A Phantom Affair (6 page)

“Probably not, but others will.”

Ellen stiffened at his easy chuckle. Staring up at him, she wondered how any man could be so seductive and vexing at the same time.

When he turned to walk back toward the hearth, she tried to think of something to say. Something to console him. He might irritate her past words, but every sight, every sound, every smell must remind him that—for him—life was over.

“Corey?”

“Do not feel sorry for me, Ellen.”

Her forehead threaded with confusion. “Can you read my mind? The window, and now this.”

“You wear your thoughts plainly on your not plain face, my dear Miss Dunbar.” Dropping to sit on the stones of the hearth, he grinned again. “You are welcome to revile me, for I know I can be bothersome. You can snarl at me, or you can coo sweet court-promises at me. Just never, never pity me. No one can pick the life—or the afterlife—to be dealt to them.”

“Why do you still wear the patch?” she asked, crossing the room to stand by the bed.

“Mayhap for the same reason I wear these blasted boots.” He scowled at the sleek boots that clung to his legs. “This is what I was wearing when I kicked off this earth. If I had had fair warning, I would have chosen something more comfortable. However, they do make me look quite the dashing spirit, don't they?”

“I have never seen a ghost in such prime twig.”

His chuckle swept away his frown. “Now I understand why you have failed to make a match. Pity the man who must suffer the sharp edge of your tongue for the rest of his days.”

“I would not want to marry a man who failed to appreciate all of me. I—”

Corey leaped to his feet as she winced. “Ellen, what is wrong?”

“'Tis nothing save my arm. It pains so at times.”

He cursed his own selfishness. Because his pain had receded along with his attachment to his corporeal form, he had ignored hers. How could he forget the severity of what they both had suffered out in the garden? She might forgive his insensitivity—considering the circumstances—but he could not. For the first time, he noted the rose of her cheeks was frosted with pallor and her eyes were bright with anguish.

As he reached out to help her sit, he stared at the odd light blossoming off his skin. By the Lord Harry, this was the worst muddle he could imagine.

Corey swallowed his frustration and said, “Please sit down, Ellen, before you swoon. I do not know if there is a single vial of
sal volatile
in all of the Abbey.”

“I make it a practice never to swoon.” Her faint voice belied her assertion.

“Sit.”

“I think you are right.”

Again he swore under his breath. That she was so acquiescent warned him she might be hurt even worse than he had been led to believe when he listened to the doctor speak with Lorenzo. That old addle cove had delivered every babe born in Wolfe Abbey in the past forty years, but he knew little about tending anything more serious than indigestion.

“Wait here,” he ordered.

“Where—?” Ellen bit her lip as she realized she was alone.
That
was something that must change posthaste. He could not go popping in and out of sight like the moon playing hide-and-seek with the clouds.

Was she all about in her head? None of this could continue. The wisest thing would be for her to leave Wolfe Abbey. She must collect Marian and leave without delay.

Ellen pushed herself to her feet. A single step almost undid her, but she forced herself to take another. Any sign of weakness would persuade Marian to follow the doctor's orders and remain here.

“Where are you off to?”

She spun and collapsed onto the bench by the low table. When Corey held out a glass of red wine, she watched her own hand raise to take it. She stared at him, then at the wine.

“Go ahead,” he urged. “'Tis no ghostly brew, just some good burgundy brought by an interloper from France. It may return some of the color to your cheeks.”

“Where did you get this?” She looked at the dressing room door. “How did you get this in here without being seen?”

He smiled. “Don't forget. These have been my rooms since I came home from France. Even before …” He scowled, then rushed on, “I could slip through these rooms without anyone seeing me. It would be a shame if I could not skulk about them now.”

Ellen took a slow sip of the wine in the delightfully chilled glass, then another. The sturdy flavor of the bracing wine flowed through her, cooling the trepidation burning in her heart. Lowering the glass, she said, “All right. What do we do now?”

“Rest.”

