A Phantom Affair (24 page)

She must let Corey fulfill his pledge. She must find a
fiancé
. Not Kenneth Pratt, but someone else. Someone who would not appall her, someone who needed her, too.

Even as the answer burst through her mind, she fought back a sob. Her heart ached to belong to one man. As she met Corey's gaze, she wished she could run her fingers along his strong jaw. Would it be rough with whiskers or smoothly shaven? His lips would hold sweet, dangerous secrets that she would learn when her mouth met his. Everything she wanted could be found in his arms, but it would never be.

Gathering up her gloves, Ellen forced a smile. “A short night would be best for all of us, I believe.”

“That shall convince Kenneth of his failure to win your affections.”

“Painlessly, I pray,” she said, continuing the façade that nothing was wrong. This part of the game they had fallen into hurt her more than anything else. Like him, she cared only what one person thought. She wanted to be honest with him as she told him of the love aching in her heart.

He chuckled. “Don't fret about Pratt, Edie. He shall find a woman—eventually—who hungers for a share of his blunt enough to tolerate buckling herself to him. Are you returning directly to Herrold Hall?”

She hated the bangers falling from her lips. “Yes, Corey, I am going home. Will you be giving me a look-in this evening before I go to sleep?”

“Have I ever missed any chance to hear how your suitors have lathered you with court-promises?” He jumped down from the stone railing. “I shall wait for you in your rooms.”

“Good.” As she turned to the door, he whispered her name. “Yes?”

He took a step toward her. She gazed up at him. Even though his ebony hair was lost against the night sky and the eye patch sliced shadows into his face, she could see his longing. The same longing that was consuming her in its merciless maw. He drew a blossom from her hair. She did not shiver as the coolness stroked her.

With the flower that was taut with the cold, he brushed her cheek in a sinuous caress. She closed her eyes to savor each sensation as the flower slipped along her chin and down her neck. Her breath caught as the petals grazed the deep
décolletage
of her gown, sending ripples of pleasure across her breasts.

He murmured her name again, and she opened her eyes. Holding the flower to his lips, he offered it, with a bow, to her. A sob of frustration wrenched her from the splendor as she took the rose.

“Later, Edie,” he whispered. “I shall be waiting.”

Before she could answer, before she could give voice to her desire to be in his arms, he had vanished, leaving her alone to face the only choice she could make to protect the man she loved from an eternity of grief.

The foyer was dark when Ellen was shown into Wolfe Abbey. She thanked the footman who took her shawl and asked, “Is Lord Wulfric at home?”

“I shall check, Miss Dunbar.” He padded away silently, leaving her in the shadows.

She glanced around, trying to imagine this grand house when it was filled with Corey's family instead of as gloomy as a mausoleum. The echo of childish laughter must have rung down the stairs while Corey and his sister played with their cousin on the wide risers. Had Corey's father's voice rumbled after them? And his mother … He never mentioned her, so Ellen guessed Lady Wulfric had died while he was young. Scanning the shadows, she wondered if Lady Wulfric still walked the stone hallways.

“Miss Dunbar?”

Ellen turned, expecting to see the footman. “Armstead!” she gasped.

Corey's valet walked across the stone floor to her. He smiled. “You look well, Miss Dunbar.”

“As you do.” She hesitated, then, knowing Corey would want to know, she said, “I did not expect to see you back at the Abbey so soon.”

“I found there was something missing in my life when I was far from here.” He appeared embarrassed as he added, “Something called me back here. Something reminded me that my home is here.”

“Even without Corey?”

He nodded. “It will not be the same, but my life is here.”

A throat cleared, and Ellen looked to her left to see the footman waiting impatiently. She gave Armstead a smile, then climbed the stairs after the footman. He led her to Lorenzo's book room.

Lorenzo was seated at his desk. He leaped to his feet and motioned for her to join him in the cluttered room.

“Forgive me,” he said, drawing his open red waistcoat closed. For the first time, she saw him without a cravat and coat. “I had no idea you might be calling this evening, Ellen. I thought you were going to the assembly at Pratt's.”

