A Phantom Affair (15 page)

When she heard an impolite snort, Ellen did not have to look over her shoulder. She had been sure Corey would appear as soon as word spread through the Hall that Kenneth Pratt was calling. In fact, she was surprised it had taken Corey so long to arrive. He had vowed not to intrude on Lorenzo's call, but Mr. Pratt's arrival made it a completely different situation.

Mr. Pratt seized a finely made chair and pulled it within inches of where she sat on the settee. “My mother was not exaggerating when she said you were the prettiest thing to enter this shire in a long time.”

“Thank you. You are kind.”

“True, but 'tis easy to be kind when I speak the truth.”

Corey sat on the arm of the settee, and Ellen pulled back before she could touch him. Seeing Mr. Pratt's eyes narrow at what he saw as an insult, she wished just one other person could see Corey. Then she would not always be caught—sometimes quite literally—in the middle.

“So are you well?” the blond man asked.

“I am better.”

“Then you have no excuse not to allow me to escort you to the dance we are hosting Saturday next.”

Marian recovered enough to regain her voice. “A dance? What a wonderful surprise!”

“I spoke to you of it,” Mr. Pratt said, “only last week.”

She waved aside his words as irrelevant. “Then you said only it was a possibility, and now you are asking Ellen to go with you. Isn't that wonderful, Ellen?”

Corey leaned forward as he interjected, “Marian, you always have had a peculiar sense of wonderful.”

Ellen began, “I—”

“You need not express your gratitude.” Mr. Pratt started to reach for Ellen's hand, but paused, astonishment on his face. Shaking his fingers, he frowned.

No humor lightened Corey's face as he growled, “Pratt, you need not express a word for us to know you are a pompous calf-head. If you will say the word, Edie, I shall give the boor such an embrace that he shall be shivering for days.”

“Cold in here, isn't it?” Mr. Pratt asked.

“I hadn't noticed,” Ellen said. “I—”

“Blasted draughty house.” He turned to Marian. “I have told your husband on more than one occasion he should find a place farther from the sea. We live inland where these cold winds are blocked by the hills.” Not giving Marian a chance to answer, he looked at Ellen. “Much wisdom in that, don't you agree?”

“I—”

Ellen gritted her teeth when Mr. Pratt interrupted for a third time. The man was insufferable!

“Of course, I suppose you are accustomed to such draughts. I understand you were raised in that intolerably uncivilized land to the north.” He started to move closer to her, then seemed to think better of it. Only Ellen saw Corey's hand waft the air again in front of Mr. Pratt's classically aristocratic nose. “Although I must own, if all the ladies of Scotland are as lovely and demure as you, Miss Dunbar—May I call you Ellen?”

“I would as lief you did not,” she replied, amazed at this man. She had never met anyone who was so arrogantly rude. To think she would agree to him using such an intimacy as her given name on their blessedly short acquaintance was absurd.

As if she had not spoken, he continued, “Ellen, you are a tribute to your birthland. If only England had more gracious ladies like you, what a wondrous place this would be. Mayhap we should investigate the idea of sending some of our young beaux to that country and seeking out others like you. Not that any of them could compare to you. How distressed our Englishwomen must have been to meet you and think there were others in that distant land!”

“Scotland is part of Great Britain,” Lorenzo said with quiet dignity, “and is not a long ride from where we are sitting right now.”

“Wolfe, are you still here?” He started to laugh, then swallowed the sound with a gulp when Ellen frowned. “I mean, you are so quiet one would think you were nothing more than a statue.”

“How,” Corey asked in that tone which warned her he was contemplating mischief, “can a soul get a word in when you, Pratt, are airing your vocabulary endlessly?”

Ellen was tempted to agree, but Lorenzo spoke before she could.

“Kenneth, your opinions are always a source of amazement to me.”

Mr. Pratt preened as if he were surrounded by a score of admirers. “I had no idea you found them so interesting.”

“Not so much interesting as amazing.”

Ellen stared at Lorenzo in astonishment. Was he insulting Mr. Pratt or lauding him? No hint of the truth was visible on his face.

Corey's laugh drew her eyes to him. “Shame on you, Lorenzo!” he said with another chuckle. “You should know better than to have a battle of wits with a witless man. The victory is too easily won.”

