A Phantom Affair (10 page)

“How is your shoulder?” he asked. “Much better, I hope.”

Somehow she found her voice. “How can you be here?”

He raised his hands. “Never underestimate the wiles of a ghost, Edie.”

“That nickname is growing tiresome.”

“I would suggest you acclimate yourself to it. I like how it feels when I say it, and I like how it makes your eyes snap.”

She put her hairbrush back onto the dressing table and stood. “You aren't answering my question. How can you be here? I thought a ghost was shackled to the place of his death.”

“So that is why you hied out of Wolfe Abbey without saying good-bye. You wanted to rid yourself of me.”

“Do you blame me?”

He grinned. “Not in the least. I shall be a most irritating apparition.” He sat on the high bed and arched his brows as if daring her to scold him for being so bold. “You need not frown at me. I am not avoiding an answer to annoy you. I simply do not have an answer. I was wondering how you fared, and here I am. Mayhap I am shackled to you as lief Wolfe Abbey.”

With a groan, she said, “I hope not!”

“Such a complimentary answer.”

“Would you want someone else invading your life?”

“No.”

Ellen was taken aback by his quiet answer. Gathering her scattered wits, she fired back, “Then you can see why I wish you to begone.”

“How can I when I have a pledge to fulfill?”

She groaned and sat at the dressing table. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Rising, he dropped next to her on the bench. She noted he was careful to keep his coat from touching her. “Look,” he said softly.

“At what?”

“At the glass.”

She frowned at her reflection. Mayhap she was supposed to discern a clue to explain this madness. “I see only me.”

“Only you?” He laughed lowly. “My dear Edie, look deeper. Look at what I see when I look into your enticing blue eyes. See the gentleness within.”

“I am not gentle. I have a temper as fiery as the sun.”

“That only proves how gentle you are, for you have not lost your temper in my presence, save for when you threw that book at me.”

Ellen laughed. It was impossible to remain somber when Corey was determined to tease her. “That should serve as a warning to you.”

“It did.” He gave an exaggerated shiver, then stood. “So you have not answered me. How is your shoulder?”

Gingerly she touched the spot that remained tender. “It is better.” When his face lengthened with despair, she leapt to her feet. “Corey, do not blame yourself. How were you to know?”

“I could have tested my touch on someone else … like Marian, for example. I have tested her patience for more years than she would wish to own.”

“So I understand.”

“What tales has she told you?”

Ellen shook her head. “There are some things you should not know, Corey.”

“I know Marian continues with her plan to find you a husband.”

“You do?”

He chuckled. “One of the advantages—one of the rare advantages—to being a ghost is that I can eavesdrop on conversations whenever I wish. She is in her chambers right this moment—”

“You are wrong. She is with Lord Herrold in the library.”

“No, for Reggie—now there is a lifeless chap if ever there was one—is out in the rain with his dogs.”

“Corey, I left them—” Barking from beyond her window silenced her. When he gave her a superior smile, she said, “I thought they would linger longer in the library.”

“Did you think Marian would let one of Reggie's dogs run tame through her house while she enjoyed a few kisses? I have long suspected her rugs are more important to her than her husband's desires.”

“You are unbelievable!”

He laughed. “Just realistic. As Marian is, for she is writing invitations to an outing on the morrow. She and Reggie are inviting a collection of eligible lads for you to peruse.”

“Tomorrow? Why, your funeral was only yesterday!”

“Life, as they say, continues on, even without Corey Wolfe.”

“But Marian would not plan a gathering so close to the funeral.”

“She wouldn't? Check for yourself.” He motioned toward the door. It swung open.

Ellen looked from the door to him. “How did you do that?”

“I am not quite sure, but it is a handy power to have.” He wiggled his fingers. “I wonder what other bits of magic I can conjure up.”

“Please spare me an exhibition. This is unsettling enough.”

“As unsettling as Marian's plans?”

“How could she? She is your friend.”