“I should have sent word, but …”

“Something cool to drink?” he asked when the silence thickened between them.

“Yes.”

“Lemonade?”

“Yes.” She wanted to add something more, but she was as tongue-tangled as the first few times they had spoken.

While he went to give the orders to his servants, Ellen slid her shawl from her shoulders and sat on the window bench. She stared out the window. Night sounds slipped through the glass, and she could see bats flitting about, chasing insects. The distant hoot of an owl warned of the end of a field mouse's life.

Tears filled her eyes. A chapter of her own life would soon be closing if all went as Marian suggested. How could doing what was right feel so wrong?

Mayhap because she was unsure if this was right. No, she was certain this was right. Furthermore, it was the sole alternative remaining if she wished to garner even a smidgen of happiness for the rest of her days.

Lorenzo was pulling on a navy velvet coat as he returned. “More appropriate, don't you think?” he asked with a smile.

“You did not need to change when I have intruded without so much as an invitation.”

He pointed at the window seat. “May I?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. Mayhap he would hear her disquiet and ask her to explain. How could she tell him that she was willing to marry him solely because she wished to give his cousin a chance to escape from her life, although not from her heart? How could she hurt Lorenzo, too? He was a friend, and she enjoyed speaking to him of his poetry, but she could never love him as she loved his cousin. This was such a complicated bumble-bath.

“Ellen, I would hope you feel welcome enough at Wolfe Abbey to run tame through it anytime.”

“You have always been a good host.”

He clasped her hands in his, and she blinked back tears.
This
simple warmth was what she longed to share with Corey. His hands would be much firmer than Lorenzo's long fingers. Easily his hands would swallow hers, surrounding her in his flesh.

Lorenzo said, drawing her eyes back to the ones in his thin face, “Tell me why you are here tonight when you should be enjoying the music at Pratt's.”

“I went there.”

“But you left so early.”

She smiled. “You are such a good host, Lorenzo, but not all your neighbors are as solicitous of their guests' feelings as you are.”

He chuckled. “Was Kenneth that tiresome this evening?”

“He was persistent.”

“That you knew before you went there.”

“What I did not know was that arrogant block assumed I would be ecstatic at the chance to be his wife.”

“So you told him …”

“I would not marry him.” She drew her hands away when they trembled in his. It was going to be more difficult to speak these goose's gazettes than she had feared. Lorenzo deserved better. Mayhap she should simply tell him the truth and let him decide if he wished to help Corey.

A shiver cut across her shoulders as she recalled Fenton's words. The truth could consign her to an asylum. There would be no escape for her or for Corey until her death. Mayhap not even then.

“You were right to tell him that,” Lorenzo said. “He should not have presumed that you would marry him.”

“I hope you don't think
me
overly presumptuous to call here unbidden tonight.”

Again he took her hands. He folded them together between his and raised them toward his lips. She stiffened as she wondered what his kiss would be like. Instead of pressing them to his lips, he looked over them and said, “I cannot help but believe fate drew us together, Ellen.”

“You may be right.”

“I know I am not the wisest of men nor the most handsome, but my affection for you is genuine.” He knelt beside her. “I ask you to consider sharing my name and my life.”

Tears filled her eyes. In her heart, she could hear the echo of a deeper voice.
Corey
should have been speaking those words to her in breathless expectation.
Corey
should have been touching her with eager anticipation.
Corey
should have been gazing at her with unfettered desire.
Corey
should …

She swallowed the ball of tears searing her throat. This was all wrong, but what else could she do? Corey needed to be freed from his purgatory. If she loved him, there was only one answer she could give Lorenzo.

“Yes,” she whispered, “I will marry you.”

Fifteen

The night wind played off the sea, tossing the waves high and scouring the land with salt. It seized the carriage door and pulled it out of Ellen's hands as she stepped down on the driveway before Herrold Hall.

“Be ye all right, miss?”

She flinched at the voice, then smiled. For a moment, the coachee had sounded like Fenton. She was glad she had not encountered the strange man at Wolfe Abbey, but a confrontation waited her within the Hall that she was not ready to face.

