose vines contorted over the stones and stretched out into the grass, carrying their heady perfume with the blossoms. With her parasol propped behind her, she leaned back to enjoy the poetry.
And enjoy Lorenzo’s poems was what she did. No matter how Corey might scoff at his cousin’s attempts at writing, Lorenzo had a gift for entwining words to make simple rhymes. These were no grand epics of unrequited love and consummated passions. As lief, Lorenzo penned tales of the changing seasons along the shore and the glories of the gardens coming to life with the first touch of spring.
“Are you having fun?”
Ellen looked up. “Corey! I didn’t know you could come here.”
“I didn’t either, but I thought it worth a try. I have not been beyond the Abbey or Herrold Hall since I dropped perch. It was time for me to wander farther afield.”
“If you came for the ice cream, I suggest you eat it quickly.”
“My misfortune, but food is not a necessity for me any longer. I never realized how much pomp we put into that simple function and how much time we waste.” He sat beside her. “However, ice cream is one pleasure I miss dearly.”
She lowered the pages to her lap. “I am so glad you tried to come to the fair. You haven’t been about much lately.”
“You have been so busy getting that gown made for Pratt’s party.” He leaned toward her. “You are a charming sight in your shift with strips of fabric hanging along you.”
“You watched!”
He chuckled. “Edie, don’t act so shocked. After all, I have had carte blanche to your bedchamber for at least a fortnight now.”
“But this is different.”
“How?” Resting his chin on his fist, he reclined on the grass and gazed up at her. “I have sat in your bed with you, Edie.”
“You make it sound so illicit.”
“Isn’t it?” He picked up a corner of the hem of her gown and stroked it slowly. “With your hair soft around your shoulders and your eyes weighted with sleep, you bring the most deliciously illicit thoughts into my head.”
“Please don’t say such things.”
“Why? Because they embarrass you?”
“No.” She watched his fingers’ gentle caress along her dress. To have him touch her as sweetly, to be surrounded by the warmth of his flesh as his mouth found hers … She shook her head. “Please don’t, Corey.”
“But why?”
She pulled her gown away from him. “You know very well why.”
“Do I?”
Taking a deep breath, she counted to ten, then said, “All right, I shall tell you, my late Lord Wulfric. When you say things like that, I wonder how much frostbite I can risk to satisfy my curiosity about how splendid it would feel if you kissed me.”
He stared at her.
Ellen folded her arms over her chest and smiled, astounded that the truth had silenced him. “You wanted to know.”
“Calf-head that I was, I did,” he rumbled as he sat up. “Dash it! Edie, you were supposed to blush and change the subject.” Kneeling, he put his hands out to her. As hers started to rise toward them, he whispered, “You were supposed to tell me you regard me with the same tepid affection as you would a bothersome brother.”
“I don’t have a brother.” She gasped as the cold seared her fingertips. Pulling back, she murmured, “That was not a wise thing to do.”
He smiled sadly. “Sometimes wishes take precedence over common sense.”
“You’d think I would learn that, wouldn’t you?”
“And that I would.” He cleared his throat and grinned. “If you will not change the subject, I must. What are you doing here by yourself?”
“Reading.”
“What?” He tilted one of the pages and groaned. “You poor thing! Lorenzo’s scribblings.”
She folded the pages and put them in her bag. “He is quite good, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“You have never done him the courtesy of perusing a single one of his poems?”
He flung out his arms. “By all that’s blue, Edie, when do you think I might have found time to exult in such a pastime? While I lay in the French mud, dodging the Frogs’ balls as they tried to put an end to us all? Or mayhap, I might have enjoyed one while I was riding about the shire tending to the unending tasks to be done by Lord Wulfric.”
“There is no need for sarcasm.”
“Then be honest.”
“I was. I think he is quite good.”
He set himself on his feet. “This is a fair day, Edie. You shouldn’t be sitting here alone. You should be singing and dancing and trying to decide which young buck you wish to have bidding on your basket.”
“I did not bring a basket.”
“You didn’t? That is a shame. ’Tis a tradition in the village, you know.” He tapped his chin. “You should not break traditions when you are a guest.”
She stared at him in horror. He could not have—he would not have—he must have, if his grin were any clue. “Blast it, Corey Wolfe!”
Gathering her skirts, she raced toward the table where the baskets were displayed. Corey’s laughter followed her, not growing fainter, so she knew he was close on her heels. She saw Mr. Pratt talking with the blonde, and she sped on the other side of a booth where a barrel waited for someone to hit the target set above it and dunk it into the water.
“Ellen, what is wrong?”
She wanted to run past Marian, but that would cause only more trouble. Pausing, she said, “I want to look at the nuncheon baskets.”
