A Phantom Affair (23 page)

“Yes, I realize that.”

“Then you will accept Mr. Pratt's proposal?”

Ellen laughed suddenly. “Marian, he has said nothing of a proposal.”

“He will.” Her voice grew darker. “He will. I promise you that.”

Ellen peeked into the glass and touched the flowers in her upswept hair. White roses were the consummate complement for her gold silk gown. Adjusting the deep neckline that dropped in a vee across her breasts, she looked down at the row of roses sewn to the hem of her gown. Her white kid slippers matched her white stockings and gloves.

She was dressed perfectly for the dance at Pratt's country house this evening. Everything was in place to snag a
fiancé
, save for her heart which, with every beat, reminded her of her hypocrisy.

“Very nice.”

Her heart thudded against her breast. Ellen smiled at Corey, who dropped to sit on the bed. “Thank you.”

“So you will be Pratt's guest tonight?”

She sighed. “He is anxious to welcome me to his mother's house.”

“Is that what he is anxious for? That is not what I would have guessed.”

“I had hoped,” she replied, not acknowledging his comment, “in the wake of what happened at the fair, he would be more interested in that young blond woman who caught his eye.”

He laughed and stretched out across the bed. Leaning his chin on his folded arms, he said, “You should know Kenneth better than that by now. He wants all the ladies for his own. I have often thought it was a great misfortune he was not born a caliph with a harem to answer his every need. Then he could have you and his pretty blonde and an ebony-haired lass as well.”

“Corey!”

“Are you shocked?”

“Only that you think I would consider living such a life.”

“But you are, aren't you?” His expression became sober. “You are walking into that house tonight like a lamb being led to slaughter.”

“Do not be so melodramatic! I am going to a dance with Marian and her husband.”

“Not Lorenzo?”

“No.”

He sat up. “Odd, for I thought he would be accompanying you. Has Marian persuaded him to step aside so you might gain yourself a husband with plump pockets?”

“You don't understand!”

“No, I don't.”

Ellen wondered if the emptiness within her was the result of her heart shattering. She had dared to believe that, of everyone around her, Corey would understand the truth she could not speak. She knew she should say something to him. Something that would reveal what he needed to know of her ache to be within his embrace as he held her to his heart.

“Ellen?” Marian's voice was distorted as it came down the hall.

“I must go,” she whispered, not wanting to pull her gaze from his.

“Be careful, Edie.” Standing, he closed the distance between them. “Tonight could change your life forever.”

“As your life was changed the night of the fireworks?”

“Mayhap more than that.” He held up the French shawl she had left over the chair. Draping it cautiously over her shoulders, so she was touched by nothing but a breath of chill, he said, “Be more careful than you have ever been.”

“Do you know—?”

His smile was ironic. “Even ghosts are not privy to the future, Edie.” He went to his favorite chair by the hearth and sat. “I shall wait here as patiently as I can to hear how your evening passed.”

“Ellen! We shall be too late for the first dance!” Marian's impatience filled her voice.

Looking back at Corey, Ellen said, “I shall be fine.”

“I pray so,” he answered in such a solemn tone a shiver sliced through her. “If you need me …”

“Ellen!”

She nodded and rushed out of the room before she could tell him how much she truly needed him as a part of her life forever.

Ellen whirled to the country dance. Her head was light, for she searched the room as she was spun about by her partners. The grand ballroom of the Pratts' house was alight with candles and lamps, as if the family feared what the darkness might bring. Light glittered on the wood floor and off the gilt on the walls.

Once again, Corey was proving to be as good as his word. She had thought he might appear at the Pratts' house to keep an eye on the assembly, but she had seen no sign of him.

The dance came to an end, and she smiled at her partner. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Kenneth's arrival.

“The next dance is mine,” he announced loudly enough so no one could miss his words. “A very special dance with a very special lady.”