How could she tell Corey that he had succeeded in doing as he vowed? If not for him, she would not be marrying his cousin. Guilt stabbed at her. Lorenzo sincerely loved her. He deserved better than a woman who was marrying him simply because the man she loved was dead. As he had given her a chaste kiss on the cheek when she left Wolfe Abbey, she had to acknowledge the cost of granting Corey his freedom from the limbo where he was now.

Ellen hurried into the house, for a soft rain was beginning to fall. As she shrugged off her shawl and was walking toward the stairs, she heard her name called in a furious voice. She took a deep breath, then turned to see Marian striding toward her.

“Where have you been?” demanded Marian. “We have been half-mad with anxiety for you.”

“I left a message at the Pratts' that I was leaving.”

“But where have you been?”

Ellen hesitated, glancing around the oak walls of the foyer. “I cannot tell you now.”

“Why?”

“Corey should hear first.”

Marian pressed her hands over her mouth but squeaked, “You have become betrothed!”

“Marian, please. Corey should know first. He—”

Grabbing Ellen's hands, Marian laughed. “How wondrous! Best of all, you shall be only a short drive from me when you wed Kenneth.”

“Not Mr. Pratt.”

“Not—?” She gulped. “Then who, Ellen?”

“I should tell—”

“Who?”

She closed her eyes and sighed. To own the truth, she did not want to speak the words that would knell the death of her dreams of giving her heart to Corey. Looking at Marian, she said, “Let us talk in your rooms where we can have privacy.”

“Not from—”

Ellen gasped, “Marian, don't even say it!”

Marian stared at her a long moment, then nodded. In silence, they went up the stairs. Ellen waited for her friend to say something, but Marian was oddly reticent until they entered her private chambers.

“Who?” asked Marian as soon as she had closed the door.

“Lorenzo Wolfe asked me to be his wife, and I said yes.”

“You agreed to marry
him?
”

Ellen frowned. “What is wrong with Lorenzo? He is a nice man. He is—”

“Boring and only the custodian of Wolfe Abbey. He has that grand title, but little else.” Marian covered her face with her hands and cried, “How could you agree to marry
him
?”

Down the hall, Corey looked up from the book he was reading as he heard Marian's screech. He smiled and shook his head. Had another hapless mouse entered her bedchamber or mayhap one of Reggie's pups? He could imagine nothing else that would set her to squealing at this hour.

He was about to return to his book, as he waited with what scanty patience he possessed for Edie to return, when he heard her soft voice answering Marian. Putting the book on the table by his chair, he rose. He frowned as he heard the sharp sound of Marian's answer, then Edie trying to soothe her.

Curiosity taunted him. He was about to go to Marian's room to determine what was happening when he heard a door slam. Angry footfalls came toward Edie's room, then stamped past.

The door opened slowly, and he said nothing as Edie entered. She dropped her shawl on the chair closest to the door. When her abigail Sullivan came to help her get ready for bed, Corey hesitated. He wanted to know what had caused Marian's cross words, but he had told Edie he would respect her privacy.

Which proved he was the greatest widgeon of them all.

As he wandered through the gardens later—he was not sure how much later, because time had become unimportant to him—Corey heard her call to him. He willed himself to go to her rooms. In amazement, he realized he remained in the gardens. He tried again, but again he stayed where he was.

Something was wrong … very, very wrong. As he saw the lights go out in her room, he sat on a hummock under a tree. He raised his hand to prop his chin on his fist. Astonishment filled him anew. The light that had surrounded him was only a flicker. Could it be like a candle he was burning out? That he had but a short time left before he went on to whatever?

Something
was
wrong, so terribly wrong he could not guess what it might be.

The word of a possible match between Lord Wulfric and Miss Ellen Dunbar raced through the shire as if on a winged mount. Although neither Lorenzo nor Ellen had caught sight of any of his servants listening at latches, someone must have overheard the conversation in the book room. By the time the sun had reached its apex the next day, callers were appearing at the door of Herrold Hall, eager to satisfy their curiosity about the rumors of a most unexpected match.