“But why in such a hurry?”
“I—” A ball careened toward her.
She gasped when it abruptly dropped to the ground inches from her head. It bounced off the ground and into her hands, which automatically reached for it. The hard rubber was colder than the ice cream ha
d been. Although she could not see him, she knew Corey had halted the ball.
The children shouted for her to toss it back. She threw it. The ball swerved and hit the target. The cask fell into the tank, water splashing upward. The wave crashed down over Mr. Pratt. He shrieked and leaped back into the blonde. The young woman toppled into a gentleman’s arms and promptly swooned.
Ellen laughed as Corey appeared. He bowed to her, then toward Mr. Pratt. The children roared their approval.
Marian gasped, “How did that happen?”
“Tell her,” Corey said, “that you are tired of Pratt showering you with insincerity, so you sincerely showered him.”
“’Twas nothing but an ill-tossed ball,” Ellen said, although she was tempted to repeat Corey’s words. “I should apologize to Mr. Pratt.”
“Why?” asked Corey. “He deserved the dousing.”
Marian said, “I think you should give him some time to cool his temper.”
“And his ardor.”
Ellen glared at Corey. She had enough problems without him being jealous of a boor. After all, she wanted as little to do with Mr. Pratt as possible.
She went to the table and looked at the baskets. Marian glanced over her shoulder as Ellen read the tags. When she turned over one with her name on it, Marian chuckled.
“Ellen, you have been listening to me! What better way to attract a potential husband than to entice him to join you for a pleasant meal? Why didn’t you tell me you were preparing a basket for the auction?”
“I really had not thought about it until a short while ago.” She picked up the basket. “Mayhap it would be better if we just made a donation to the church and ate this ourselves.”
“Nonsense.” Marian took the basket and put it down among the others. “It was a brilliant idea.”
“Thank you,” Corey said with a chuckle.
Ellen scowled at him, but he only grinned more broadly.
“I told you I was going to find you a husband,” he said as Marian turned to speak with a friend.
Motioning toward the area where the carriages were parked, Ellen said, “I need to speak with you.”
“You can thank me right here.”
“Thanking you was not what I had in mind.”
“Then you shall have to wait until another time.”
“Why?”
He stepped back and bowed as Marian grasped Ellen’s arm.
“My dear,” Marian cooed, “I want you to meet Miss Appleton. Her brother is visiting at the end of next week.”
“And is unquestionably eligible,” Corey interjected. “If you find Kenneth Pratt unbearable, you will learn he is not the worst of the lot this shire has sired. Eugene Appleton, however, is.”
“How do you do, Miss Appleton?” Ellen asked, trying to smile at the pleasant-looking brunette.
“Very well, Miss Dunbar. You are right, Lady Herrold. She is perfect for Eugene.” She gave a giggle, and Ellen glanced at Corey, who only grinned more broadly. “You must join us for tea next week after Eugene comes home, Miss Dunbar.”
“If possible,” she answered.
“It will be possible,” Marian corrected.
Ellen was prevented from adding more when Marian took her arm again and steered her toward a thick-waisted dowager who was holding court on a bench in front of the church. When Corey sat on one edge of the steps, close enough so he could hear everything, Ellen sighed. It was going to be a long day.
Twelve
The crowd gathered for the auction of the luncheon baskets. Marian drew Ellen right to the front of the crowd. Pulling her lace shawl more tightly around her shoulders, Marian mused, “There is a cold breeze today, isn’t there? I hope it does not rain.”
Ellen ignored Corey’s laugh and Marian’s comment as he edged closer to them. If Marian took note of her silence, she made no comment. She waved to her husband to join them.
“Do bid on Ellen’s basket, Reginald,” Marian said, not taking care to lower her voice. “Few of the young men know her. We do not want her to be humiliated, and it is for the church, after all.”
Lord Herrold focused his gaze on Ellen. “There appears to be nothing wrong with this young woman. She has nice lines and the suggestion of excellent breeding.”
“Reginald!”
“You asked my opinion.”
“I did not!”
Ellen did not follow as they strolled away—arm in arm, she noted—but continuing their brangle. What a peculiar marriage they had, albeit not as bizarre as her relationship with Corey. Was it something, mayhap, in the sea air blowing constantly off the water that made everyone here, including her, a bit deranged?
When she saw Lorenzo searching the crowd, Ellen waved to him. He gave her a grateful smile as he walked toward her.
“Forgive me for leaving you like that,” he said.
Corey intruded to say, “That was unlike you, Lorenzo. Your manners are usually unblemished. You must watch yourself, or you shall prove that you are, indeed, as much a Wolfe as the rest of us.”