Ellen closed her eyes as she heard the first strains of a waltz. A waltz! Now she would have to endure Kenneth's prattling until the music came to an end. When he held out his hands, she gingerly put hers in his. He tried to draw her closer, but she kept a respectable distance between them.

“Relax,” he said beneath the music as he tried to pull her closer. “You should be melting into my arms now.”

“Should I?” The man was unbelievable.

“That would show people how much you adore me, so that our marriage will be touted everywhere in the shire.”

“Our marriage?” She smiled so coldly he loosened his grip on her. “Mr. Pratt—”

“Kenneth, my dear.”

“
Mr. Pratt
, a woman likes to be asked if she wishes to wed before the rest of her life is planned out for her.”

He shrugged. “I saw no reason to ask when I assumed you would say yes. After all, I have been told that you have been waiting for a husband for three years. Now you have the chance to have me as your husband.”

“Am I supposed to say you were worth waiting for?”

“There is no need, when we both know the truth.”

“Which is?” She knew she should put an end to this idiocy, but she was curious how far his vanity would take this conversation.

“That you are a lucky woman.”

Ellen fought back her laugh. Did he think she was so want-witted that she would swallow his tale whole? He needed a wife, but save for helping Corey, she did not need a husband. Certainly she did not need Kenneth Pratt. Not even for Corey could she marry this dolt.

“You have no idea how lucky,” she answered. “I am fortunate enough to have savvy.”

Puzzlement creased his brow, but she did not bother to enlighten him that the word simply meant common sense. She suspected it would be a worthless effort. The man was as dense as the plaster friezes overhead.

Ellen did not even linger to offer an excuse when the dance ended. She simply thanked him and walked away. When he called after her, she did not turn. Her apprehension that he might follow eased when she heard someone speak to him. She looked back to see him waylaid by a dark-haired gentleman.

With a smile, she took her chance to escape. She rushed through the doors of the ballroom and along the corridor toward the back of the house. She paused only long enough to collect her shawl. Slipping into the first open door she found, she crossed the dusky room and threw open the French doors. A small balcony welcomed her into the solitude of the night. Faint music drifted from the ballroom, but she had found a haven.

She drew off her kid gloves as she walked to the edge of the balcony and leaned on the low, stone wall. Her problem was not solved, but there must be another choice. To spend the rest of her life leg-shackled to Kenneth Pratt was a future she did not want to contemplate. Instead she wished to dream of a life with Corey and to forget it was impossible.

“Alone, Edie?”

She whirled, smiling. Corey! Jings, but she was glad to see him. She wanted … She faltered as he perched on the thick stone railing of the balcony. Once she had feared he could read her mind. Thank goodness he could not tonight, for he would know how much she had come to love him.

“Not any longer,” she answered, trying to keep her tone light. “I thought you were going to wait at the Hall for me.”

“Unless you called me.”

“I did not …” When he raised his brows, she smiled. “Mayhap I did without realizing it.”

He smiled. “I did not expect to find you hiding from the rest of the gathering.”

“I wanted to have some time to think.”

“About your upcoming betrothal, or can I hope you finally have come to your senses and put an end to Marian's matchmaking by giving Pratt his
congé
?”

“Graciousness only goes so far.”

“He would try a saint.”

“And I am no saint.”

He moved closer to her, his hand resting on the wall so near to hers that she could sense the icy caress sliding across her skin. “You would make a lovely angel, Edie.”

“Something you should know better than I.”

“I have to own I have not had a chance to meet an angel yet.” His smile vanished as he whispered, “Save for you.”

When Edie looked away, obviously overmastered by his compliment, Corey clenched his hand on the railing. Deuce take it! With the moonlight glowing on her hair and glittering off the jewels she wore at her throat and wrist, she was surrounded by a warm light. Yet even the warmth of her gentle heart could not melt the cold of the grave that encased him. So close and so impossibly far apart, they stood on either side of a fathomless abyss they could not bridge.