At Marian's cheerful voice, Ellen glanced over her shoulder. Marian bustled into the room, looked around, and smiled as she gave Ellen a buss on the cheek. While Sullivan set out the dishes on the tray she had brought in, Marian flitted about the room, adjusting a book here and moving a figurine there. Ellen smiled her thanks to Sullivan, even though she doubted if she could swallow a single bite of the toast.

“Marian, you should be pleased to see that I am sitting quietly,” Ellen said, wondering how she could convince Corey to leave so she might speak with her friend in private. If he vanished, that would be worse, for she could not guess if he were eavesdropping.

There was no worry about that. Corey settled himself on the chair by the fireplace, a grin warning her that he was enjoying the whole situation far more than he should.

“Go away!” Ellen mouthed.

“Did you say something, dear?” Marian asked. Her pale yellow wrapper flowed back to reveal her ankles, which she would never have bared if she had had any idea a man might see.

“Only that I wish to go home.”

“Soon, my dear.” She tapped her chin and frowned. “I need to send word to your family of this mishap.”

“Mishap?” repeated Corey with a chuckle. “Marian has developed a rare talent for understatement, I see.”

Ellen wanted to hush him. Her lips tightened when he folded his hands behind his head and grinned at her. Blast him! He was relishing every moment of her discomfort. What kind of gentleman was he? No kind, she reminded herself with a suppressed shudder. He was a phantasm.

Marian went to the window and lowered it. “The doctor said no drafts, Ellen. You must not sicken in addition to your injuries.” She pointed to the chair by the hearth. “May I sit and keep you company during your breakfast?”

“No!” she cried. “Don't sit there!”

Marian paused, her back end only an inch from Corey's lap. “Whatever is wrong, Ellen?”

“Sit here.” She grasped the back of another chair and pulled it closer. The squeak of its legs against the floor ached through her head, and she decided the truth would be the very best excuse. “My head hurts, and I do not wish to shout across this grand room.”

“As you wish.” Marian took the seat. With a frown, she said, “You seem uncommonly unsettled.”

“It has been an uncommonly unsettling day.”

Corey interjected, “No truer words have ever been uttered.”

Ellen flashed him a scowl, but fixed a smile on her face for her friend. “You can see that I am resting as the doctor ordered.”

“I am glad you have come to your senses.” Marian toyed with the lace on the front of her wrapper. “I had feared you would stay in the dismals for days. You were barely consolable last night when you were told of Lord Wulfric's death.”

“I have cried enough.”

Corey grinned and rocked the chair back on two feet.

With a gasp, Ellen jumped up. She shoved his chair forward. Its feet crashed onto the floor.

Marian leaped to her feet. “Ellen, whatever are you doing? You shall break that chair.”

“I thought it was tipping over.”

“How could it tip over all by itself?”

Ellen had no answer for that. Certainly not one she could give Marian. Mumbling that her eyes must have been playing a trick on her, she let Marian settle her in bed. Honestly, she was delighted to rest against the mound of pillows that Marian arranged around her.

“You must be more sensible,” Marian cautioned. “Poor Lorenzo is quite beside himself to think of what you have suffered here.”

“He is not to blame for what happened.”

Corey stood and came to lean on the bedpost across from where Marian was tucking the counterpane around Ellen. He said wryly, “Lorenzo will exult in the chance to apologize for days to come. You shall find his endless attempts at atonement a trial, I can assure you.”

“He could not,” Ellen went on, “see into the future. No one can. Can they?”

“Not I,” Corey replied with a grin. “Otherwise, I vow I would have listened more carefully to Fenton.”

“Of course not,” Marian said.

“Fenton?” Ellen asked. She looked at Marian. “Who is Fenton?”

“What are you talking about?” Her friend's face lengthened with bafflement. “My dear, mayhap I should have the doctor come back and examine you again. You seem unable to follow the course of a simple conversation.”

Corey chuckled. “'Tis because this is no simple conversation. Fenton is the old man who warned us about the fireworks, Ellen.”

