He lifted his wine for another swallow, took his time completing the action, and avoided her gaze by dropping his to their hands again. Audrey’s gaze followed, but the moment she saw the gold band on her left finger, she snapped her attention back to his face.
“I know you grew up here,” he said softly. “I know where you went to school and when you graduated. I know you post with some regularity to message boards about hiking in Appalachia, Jane Austen books and Billie Holiday recordings.” His gaze settled resolutely on hers as he added, “And I read the articles in the
Courier
about your husband.”
Sean again
, Audrey thought. Only this time it was Nathaniel bringing him into the evening. Was it some kind of message from the great beyond? she wondered. Was this Sean’s way of reminding her that she was a married woman? Or had it been—at least until now—Audrey’s way of keeping Nathaniel at a distance?
“I’m sorry, Audrey,” he said. “I know you told me what happened, but I didn’t realize just how—”
“If you have all that information about me,” she deliberately interrupted him, “it’s only fair that I have the same information about you.”
He hesitated for a moment, but whether it was because of the sudden change of subject, or because he didn’t want Audrey to know as much about him as he did about her, she couldn’t have said. Finally, though, he told her, “I grew up in J-town. I graduated from Manual, class of eighty-five, then went to U of L for undergrad and law school. As for message boards, the time I spend online is used for work, not socializing.”
That was doubtless because he did his socializing in person, Audrey couldn’t help thinking. He probably did lots of that. Especially on Friday nights, with dinners that
were
dates. And those dinners were probably with women who considered them way more than dinner. He probably considered them way more than dinner, too. After dinner, they probably both, um, socialized. A lot.
Pushing the thought away, she asked, “Ever been married?” Since he’d deftly avoided that part of his story. And she told herself the only reason she asked was because he had information about her own marital status.
“Never,” he answered immediately.
“Ever come close?”
“Never.”
Yeah, there was nothing like a little marriage to curb all that Friday night, in-person socializing.
“You also know where I live,” she pointed out, again telling herself the only reason she wanted to know about his home was because he had knowledge of hers.
He dipped his head forward in acknowledgement. “I live in Cherokee Triangle.”
That surprised her. For some reason, he seemed much more the bright, shiny new development type. She would have put him in an east-end condo or one of the new downtown developments.
“Fourteen Hundred Willow,” he clarified.
Ah. That explained it. Fourteen Hundred Willow might have been designed to blend in with the stately old houses surrounding it, but it was still comparatively bright, shiny, and new. It was also opulent, exorbitant, and magnificent, impossible to not notice or admire. Kind of like Nathaniel.
“Anything else you want to know?” he asked.
Nothing she couldn’t Google later, she thought. She shook her head.
“Then we need to figure out what we’re going to do about my . . .” He sighed with something akin to resolve. “My soul.”
“So we do. I suppose we should start by comparing what I know about your great-great-whatever grandfather and what you know about Edward Dryden. See if there’s anything about him that could make this whole project null and void.”
“I still can’t believe Edward has anything to do with this,” Nathaniel said. “The man is controversial, certainly. But he’s not dangerous.”
“Controversial how?”
“Well, he’s just one of those people you either love or hate. He doesn’t inspire a tepid response. But those are the sort of people who make things happen.” He met Audrey’s gaze levelly again. “I’m telling you, he’s
not
a criminal.”
Says you,
Audrey thought. Even if Nathaniel had done a thorough background check, there were some things that didn’t show up in those. And there were other things that could be falsified. Even more that could be spun to look like things they weren’t. Maybe it was because she’d been married to a cop, but Audrey had learned to trust her gut instincts. Silas had told her there was something shady about Edward Dryden, and Silas had been right about everything else. Audrey didn’t trust the guy with whom Nathaniel had gone into business. Now she just had to figure out how to get Nathaniel to open up to the possibility that his new BFF might be an AKA.
“Then let’s compare,” he said. “And we’ll decide how to proceed from there.”
