A Phantom Affair (21 page)

“Don't you think Lorenzo should know the truth?”

“Do
ye
think he should know?”

She rose, unable to sit as she tried to unsnarl her thoughts. “The knowledge might assuage his grief, if he believed me.”

“And that be the rub, missy. Who would be believin' ye?” Again he caught her gaze. “Would ye believe it if ye be told that his lordship be a ghost wanderin' about the countryside?”

“I don't know.”

“Ye know.” He rubbed the leather more vigorously. “Ye would call anyone with such a tale a moony. Advice ye want? Advice I give ye. Be careful, missy. I would not like to see ye locked away in an asylum. 'Tis no place for his lordship.”

Ellen had been about to thank him for his concern, then spun on her heel and stamped back to the gig. His only thoughts were for Corey … as hers were, she must own. There must be some way to extricate all of them from this. If only she had some idea how.

Ellen set her embroidery down onto her lap and stared through the windows making up one wall of the solar. Rain slid along the panes, twisting in contorted paths along the uneven glass. For the first time in days, she was alone with her thoughts, and she did not like a single one.

Her life was becoming too complicated. The questions that had taunted her at the fair still had no answers. By the end of the next week, she should be leaving for Westhampton Hall to join Romayne for the duke's birthday party. If she went, Corey might be forced to go with her. She knew how it would hurt him to leave and mayhap never see Wolfe Abbey again, because she was skeptical about the wisdom of ever returning to this place. He might not have wished for the obligations of his title, but she could not mistake his love for his family's home.

He belonged here as surely as he had while alive. To take him into exile across England would be wrong. Yet, she could not stay here forever.

Could she?

If she had not seen the truth on his face the afternoon of the fair, she might have been able to leave without worry. He cared about her too much. Mayhap he even loved her as she loved him. She could imagine no more poignant irony. He had stayed earth-bound in order to find her a man who touched her heart. The only one who had was Corey Wolfe … the late Corey Wolfe.

A commotion sounded from the garden. Rising, Ellen went to the window. In spite of her grim mood, she could not help smiling as she saw Lord Herrold rush by at the best speed he could. A dozen pups swarmed in a dozen directions, each of them staying just beyond his fingers and yelping loudly.

“Oh, here you are!” Marian came into the room, looked out the window, and shook her head. “I do hope Reginald will think to wipe his feet before he tracks all that mud across my rugs.”

“You love him, don't you?” Ellen asked.

Marian stared at her in astonishment. “He is my husband. What a silly thing to ask.”

“But do you love him?”

Sitting on the chair in front of an ancient tapestry of a knight fighting a dragon in vain, she said, “I suppose I must.”

“How do you know?”

“Ellen, these are the queerest questions.” Her eyes brightened. “Does this mean you are in love?”

She shrugged as she went back to gather up her embroidery. “How would I know?”

“You would know.” She nodded her head sagely. “He will be constantly in your mind. Even in your dreams. When you dance with him, you tingle as if you stood too close to a pond in a thunderstorm.”

“Dance …” she whispered.

“Aha!” Marian wore her broadest smile when Ellen looked at her.

“Aha what?”

“Dance! You are thinking of Kenneth Pratt, aren't you?”

She shuddered at the very thought. “Please, Marian, that is not funny, even in jest.”

“I did not mean it as a jest.”

“Then it is even less funny. The man thinks only of himself and his own pleasures.”

“Reginald might be described much the same, and he is a good husband to me.”

“Reginald is nothing like Kenneth Pratt!”

“No?” Marian glanced toward the window and smiled gently. “In some ways, they are much alike. There are those who say Reginald thinks only of his dogs. That is true. Reginald concentrates much of his time on his beloved dogs, but he does love me at least as much.” Her smile became more genuine. “And that is very, very much, Ellen.”

“I am glad.”

“But if you have no
tendre
for Kenneth, then who?”

Ellen should have guessed her friend would come back to her question with all due speed. Just as she was about to answer, although she had no idea what she might say, a maid rushed in.