“And she is extraordinarily practical. I am dead. You need a husband. She can do nothing about the former, but she feels she can do much about the latter.” He rubbed his hands together. “This shall be most entertaining. Never have Marian and I combined our efforts toward one common goal. You might as well accustom yourself to the inevitable, Edie. Before the summer is over, you shall be betrothed.”

Six

Marian tapped her chin as she looked at the list in front of her. So many details to consider for this gathering. Everything must be perfect. No need to send Lorenzo an invitation, for he would have to refuse. 'Twas a shame. After what she had witnessed upon their departure from Wolfe Abbey, it was possible Lorenzo might wish to be counted among those vying for Ellen's hand.

She smiled. That was what it must be. A contest which the finest suitor would win was certain to appeal to Ellen. How could any young woman turn away from a man who had bested all others to win her attention?

Lorenzo Wolfe would not be Marian's first choice for Ellen. Not even her second or third. Although he possessed that respected title and clearly viewed Ellen with fondness, the Wolfe Abbey lands now belonged to Corey's sister, Vanessa. Marian had heard enough hints of Ellen's past to guess it had been one without many luxuries. If Ellen had not been brought to London and sponsored by the Duke of Westhampton's granddaughter, she might still be living in that dank country to the north. Marian was determined Ellen would have every comfort she wished, for she could imagine wanting nothing less for her bosom-bow.

But which man would be the best choice for Ellen? She had turned down the proposal of a viscount and dismissed an earl's flirting as tiresome. She had been infatuated—at least temporarily—with a man who disdained playing cards and then another who seldom left the board of green cloth. One gentleman who had called was so handsome he could have graced a statue, and another had been as obese as Prinny himself. She had treated each with kindness. Over and over, Ellen had been teased by love, but every time she had ended up unbetrothed.

Marian frowned and tapped her chin. With the end of each flirtation, Ellen's comment had been nearly the same. She wanted a man who was undeniably honest with her, a man she could be honest with in return. No pretense, no court-promises, nothing but honesty. And a man who stirred her heart, bringing to life the aura of romance lying quiescent within her. A man who would not fill her with
ennui
before a fortnight passed.

Did such a man exist for her? Marian dared not cede herself to despair at the thought that no living man could live up to such impossible standards.

When the door opened, she turned on her chair. She nodded to the maid who was bringing in fresh soaps, then turned back to her task. Mayhap she should send for Ellen. The bride-to-be should take part in the choices for the prospective groom.

Marian whirled at a shriek and a crash. The maid was staring at the bed while the soaps were broken in pieces on the gold rug.

“Why are you making all that noise?” Marian demanded.

“My lady,” the girl said with a half-curtsy, “forgive me. I thought I saw …”

She waited for the girl to continue, then asked, “What?”

“I am not sure. Something moved over here.”

Marian set herself on her feet and crossed the room. “What did you think you saw?”

Her quivering finger pointed at the table. “I would swear, madam, that bottle moved from one side to the other.”

“Nonsense!”

“But I saw—”

“You saw nothing. Now clean up this mess, and continue your chores. I shall have no foolishness in this house.”

Corey hastily stepped aside as Marian went back to her writing table. Although she could not see him and probably could have walked right through him, that was not a sensation he anticipated with pleasure. How many times had he chided her for walking over people? She was a determined woman, and woe be to the man—be he alive or dead—who got in her way.

He went to the writing table and peered over her shoulder. When she shivered, he took a half-step back. Blast this aura of deathly cold surrounding him! How was he to fulfill his pledge if he distressed anyone he came close to?

He never had suspected he and Marian would ever work toward the same end. As he read the notes Marian had made, he guessed he would have to do little, save watch. She had listed all the eligible bachelors of gentle birth in the shire. The stack of notes at one side of the desk showed he had not been mistaken when he guessed Marian was not going to be deterred from her quest for a husband for Ellen by something as inconvenient as her husband's kisses.

He sat on the chair by her bed and shook his head. “I thought you would mourn me a while longer than you shall the chicken for tonight's dinner, Marian.”