Nine
HIS HOUSE HAD BECOME A BROTHEL.
Silas Summerfield stood at the top of the stairs gazing down into his living room, marveling at the incessant chatter and laughter and bustle of the women below. There were more than a dozen down there, picking up hats and trying them on, vying for space in front of the half dozen mirrors. With their scanty dress—scanty by the standards of his own day, at least—there was nothing else to liken the scene to except one wherein ladies of easy virtue reigned.
Save one woman who had cleaned his house and one who had laundered for him, Silas had never allowed females into his home when he was alive. Not once. Certainly he had enjoyed the society of women from time to time, provided that society met the physical needs that every man experienced. He had kept women in a number of cities along his routes on the Mississippi and Ohio rivers, including a lovely one in Louisville named Daphne. But they were the sort of women who made their way in the world by being kept. He hadn’t deluded himself that each of them hadn’t had as many benefactors as he’d had beneficiaries of his own largesse. But that was what had made those relationships so ideal. There had been no troublesome feelings involved, no meaningless expectations, no silly exchanges involving anything other than commerce. Commerce was something Silas understood. Love, affection, devotion . . . those were as alien to him as the stars above.
His gaze lit on Cecilia then, who was aiding a rather indecisive woman on the selection of a hat. Silas shook his head. The woman was a homely creature who would be flattered only by headwear from which fell a heavy veil, but Cecilia smiled at and cooed over her as if she were the most handsome woman on the planet. Standing beside her, Cecilia was absolutely breathtaking. She’d tamed her short, unruly hair and tied around it a bit of lacy, pale yellow ribbon he’d seen her pluck from the assortment Audrey Magill provided for her clients. The dress she wore was of the same buttery color, a simple cut that only enhanced her natural beauty, something Silas would have thought it impossible to improve upon. Her smile today was dazzling, absent any of the sadness and shadow that had plagued it before.
She was genuinely happy in this society of women. What could the bastard have done to her that made her so fear men?
Because it was clear there was some bastard in her past who had mistreated her. It didn’t require the supernatural ability to see inside a person’s soul to deduce that. It required only to look into Cecilia’s eyes to see the darkness that haunted her.
He smiled at his own choice of words. There was more than one way for a person to be haunted. Audrey was haunted by a ghost, the ghost of someone else’s past, someone else’s deeds, where as Cecilia . . .
Well. Now that he thought about it, he supposed Cecilia was haunted by the same sort of ghost. Now if only he could determine the identity of the cad, perhaps he could erase at least some of the shadows from her eyes.
She glanced up suddenly, looking directly at the place where he stood, as if she could see him. But he knew she could not. He hadn’t even materialized to the point where Audrey could see him, lest one of the other women present have some kind of psychic inclinations. There was no chance Cecilia could actually see him standing there.
But she smiled at him, in a way that told him she knew he was there, and something unfurled inside him he hadn’t even been aware was pulled tight until now. Perhaps she couldn’t see him, but she could sense his presence, and pinpoint it to the very place where he stood. That had to be significant somehow, didn’t it? And why did he want so desperately for it to be? The last thing he needed or wanted was the affection of a woman. Particularly a woman who was damaged. And most particularly a woman who was tied to this mortal world as surely as he had been pulled from it. Once Audrey had helped Nathaniel recapture his soul, Silas’s work here would be finished. It made sense to conclude that, once it was, he would be pulled back to that netherworld he’d left behind and return to whatever it was he’d been doing there.
Strange that he couldn’t remember much of his afterlife except that it had been pleasant.
That, too, must be significant
, he thought. But, again, he couldn’t say just how.
He returned his attention to the activity in the room below—or, more accurately, he returned his attention to Cecilia in the room below—watching for another half hour, until the last of the women trickled out, and Audrey locked the door. She leaned back against it and spread her arms wide, as if barring it from a Viking attack. Then she looked at Cecilia, and the two women laughed the sort of laughter that comes with great relief. And then they did a curious thing, each lifting a hand into the air to smack their palms together. Audrey said something about having a surprise and headed into the kitchen, and Cecilia began to tidy up. Within moments, Audrey returned with a bottle of champagne and two slender glasses. Silas smiled at the crisp
pop
of the cork as she tugged it free of the bottle and began to pour.