“Milady,” the woman cried, “Cook tried to keep him out until he cleaned his boots, but—”

Marian flung her hands into the air as her husband rushed into the room. “Reginald, look at the mess you have made of my rugs!”

“Forgive me. I am all at sixes and sevens.” He looked as if he might weep. “One of the pups has vanished.”

Marian's anger vanished immediately as she put her hands out to him. “Dear Reginald, surely you miscounted the litter.”

“No, one has run away.” He dropped onto a brocade-covered chair, ignoring his wife's wince as the dampness on his coat stained the white fabric. “The best of the lot. She's young, but she can already follow a burning scent right to the breeding earth. Dash it!”

“Can we help you look?” Ellen asked.

He shook his head. “'Twill soon be dark.” Putting his hand over Marian's as she knelt beside his chair, he sighed. “All we can do is hope she will return.”

When Marian leaned her head on his arm, Ellen went out into the hallway and climbed the stairs to her bedchamber. Once she was certain she was alone in the room and that the door to the dressing room was securely latched, she called out Corey's name.

“Over here,” came back the answer.

Ellen whirled to see him sitting on the chair by the hearth. When he cautiously came to his feet, she asked, “Is something wrong? How do you feel?”

“I am dead. How do you think I feel?” he fired back.

“You look … different.”

“How?”

She shrugged. “I am not sure.”

“If I could see my reflection in a glass, I might be able to help you.” His jaunty tone sounded coerced. “So what can I do for you today, Edie? Do you need something, or are you simply lonely between calls?”

“Corey, what is wrong?” She took a step toward him, then paused when he turned and walked away to look out the window. “Something is bothering you.”

“Nothing important.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Mayhap 'tis nothing more than I grow tired of this folly. You should stop delaying and choose a husband, Edie, so I might rid myself of this baleful existence which is neither life nor death.”

“Is it so terrible?”

When he faced her, she saw the truth on his face. She never had viewed such misery. “'Tis more terrible than you can guess.” He shook himself and smiled. “But there is no need to linger on such grim thoughts when you wished to speak with me. What is it?”

“Nothing of import.”

“You know how useless it is to try to fill my head with your out-and-outers. The truth, Edie.”

“That is the truth.” She sat on the bench in front of her dressing table and looked up at him. “Lord Herrold is all upset about his pups, and I wished to speak of something else. That is all.”

“Then we shall speak of other things. What—?”

Ellen glanced toward the door when the impatient knock sounded a second time. Rising, she went to open it.

A maid bowed her head toward Ellen. “Lady Herrold wishes to remind you dinner is ready.”

“Thank you. I shall be down in the catching up of a garter.”

The maid nodded and walked away.

Ellen turned, but swallowed the words on her tongue. The room was empty. She went out into the hall and closed the door behind her. Although she waited, no glow filled the long corridor, save for the light from the lamps.

Something was amiss with Corey. That was evident, but she could not guess what the problem might be … unless he had been honest. Mayhap he
was
disgusted with being caught in the nether regions between life and death. Mayhap it was time for her to make a decision. She just must make sure it was not one she would regret for the rest of
her
life.

No one spoke in the grand dining room as dinner was served. Ellen worried her linen napkin and stared at her plate. The idea of eating threatened to make her ill. Listening to the patter of rain on the windows that swept from the floor to the friezed ceiling fifteen feet above, she glanced at her hosts. Lord Herrold had eaten no more than she had, and Marian was toying with her roast beef as if she, too, had lost all interest in eating.

“My lord,” announced a footman, “Lord Wulfric awaits you in the foyer.”

Lord Herrold tossed his napkin on top of his food. “What is Lorenzo doing out on such a dreary night?”

“Mayhap we should go and find out,” suggested Marian. She smiled weakly at Ellen. “You may stay and eat if you wish.”

“Alone?” She shook her head. “This will give me the chance to thank Lorenzo for his company at the fair.”

Marian's smile broadened, and Ellen knew her answer was just what her friend had hoped to hear.