She fought not to laugh.

When Mr. Pratt rose, she was able to control her amusement behind a clichéd farewell. She lost her yearning to laugh when he reminded her that she would be his guest at the assembly at the Pratt's country house.

A silent sigh was her only response as Marian escorted him down the stairs, his boot heels battering each riser. Lorenzo was correct. Mr. Pratt was amazing in his arrogance.

“I should take my leave as well,” Lorenzo said, setting himself on his feet. “I do not wish to overstrain you.”

“I have enjoyed your call. I know Marian did as well. She has been saying she wished you would call more often.”

He smiled. “Do you think she would be satisfied if I invited you and Marian and Reggie to an outing at Wolfe Abbey on the morrow?” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Do you think you might wish to join us?”

Corey shook his head as he went to stand next to his cousin. “I know tradition states only a week of mourning for cousins, Lorenzo, but I thought you might wear ashes a while longer than this.”

“I would be delighted,” Ellen replied.

“
Et tú
, Edie?”

Unable to hear Corey's sarcasm, Lorenzo nodded. “Then I shall look forward to tomorrow.” He bowed over her hand before going out into the hall.

Marian rushed into the room. She kissed Ellen on the cheek. “Two conquests with a single smile. My dear, I knew someone would win your heart here.”

“I think you may be right.” Ellen looked around the room, but save for her and Marian, it was empty. She was astonished Corey had left without trying to have the final word. She wondered what new prank he was devising to spring on them next in his joint effort with Marian to find her a husband. She was sure it would be something beyond anything she could imagine.

Nine

A nicer day could not have been wished for, and Ellen left her dreary spirits at Herrold Hall. Literally, she hoped, for she would enjoy a chance to think without Corey meddling constantly.

She took a deep breath as they paused in front of Wolfe Abbey. The air was flavored with salt. She wished they could ride along the shore, but Marian had insisted on a more traditional journey across the hills to the lake beyond the village.

Marian smiled as she dismounted. “Wait here with the horses. I wish to deliver this basket to the kitchen, so it might be ready for us when we return.”

“We could take the basket with us and eat in the hills.”

“Nonsense. That would be most uncivilized.”

“We ate on the sand earlier in the week.”

“That was a gathering. This is just a ride with a few friends.”

Ellen could not fathom what difference that made, but she had learned better than to start a brangle when Marian had that stubborn gleam in her eyes. She slid off the horse as Marian went to the house. Looping the horses' reins over a tree, she gathered the heavy bulk of her forest green riding skirt and walked along the path toward where she could look down on the pond in the heart of the garden.

Someone leaped out of the shrubs. She pulled back with a frightened cry. When she heard the raspy laugh over her thumping heart, she frowned. “Fenton!”

“Remember ye. Ye be Miss Dunbar.”

“Yes.”

He eyed her up and down. “Don't know why he chose ye.”

“Who?”

“Lord Wulfric.”

“I am afraid I do not understand what you mean.”

“Lord Wulfric. Chose ye, he did.”

“You must be confused.” She forced a smile. The old man was clearly dicked in the nob, so she must be gentle with him. Her last conversation with him had been as puzzling as this one. “I have only met Lorenzo a few—”

“Not him.” Fenton spat on the ground. “
Lord Wulfric
!”

“But Lorenzo Wolfe is—”

“Not yet he ain't. Not while his lordship is still about.” Standing straighter so his nose was but an inch from hers, he demanded, “Ye know it, too, don't ye?”

She backed away. “I think you are confused.”

“Scared ye of old Fenton, they have, but I know what ye know. His lordship still walks the halls of Wolfe Abbey.”

“How—?” She gulped, not wanting to reveal the truth. “Why do you say that?”

“Seen him, I have.”

“You have? When?”

Fenton chuckled, the sound as strident as an unoiled hinge. “Not as many times as ye have seen him, I guess. Likes the pretty ones, he does.”

Ellen turned on her heel and walked away. She had no reply for the old man that was not a lie, and she did not want to resort to dishonesty.

Had Fenton truly seen Corey, or was he just a superstitious old widgeon? She must not allow him to guess how close to the truth his ravings were. Yet, if he had seen Corey, he might speak to others as he had to her. She must warn Corey.