“I know there are many with claims on your time,” Ellen replied, wishing she could frown at Corey. She did not want to upset Lorenzo. “Especially now when all the people here must be wondering how things will change with a new Lord Wulfric.”
He sighed. “I had hoped that they would respect this day of leisure, but I was too optimistic, I fear.”
“Did you satisfy them?”
“Hardly.” He chuckled, his good spirits returning. “I doubt if they ever could be satisfied.”
“You are learning fast,” Corey said with candid astonishment.
“They are anxious,” Lorenzo continued, “for me to go to Town to represent them during the next gathering of the Lords. I hastened to assure them that they should concentrate instead on the upcoming elections in the borough and send a good man to the Commons on their behalf.” He held out his arm. “Forgive me, Ellen. I shall bore you with my talk of political business.”
She put her hand on his arm. “I do not find such things boring. On the contrary, I am surprised at your interest in politics.”
“Why?”
“Corey said—” She bit her lip to silence the words that would divulge too much.
“You must have had a very interesting conversation with my cousin.” His brows dipped into a baffled frown. “Am I mistaken when I thought you and he met for the first time the night of his death?”
Corey moved aside as they walked past him, but matched his steps to theirs. “Do not bamblusterate poor Lorenzo with too much of the truth, Edie. He might swoon right to the ground if he were privy to it. Think how embarrassing it would be to Wolfe Abbey to have its newest marquess senseless in the churchyard.”
“You are not mistaken. We—” She did not care what Corey said. She wished she could think of a hint of the truth that she could tell Lorenzo. He deserved the truth, but how could she tell him?
Fenton! She must seek out Fenton and discover if he could help her. That might not do much good, for Lorenzo considered the man daft. Still, it was the only assistance she might have.
Lorenzo politely was waiting for her to continue. She gave him a hesitant smile and struggled to devise something to say. Once again, she was given an excuse not to go on.
“Time to take out your gold, gentlemen!” came a shout from the church’s steps. “Buy a basket, and the lady who prepared it will join you for a picnic here in the churchyard.”
The auctioneer—Reverend Stapleton, she realized with surprise—was holding up the first basket.
“About time,” Corey said as he paused under a tree with a view of the steps.
Ellen’s hope that Lorenzo would continue away from the auction died when he stopped right in front of the tree. Could it be possible that he, too, could see Corey’s grin? Don’t be jobbernowl, she chided herself.
The first basket was sold to the only man who bid on it and who eagerly accepted the kiss on the cheek from the young lass standing next to him. The se
cond and third went in much the same manner.
Ellen tensed when the minister held up the one Corey had arranged to be brought here. She wondered how he had managed that, but it was too late to ask now.
“Best of the lot,” Corey said as he folded his arms over his chest.
“That is your basket, isn’t it, Ellen?” Lorenzo asked.
“Yes, but how did you know?”
He winked. “I was not the only one who perused the baskets before the beginning of the auction. How generous of you to take the time to help raise money for our village church!”
“It was nothing.” That much was the truth. She started to add more, then groaned as she saw Mr. Pratt move closer to the auctioneer.
“What is wrong?”
“If Mr. Pratt wins the basket, I swear I shall leave the fair right now.”
“Help her out,” Corey ordered, although his cousin could not hear him. “Spend a few shillings, Lorenzo, to put Pratt in his place.”
Ellen stared at Corey. Was that the reason he had brought the basket? To make sure Mr. Pratt was so humbled that he would leave her alone? She was growing more and more baffled by Corey’s motivations. When he first had spoken of finding a husband for her, he had listed both Mr. Pratt and Mr. Adams as possible suitors. Now he was going out of his way to show her they were impossible matches.
Lorenzo patted her hand on his arm. “Having Pratt win your basket would be a shame. Let’s see what we can do to frustrate his plans.”
“Lorenzo, I did not mean—”
“I know you didn’t.”
Corey chuckled as Lorenzo raised his hand as Reverend Stapleton called for bids. “Lorenzo, you old calf-head! I knew you had some Wolfe chivalry hidden somewhere deep within you.”
Mr. Pratt topped Lorenzo’s bid before the minister could repeat it. Lorenzo doubled his first bid, which brought gasps of amazement from the crowd and a wide, gratified grin from Marian. Mr. Pratt shouted back another bid, and Lorenzo countered without a pause.
Ellen’s smile faltered when she glanced at Corey. He had lost his nonchalance. His brow was furrowed as he stared at his cousin, and she saw his fingers slowly tighten into fists. Although she longed to go to him and ask what was amiss, she could not. How could she explain to anyone that she needed to speak with the ghost of the late Lord Wulfric?
A Phantom Affair Page 15