A knock on the door spared Ellen from having to answer either of them. She was surprised when she almost laughed as Corey stepped back and gave a deep bow as Marian rushed past him. Somehow, he made even these bizarre circumstances amusing. She never had met anyone quite like him, and she could not help wondering what he might have been like if he had remained alive. Was he always so whimsical?

Marian opened the door only wide enough so she could see out. Then, telling Ellen she would return straightaway and to eat, she slipped out into the hall.

“Lorenzo probably has some crisis,” Corey said, sitting on the bottom of the bed. “Marian is right. You should eat. You are nearly as pale as a specter, and who should know that better than I?”

“Is this how it is going to be? Must I suffer your endless pranks?” She flung out her hands. “If I had a smidgen of good sense, I would go out there and denounce you before the whole household.”

“And they would lock you away in Bedlam.” He pointed to the plate on the tray Marian had set on the table beside the bed. “Please eat. There is enough sorrow around here without you causing more by cocking up your toes in the wake of my demise. You need to eat and get yourself back on two solid feet.”

“And then?”

“What do you think? I shall find you a match made in heaven.” He chuckled. “Or as close as Corey Wolfe can come to it.”

Four

Ellen cautiously entered the stable. She still did not trust her knees to hold her up, but with every hour, her strength was returning.

Hay crunched beneath her high-lows, and she was glad she had chosen her boots instead of slippers. The aromas from the beasts and the recently cleaned leather brought back beloved memories of her simple life in Scotland. Then she had fantasized about living a grand whirl of parties and
soirées
in a splendid house like Wolfe Abbey. It was most peculiar now that she was staying in such a magnificent house, she found the most welcome within the stables.

Of course, she reminded herself sternly, when she had journeyed south into England, she never could have imagined her life would take this absurd turn.

Something shifted in the shadows. Not something, she realized, but someone.

A small man, not as tall as she, inched out of the darkest corner. He was bent like the trees clinging to the seashore cliffs. She could not guess how old he might be. His hair was lined with silver, but his face was one that would look as old at a score of years as at three times that number.

It was almost as if he had been waiting for her, as if he knew she would be coming. He put his fingers to the brim of the floppy felt cap.

“Are you Fenton?” she asked.

“Aye. Who be ye?”

“Ellen Dunbar.”

His brows shot up. “So ye be she?” He walked around her, reminding her of a small songbird chirping and hopping about. “Ye were with the master the other night.”

“Yes.” Dampening her lips, she said, “I heard you warning him about the fireworks. Why?”

“Simple, 'tis. Just repeatin' what I'd told the master before. Warned him that the blind buzzard firin' off the rockets had no more sense than one of the sheep down on the lea.”

“Why didn't he heed you?”

“Wanted those rockets powerfully bad. Been lookin' forward to celebratin' the end of Boney's war.”

Ellen nodded. The old man's words confirmed what she had already learned about Corey. He apparently had been in the army during the war. At one point, his family must have given him up for dead if Mr. Wolfe had taken the title of Lord Wulfric for a time. It was all most confusing, but she would not ask Fenton about that when she had other questions for him. Later she would quiz Marian.

“But how did you know there would be an accident?” she asked.

He bent to rub his right knee. “Heard it in my bones.”

“Heard it?”

“Creak like the roof of the stable in a storm when trouble be coming.”

“Do you hear anything now?”

“No.”

“I am glad.” Ellen forced a smile. What had she expected him to say? That his bones were shrieking out a warning?

“But ye be disturbed.”

More than you can guess
, she was tempted to answer. “It is always disturbing to have someone die so young.”

“'Tain't right.”

“I agree.” She took a deep breath, then said, “I wish he had listened to you.”

“Aye, so do I. Then this wouldn't be happenin'. 'Twould be easier on all of us, 'specially ye, Miss Dunbar.”

Ellen was unsure how to answer. She appreciated his compassion, but she did not want it. To surrender now to the pain bubbling within her like a witch's cauldron would strip away every bit of her façade. She could not reveal the truth of her disquiet. Nobody spoke of what happened to those who lost their minds, but it would not be pleasant to be shut away for the rest of her life.