She was tempted to laugh. What could anyone do to a
ghost?

“There you are!” Marian wore a reproving frown as she strode toward Ellen. “We had wondered where you might be.”

Ellen did not ask who “we” were. Marian's tone told her. Lorenzo must have come out of the Abbey with Marian. All in all, this day was going ingloriously. Mayhap she would be wise to return to Herrold Hall and hide in her room beneath her covers. No, that would be futile. Then Corey would appear to taunt her for being a coward.

She was not afraid of Marian's attempts to find her a husband. She simply needed a chance to be alone to gather her thoughts together. If Marian—and Corey—arranged events to unfold as they wished, she knew it would not be soon.

Lorenzo wore a strained smile as Ellen approached. She understood why when a chorus of yaps, yips, and howls ricocheted along the road. Suddenly, past the top stones of the seawall, a pack of brown and white dogs exploded into sight. Lord Herrold was chasing them, his face as red as his riding coat. His open mouth suggested he was shouting, but the sound was swallowed by the dogs' keening.

Ellen gasped when Lorenzo grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her behind the horses before the dogs could swarm over them. Marian bravely stood her ground. The dogs swirled around her in a muddy river, then raced, barking, over and through the fence past the stables. Lord Herrold followed in close pursuit, paying no attention to the pieces of grass sticking out of his hat and the briars clinging to his breeches.

“Is he breeding persistence into his pups?” Lorenzo asked.

“You would have to ask him.” Marian patted her horse on the neck. “I have to own that I do not listen closely when he babbles on and on about his beasts.”

“Where is he going?” Ellen asked.

Marian shrugged. “Who can guess?”

Ellen laughed as Marian motioned for Lorenzo to throw her up into the saddle so she could give chase to her husband and his dogs. When Lorenzo turned to help Ellen, she said, “You have much patience with eccentric people.”

“A skill I needed when I came to Wolfe Abbey to live.” He helped her mount. As she settled in the saddle, he handed her the reins. “If I could learn to deal with the Wolfes, I suspect I can be successful with anyone.”

“You miss your cousin deeply.” She put her hand on his shoulder.

“Both of them. Vanessa, Corey, and I grew up together. Now she is far from here, and he is gone. Only I remain.” He climbed into his saddle with ease. “Odd, but Corey was such a part of the Abbey that, while there is an emptiness, it seems as if a part of him is still about.”

The longing to speak the truth burned on her lips. How it would comfort Lorenzo to know that he was right, but if she uttered the truth, Lorenzo would think she was as deranged as Fenton.

“Lorenzo!” Marian was halfway to the stables. “Do hurry! I fear we shall lose Reginald.”

“Last time, he raced his dogs to a breast-high scent,” Lorenzo said with a laugh, “the good baron got lost in his own greenwood.”

“With all that yelping, how could they be lost?” Ellen asked as they rode to meet up with Marian.

“Oh, the dogs found their way back to the Hall. Reggie didn't.”

Ellen laughed merrily as they went in pursuit of the score of dogs and Lord Herrold. It might not be such a bad day, after all.

Sitting beneath a tree at the edge of a field, Ellen lowered her book to her lap and watched Lord Herrold as he bent over his dogs and spoke to them as earnestly as if they could comprehend every word he spoke. Beside him, Marian sat on her horse. Her impatient expression was visible even from the far side of the field.

The green shadows beneath the trees lengthened as the sun dipped toward the sea. Ellen could not recall the last time she had enjoyed such a peaceful day … and been so suffused with
ennui
. It was the first day since her arrival at Wolfe Abbey that she had not spoken with Corey. Odd that he should have been absent today when he had followed her on every other outing she had taken.

Lorenzo came to sit beside her. Pulling a handkerchief from a pocket, he wiped his sweating face. “My best riding pantaloons,” he said with a grimace.

“What happened?” she asked when she saw the foot-long rip in the left leg.

“I failed to remember the ha-ha at the edge of this lea. With luck, my tumble knocked some sense into my head.” He uncapped a canister and held it out. When she hesitated, he said, “'Tis only water, Ellen. I suspect Reggie will be anxious to renew his acquaintance with the bottles from the Abbey's cellars by the time we return. As he dislikes drinking alone …”