A Phantom Affair (20 page)

“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 second 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?

Applause tore her from her thoughts. Ellen turned to see Lorenzo smiling and Mr. Pratt soothing his disappointment with the young blonde who had stayed close to his side.

“Congratulate me, Ellen.” Collecting the basket, Lorenzo held out his arm to her. “The best five pounds I ever spent.”

“I hope you think so when you see what is in it.”

“What is inside?”

“A surprise,” she said with a gulp. What
would
Corey put in a nuncheon basket? She dared not think. She looked at Corey, who was edging toward them slowly.

“You need not worry,” Corey told her. “I would not put anything in there to poison you.”

She frowned at Corey as Lorenzo turned to speak to several gentlemen who came over to him.

“Or Lorenzo,” Corey added with reluctance. “That might not have been the truth if Kenneth had proven to be the victor.” Corey took a single step into the sunshine, then paused, putting his hand to his head. “I shall speak with you back in your rooms.”

“You are leaving?” she whispered, astonished.

“I seem to be most comfortable in the shadows, Edie. This bright sunshine sucks out my energy, making me feel as if I have run from here to London.”

“I didn't know.”

He smiled sadly. “Nor did I.”

“Would you like me to come and sit with you beneath the trees for a while?”

“Enjoy the fair. After all, Lorenzo has paid well for the chance to eat that basket's contents with you. I shall see you this evening.”

A tremor of dismay fled through her as she realized the glow around him was weak, so weak it had almost vanished. Was this what happened when a ghost was sickening? Or did ghosts get ill? She could understand none of this.

“Go, if you must,” she whispered. “Do not stay if it is dangerous for you.”

“Is that concern I hear, Edie, or just elation that I shall not be here for the rest of the day?”

“I own it will not be the same without you being here to comment on everything.”

“I thought you would be pleased to be without my voice rumbling in your ears for a few hours.”

Ellen stared up at him, wanting to speak the truth. She wanted him with her all the time. Even if he irritated her to the point she had to fight to keep her temper from exploding out, she missed him when he was not about.

Love. She loved this phantom who had no more being than a dream. When had she fallen in love with him? When had she been so want-witted as to let her life get caught up in this absurdity? Certainly it had not been when he had been overbearing or when he had played tricks on her as he had today. Yet when she saw the desire in his eyes, her lips ached for his against them.

“Corey, take care of yourself. I don't want to lose the sound of your voice rumbling in my ears forever.”

“You won't.” He brushed the brim of her bonnet with the back of his hand. “I promise you that.”

He was gone before she could reply.

Lorenzo brought Ellen into the conversation with his friends, whose names Ellen could not remember when she was thinking only of Corey. Pretending to listen, Ellen wondered what would happen when she returned to London at the end of her stay with Marian. Would Corey go with her? If he were attached to her as he had told Fenton, then he must. Or would she be restrained from leaving grassville?

The questions taunted her as she walked with Lorenzo to a sunny knoll overlooking the small stream that twisted between thick clumps of wildflowers. When they were sitting on a smooth stone, Ellen cautiously lifted the cloth on top of the basket. She smiled with relief when she saw meat and bread as well as a canister of wine and two pieces of chocolate cake. Corey had been, as always, honest.

Handing Lorenzo a plate and some of the meat and bread that had been neatly wrapped, she said, “Thank you, Lorenzo. I truly appreciate your bidding on this basket. Mr. Pratt's company is—”

“A fate worse than death?”

“Not quite that bad.” Again she lowered her eyes. Death was not the worst fate to be suffered. Losing her heart to a man who was dead was even worse.

“I am glad for your company, Ellen. No one else would wish to speak of the things that you seem to find interesting, although I suspect you are often too polite to tell me to put an end to my babbling.”

She unwrapped her food and said, “Then I shall babble about your poetry and tell you how wonderful I think it is.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

Corey was sure neither Edie nor Lorenzo had heard his silent groan as she innocently uttered those words he had vowed she would speak to another man. The words that would close him out of her life forever. How easy it had been to make that pledge when his mind had been reeling from its passage from life to whatever hell he had been consigned to! He could imagine no torture more horribly exquisite than witnessing this.

From where he stood in the invigorating shadows, he watched Lorenzo's smile broaden as his cousin touched Edie's shoulder lightly. Corey did not move closer, even though he wanted to step between the two. Easily he had thwarted Pratt when the beef-headed block had tried to court Edie. This complication he had not foreseen.

When he heard her soft laugh, something twisted in his gut. Mayhap he was the fool. This should have been the obvious solution from the beginning. Lorenzo was a decent chap, although he had as much imagination as a rock. He would make Edie a faithful husband who would be attentive to her every need.

His fingers curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. Blast it all to perdition! She had needs he did not want to think of Lorenzo fulfilling. His cousin would have the opportunity to taste her soft mouth and draw her slender form against him.

He slammed his fist against a tree. Damn! Nothing! He could feel nothing when he struck the rough bark. The only thing he could feel was this soul-deep anguish. He wanted Edie for his own. All the other women he had avoided entangling his life with had not prepared him for the sensations swirling through him when he savored her pert smile and sharp wit. When she gazed up at him, the anger, which had driven him to the war and back, vanished into a yearning to make her laugh.

A Wolfe's vow lasts forever
.

For the first time, he understood how long eternity could be.

Thirteen

Fenton was perched on a small stool by the door to the stables when Ellen drew in the gig and stepped down onto the crushed stone. Although he looked up, his fingers did not slow as he cleaned the leather harness draped across his lap like a lady's fine wrap.

“I need to speak with you,” she said as she pushed back her bonnet so she could see past the brim to be certain they were alone. If someone else chanced upon this conversation, it might cause even more problems.

“Yer welcome to sit and talk.” He pointed with a stained finger to another stool. His voice remained calm as he asked, “How be his lordship? Thought to see him again, but he be about with ye.”

“I need your advice.” She balanced on the uncomfortable stool.

“Ye can tell anyone ye wish about Lord Wulfric.”

“How did you know what I wanted to ask?”

He grinned at her, and she wished he had not. Even though there was nothing malicious in the expression, she was unnerved by its suggestion that he knew more about this whole muddle than he would tell her.

“What else would ye be askin'?” He gave a shrug. “Tell anyone ye please. No one'll take heed of ye. Just think ye be crazy like old Fenton.”