She looked up at a knock on the door. Corey stood and edged into the shadows as the door opened. Just now, he did not want Edie to see him spying on her hostess. He had guessed Edie would waste no time coming to confirm his assertion.

“Do come in,” Marian said with a smile as she stood. “I thought you were resting, Ellen.”

“My mind is filled with so many things that rest is impossible.”

“Oh, my poor dear.” She put her hand on Edie's arm and steered her to the padded bench by the window. “I wish we had not gone to Wolfe Abbey for the fireworks. Then you would not be suffering so.”

“But you wished me to meet Lord Wulfric.”

Marian sighed. “He might have been a suitable suitor for you.”

Corey frowned.
Might have been suitable?
Marian's demure hits had been amusing when he was alive and could counter them with his own, but he had thought she had a sisterly affection for him. It was unsettling to discover how little she thought of him now that he was dead.

“I am sure Lord Wulfric would have been suitable,” Edie said.

Now that was more like it. His grin returned.

“However,” she continued, “it is senseless to talk about this when …”

“Yes, the dear lad is gone.”

“So it would seem.”

Corey tried to swallow his chuckle, but it burst from him.

Ellen whirled, straining to see into every corner of the room.

“What is it?” asked Marian with sudden alarm. “Is something wrong?”

“I thought I heard—”

“Not you, too!”

Ellen frowned. “What do you mean? Have you seen—I mean, have you heard—?”

Marian interrupted sharply, “
I
have seen and heard nothing. That empty-headed maid who was in here earlier was going on and on about a bottle being moved on the table. Now you are prattling about sounds in the shadows.”

Ellen looked around the room again, even though she would not see Corey if he did not wish to be seen. This was beneath reproach. If he was going to hover, being bothersome to an extreme, he should have the common courtesy of being visible whenever he was about.

“Forgive me, Marian,” she said quietly. “'Tis as I told you. I am too much distressed. Even the breath of the wind against the panes makes me uneasy.”

“I have just the antidote for your low spirits.”

“The most vile spirits may be exactly what I have.” She frowned in the direction the sound had come from—a muffled laugh, if she were not mistaken.

“Then I suggest an outing with some of my dearest friends.”

“Is it not too soon after Lord Wulfric's death for such a gathering?”

“He would have been invited.” Marian's pink wrapper swept out behind her like a train as she said, “I had concocted the idea for this gathering before his unfortunate demise. 'Tis a shame. Corey would have enjoyed what I have planned for the morrow, if the sun does us a favor and shines warmly. 'Twill be nothing formal, simply a gathering of old friends—and new—by the shore.”

Ellen smiled. She hoped Corey
was
in the room. It would serve him right to hear Marian's practical suggestions. A motion in a shadowed corner caught her eye. Corey? Mayhap, but she could not be certain.

Her smile widened as she said, “An outing sounds wonderful, Marian. I would be delighted to meet your friends.”

The day was made to order for a sojourn to the beach. Sunshine bleached the sky to the palest blue, and the sea brushed the shore as gently as a mother caressing her babe. Overhead, birds circled, their songs blending with the sound of the waves.

Ellen was glad a gentle path led to the sand, for she would not have been willing to risk clambering up and down the cliffs. Her white cambric gown was edged with flounces matching the lace dripping from her parasol. The pebbles in the path pricked through her thin slippers, and she wished she had dared to wear her boots. Marian would have been put to the blush by such an ensemble, for she had insisted Ellen wear her best while meeting several of the eligibles in the shire.

Solely to herself could Ellen own that she had hoped for rain today. The whole of her life was a shocking mull with both Marian and Corey anxious to find her a match. At the very least, she should be grateful Corey had not joined the caravan leaving for the beach.

She looked back when she heard a frightened screech. Dear Marian! Only her determination to find Ellen a match would have convinced her to come to the beach. Marian had disclosed on the way to the path that this was the one where she had taken a header, and since then, she had avoided the cliffs whenever possible.