Chapter One #3
“It’s a lonely existence.”
Was it possible loneliness plagued him as much as it did her? “You do not have family, Rafe?”
“Yes, but I don’t belong there, either. When I came home from the war, nothing seemed to fit.”
He had fought in the war? That explained the melancholy expression he’d worn when she first spotted him. She imagined him in battle but shrank from placing such a kind and gentle man in the midst of that.
“Did you serve in the infantry?”
“Cavalry.” He paused. “I was a captain.” A shadow settled onto his expression.
He shot her only the briefest of glances before looking away, but in that instant, pain revealed itself to her.
As a captain, he had likely been forced to send men to battle, to their deaths, and had seen all manner of horrors, the likes of which she could not begin to imagine. The experience clearly haunted him.
“I thank you for serving king and country.” Softly, she added, “It cost you much, I believe.”
In a near whispered, he agreed, “Much, indeed.”
Three boys ran about, laughing as they played practical jokes by changing shop signs, taking gates off their hinges, rattling door latches.
Rafe stepped out of their way. His expression softened as he looked back after the children. “Are they the Larkin boys?”
She smiled. “No, those are the Adams and Jefferson boys, I believe. I’m fairly certain the Larkins are frightening people in the churchyard.”
To punctuate her words, more screams split the night coming from behind the church.
He nodded sagely. “I do believe you’re right. I suspect people go to the graveyard on All Hallows’ Eve fully expecting to be frightened.”
“Indeed. Still, it seems rather juvenile of the lads to behave in such a manner.”
“I won’t disagree with you. In fact, I can’t see myself disagreeing with you on anything.”
His pretty words could not be true. Could they? She decided to tease him a bit. “So, if I point at the church and call it a lovely castle bathed in the glow of a sunrise, you would say....?”
“That I’ve never beheld a more beautiful sunrise over a more lovely castle.” He grinned.
“Oh, you are a charmer. You must break hearts everywhere you go.”
“Only on good days.” His smile broadened.
A villager dressed as a nightmarish animal nearly collided with Rafe. Offering a vague, drunken apology, he danced away with others cavorting around the bonfire, laughing and shrieking.
Rafe gestured. “While this all seems great fun, I cannot countenance the idea that spirits must be entertained by the living or they’ll find a body to possess.”
“I am not certain any of them believe they will be possessed if they fail to dress in such a manner; more likely ’tis a time-honored excuse to act like savages.”
He inclined his head to concede. “I daresay you’re right. But that doesn’t explain how quickly those in the pub believed they were being haunted.”
Osanne shrugged. “People fear what they cannot easily explain—even boyish antics.”
“True.”
She cast a sideways glance. “Has it not occurred to you that spirits might, in truth, wander the earth on All Hallows’ Eve?”
He shook his dark head and that lock of hair fell over one eye again. “I don’t believe in ghosts any more than I believe in angels.” He glanced at her, then took a second, longer look. “Does that disappoint you?”
“I, too, wonder if there truly is more beyond...this.” She waved lightly around them. “What if nothing lies beyond this realm of existence?”
Despite the loneliness of her existence, the idea of having no existence at all was unthinkable. If that mysterious light that sometimes appeared just before dawn led to oblivion...well, it was too awful to consider.
Three small children too young for the schoolroom raced directly in front of them. Rafe halted his steps to avoid them. One little boy fell and started to wail.
“There now.” Rafe picked up the child, brushed off dirt, and dabbed at the wound with his handkerchief. “I hear that being the only person who gets a skinned knee on All Hallows’ Eve is powerful good luck. But don’t tell anyone; we wouldn’t want anyone else to get injured, would we?”
The little boy laughed and scampered off. Rafe watched him fondly. What a kind gentleman. And good with children.
Chuckling, he glanced at Osanne. “Would you care to go somewhere perhaps a bit less...crowded to talk?”
She hesitated. Dare she embrace the moment? Torn, she glanced at Ravenwood Manor, lured to the pianoforte and a new refrain of music ringing in her head. She glanced again at Rafe, the only man with whom she had enjoyed a conversation in far too long, who seemed truly interested in her.
Really, she ought to stop now before going too far down this path.
No matter how tempting, spending more time with Rafe might fan her growing admiration for him.
It could only lead to greater loneliness after he left.
By his own admission, he was only passing through. Likely, she’d never see him again.
And yet, how could she stop now? It would be like rejecting a much-desired gift.