The foyer was bright with the brass chandelier hanging from the rotunda roof two floors above. Lorenzo smiled as they came into the octagonal room. He looked down at the mud dripping onto the marble floor. “Forgive me for making such a mess, but Reggie, I thought you might wish this returned to you without delay.”

Lord Herrold rushed forward as Lorenzo swept aside his coat and pulled out a wet, matted ball of fur. “Where did you find her?” He cradled the shivering pup in his arms, climbing the stairs and turning toward the parlor.

“Not my parlor,” moaned Marian as she hurried after him. “Reginald, not on my best settee.”

Ellen exchanged a smile with Lorenzo. As the footman took his soaked greatcoat, she said, “You are considerate to come out on a night such as this.”

“Reginald loves his dogs more than anything in the world, save his wife.”

“Mayhap.”

He chuckled. “At least as much as he would children of his own. I would not have left a toddler by the side of the road, and to own the truth, I saw her on my way to stop by and bring you this.”

He held a book out to her. The leather was spotted with rain, but the pages were dry as she opened it. Her eyes widened as she saw the writing on the page facing the frontispiece.

To Ellen
,

Friendship is a gift beyond any words I can utter, so I pray these simple poems will speak for me
.

With affection
,

Lorenzo Wolfe, Lord Wulfric

Ellen paged through the book and discovered it was a collection of his poems which he had copied onto the blank pages. “Lorenzo,” she whispered as she closed the book, “I am overwhelmed. I never have had such a wondrous gift.”

“It is not as wondrous as the gift you gave me at the fair.”

“I gave you something?”

He smiled and took her hand between his. “You did not chide me for my silly avocation.”

“Your poetry is not silly.”

“See?” He stroked her fingers gently. “That is what I mean. I can imagine no finer gift to give a man than your faith in what he does.”

Ellen stepped back, trying to make the motion seem spontaneous. She recognized that glow in his eyes. It was a tamer version of how Corey looked at her when he spoke of his yearning to hold her. What a muddle this was! If Lorenzo had more affection for her than was appropriate between friends, the situation was guaranteed to become even more addled.

And she had no idea how to undo all the tangles before each of them suffered from a broken heart.

Ellen knocked on the door to Marian's private chambers. When a maid opened the door, Ellen walked into the room, which was flounced with pink and white lace on every surface. The heavy scent of Marian's favorite perfume clogged every breath and rose from the Turkish carpet as Ellen went to where Marian was reclining on a chaise longue. Even Marian's wrapper was white with pink lace edging the modest neckline.

Marian stood and kissed Ellen on the cheek. “My dear, you look positively glowing this morning.”

“Do I? I do not feel glowing.”

“Can I hope you are in love?”

“Yes.”

Marian's eyes widened. “Yes? You are in love? Deeply in love? Forever in love? This is more than just calf-love this time?”

“I fear so.”

“With whom? When will the announcement come? Oh, my dear, I must begin planning an assembly to give you a chance to proclaim these wondrous tidings to the shire. I—”

“Marian!”

“—think a light supper will be perfect. The weather has been too warm for more. If—”

“Marian!”

“—we want to do more, we might consider a party with lanterns in the garden. Think of it, Ellen! It would be so lovely if the moon was new and the stars were out. Then—”

“Marian!”

Her exasperation must have reached her friend, for Marian said, “Yes?”

“Please sit, Marian.”

“What is wrong?” She pressed her hand to her chest. “Oh dear, are you saying you are not about to announce your betrothal?”

“Please sit, Marian. Let me have a chance to explain.”

She obeyed.

Ellen took a deep breath, then released it. Delaying would not make this easier. “I want you to listen and to believe that I am not insane.”

“Ellen, what—?”

“Listen please.”

“Very well.” She smiled. “My dear, you know I wish only to see you happy.”

“I know.” Ellen did not add that she doubted if that was still possible. “Marian, I know no other way to tell you this than to be blunt. This house is haunted, and the ghost is Corey Wolfe.”