“Silas, you should be here for this, too,” she said as she filled Cecilia’s glass to the brim.
“I, madam?” he asked as he descended the stairs. By the time he stepped into the living room, he had materialized the rest of the way so that Audrey could see him. He only wished he knew what to do to provide the same service for Cecilia. Because as much as he liked Audrey Magill, it was her companion who truly captivated him. “Why should I be a part of your celebration?” he continued. “Although you do certainly seem to have a successful shop on your hands, I was in no way instrumental in the accomplishment.”
“Maybe not in the actual work,” she said, “but you’ve put some good vibes into this house.” She lifted her glass to toast him. “Plus, you’re a nice guy. That, in itself, is cause to celebrate.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Cecilia said, lifting the glass to her lips for a taste and closing her eyes to savor it as she did.
Ah. Just the entrée into conversation Silas had been looking for. “Do you not find most men nice, Cecilia?”
She had been swallowing when he asked the question and, by the time he finished asking it, was choking on her champagne. Audrey immediately went to her aid, patting her gently on the back until her coughing subsided.
“Was it something I said?” Silas asked innocently.
“Ah, no,” Cecilia told him. “Not at all. I’m just not used to good champagne, that’s all. I usually go for the cheap stuff.”
“I see,” Silas said. “I thought perhaps it was your way of indicating that no, you do not find most men nice.”
“Audrey’s the one who said that about nice men,” Cecilia said. “She’s the one who implied they’re few and far between. Not me.”
“Then you disagree with her,” Silas said, deliberately clouding the issue. “You think the majority of men are quite nice.”
She lifted her glass to her lips again, and for a moment, Silas didn’t think she was going to reply. Then, just before taking another, much smaller, sip, she said softly, “Well, I wouldn’t say that, either. Not if I were being honest.”
Silas started to say something else, but Audrey cut him off. “Well, I must say, today exceeded my expectations. As much as I hoped we’d win more business with Thunder going on, I was worried, too, that we’d have to compete with it. But I think it was the opposite. While the husbands and sons were watching the Blue Angels and simulated dog fights, the mothers and daughters went shopping.” Before Silas had a chance to ask for clarification, she told him, “Thunder over Louisville is the official start of the Derby Festival. The most humongous fireworks display you’ve ever seen. It’s preceded by a day of revelry and mayhem, most of which is dictated by noise. They bring in all kinds of military aircraft, and—”
“Aircraft,” Silas said. “Now that is something I should like to see.”
“Weren’t planes around when you were alive?” Cecilia asked.
“They were,” he said. “But not in any great number. I’ve never seen an aircraft up close.”
“It’s too bad you’re bound to the painting,” Audrey said. “Otherwise, we could take you down to the Belvedere and show you around.”
“It’ll be packed, though,” Cecilia said. “It usually brings in more than a half million people.”
Silas’s mouth dropped open at that. “Half a million people? In one place?”
Audrey and Cecilia exchanged smiles. “Sure,” the latter said. “Thunder brings them in from miles around. It’s pretty major.”
“Good God. Louisville did attract a million people once, for the Southern Exposition in the eighteen-nineties, but they came over the course of four years, not in a single day.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What’s the population of the city these days?”
“Well, let’s see,” Audrey said. “The city and county merged a while back, and if you want to bring in southern Indiana, and parts of Oldham and Bullitt Counties, since a lot of people commute from there, you’re probably looking at about a million in the metropolitan area.”
His mouth dropped open at that. “There couldn’t have been more than two hundred thousand people who called the city home in my time. And that was plenty.”
“Well, the city’s spread out a lot since your time, too,” Audrey said. “Old Louisville used to be considered a suburb, now it’s considered part of downtown.”