He plucked a blossom off the tree stretching its branches over the balcony. The flower stiffened at his touch, as dead as he was. Holding it out, he said nothing while Edie's slender fingers rose to take it.

“Thank you,” she whispered so softly the night breeze nearly drowned out the sound. She raised her eyes to him. “Corey, will you tell me the truth?”

“About what?”

“About what is wrong with you.”

Blast it, but she possessed an insight that traversed the chasm between them. He started to tell her of the strange malaise that had begun the day of the fair, then closed his mouth. He was unsure if he could explain what he felt: the weight grinding into him and the thinning of his very soul until it seemed as if he would be compressed into nothingness. He had no word to describe the sensation or his failure to discover a way to halt it.

If she became distressed on his behalf, she would turn her attention from her search for a spouse. Then he would linger here, forced to watch as other men held her as he could not while they delighted in the gentle brush of her fingers which he had savored so briefly.

He smiled and drew his boot up on the railing. When he swayed, she reached out to him. He laughed and motioned her away. “Have no fear, Edie. Even if I fell, what is the worst that could happen?”

“I don't know.” Ellen locked her fingers together in front of her before she foolishly threw her arms around him. “Do you?”

“No, but I doubt if it would be anything more horrible than having to pick myself out of the bushes.”

“You are not answering me again. You seem …” She searched for the right word. “Subdued. If you were …”

“Alive?”

“Yes, alive,” she said with a short laugh. “If you were alive, I would suspect you were becoming ill.”

“Then 'tis fortunate I have already toppled off my heels, isn't it?”

“Corey, why are you evading answering me?”

“Because tonight should not be a night for being down-pinned. It should be a glorious night for you.”

“With Mr. Pratt's company?” She rolled her eyes.

“You don't call him Kenneth as he wished?”

“No, and if I have an ounce of luck left, he will not call on me any longer.” Ellen turned and smiled as a new melody wafted through the night.

“What is it?”

“That song. I love to dance to it.”

He swept out his hand. “Then dance, Edie.”

“A waltz is not meant for dancing alone.”

“No, on that I would agree completely with you.” He held out his hands.

She stared at him. “Corey, we can't. If—”

“Give me your shawl.”

“Why?”

He smiled gently. “The music will not last forever.”

She drew off the triangle of lace and silk and dropped it into his hands. Twirling it into a silken rope, he swept it around her waist. Gently, he herded her closer.

“Hold here,” he whispered as he gazed down at her.

She put her hand on the silk, only inches from his as if she was settling her fingers on his palm to dance. Her other hand gathered up her skirt as he spun her to the tempo of the music. The silk against her back was chilled, but heat glowed in his gaze as they moved as one. She stared up at him, letting him steer her about the narrow space of the balcony and then into the shadowed room.

The music dimmed, but it mattered little. She heard it play as sweetly as if the orchestra were in the room. All of the magic metamorphosed into this moment when the impossible became real.

With a laugh, he released one end of the silk, and she twirled beneath his arm. She caught the shawl and matched his steps as he led her back out onto the balcony again. As the last note from the violins faded, they slowed.

The shawl fell from his fingers back onto her hand. When he bowed deeply to her, she could not mistake the longing in his gaze. The wind pulled at the blossoms in her hair as he drew a single curl toward him. He brushed his lips against it.

“Sweet Edie,” he whispered, “you make me believe anything is possible, even falling in love.”

“Do not say that.”

“Why not?” He smiled, but the mockery was missing from it. “Let me enjoy the advantage of caring little what others think of me.” His voice lowered to a murmur as powerful as the wind off the sea. “Save for you, Edie, I care nothing of what anyone thinks. I …” He winced and turned away, sitting on the balcony wall again.

“Corey?”

“'Tis nothing.”

Ellen knew that was a lie. She gave him another appraisal. Even here, where shadows reigned, the light surrounding him was growing dimmer. She could ignore it no longer. Just as she could no longer ignore Marian's advice.