Chapter Thirteen
Rafe was clearly up to something. Osanne laughed at his infectious delight, his warm chuckle, the sparkle in his eyes, the spring in his step. As a child, Christmas had been her favorite holiday, but All Hallows’ Eve had become more precious than any other holiday.
He held out a hand and she took it, concentrating on counter-pressure. Again, came that sensation of feeling. How lovely. How right.
He glanced at her with barely concealed excitement. “I have news for you. And a surprise.”
“Ah. I knew you were up to something. What, pray tell, is it?”
“I learned that your brother is still alive, married and living in Ambleside, up in the Lake District.”
She froze. “Henry still lives? He’s well?”
“Very well. Happy, even. I corresponded with him. You have three nieces and a nephew, all grown and married with families of their own.”
She had missed seeing him grow up, meeting his wife, getting to know his children. He would be seventy by now, far from the youth she remembered. So much of life had passed her by.
But he lived still and was happy. A profound relief lifted her soul. She consciously reminded herself to stay near the ground so as to appear to walk and returned her focus on holding his hand.
They rounded the bend in the road. There, crowning the hill with light, lay Ravenswood Manor, just as it always had been. But Rafe had never before been so enthusiastic about going there with her.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked with laughter in her voice.
“Nowhere special—merely to Ravenswood Manor.” He grinned. “My home.”
She may have gaped at him like a fish out of water. “You live in Ravenswood Manor?”
Laughing, Rafe shook his head. “I’m not certain if I’ll ever grow accustomed to seeing you floating in the air.”
“I’ll try to keep that to a minimum. But you can hardly blame me; this is quite a shock.”
He grinned and held a hand up to her. She moved downward into position next to him and wound her fingers through his.
“I still can hardly believe we’re holding hands.” He tightened his fingers around hers.
“Would that I could hold onto you for all time.”
He went very still and gave her such an intensely searching look that she might have burst into tears for the joy and wholeness creeping over her. “I feel the same way.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a quick, sad smile. “If only....”
If only....
To shake off the sorrow settling over them both, she said lightly, “You truly live in Ravenswood Manor?”
“I don’t merely live there—I bought it.” His eyes sparkled.
“What?”
“Honestly, I can hardly believe it myself. I thought for certain it was entailed, but when the family who had been renting it all those years left this past summer, I learned that it could be purchased, and Henry was only too happy to sell it to me.” He tugged on her hand.
“Come, the annual masquerade ball is happening tonight as usual. I want you to meet my parents.”
She lifted a brow and said doubtfully, “Meet your parents?”
He shrugged. “Well, you know... see them. They are hosting for the night, and I will appear frequently enough to satisfy anyone paying attention to my presence or lack thereof. It started out as a way to justify hiring several locals who needed work, but then....” Sobering, he looked intently at her. “I thought you’d be happy.”
He had purchased her ancestral home. What did that mean? She gave him her most dazzling smile. “I am delighted it belongs to you now. Truly. I’m just still getting over the surprise. Then you plan on living here in Madding Hallow year-round?”
“I do. I’ve made very good friends here. This is where I spend most of my time.”
“I am touched and so happy you have chosen Ravenswood Manor as your home.” She smiled warmly. “Knowing you’re living in my ancestral home makes me feel closer to you.”
“I, as well. There is nowhere else I’d rather be. It already feels like home to me, and I want you to feel that way again, too.”
She looked up at the manor. Rafe’s home, now. How lovely. How right.
They walked in together. The evening passed in a pleasant whirl.
Osanne adored his parents. She found them to be cultured without being overly stuffy, fashionable without being obsessed with displaying wealth, and polite with subtle, delightful senses of humor.
His father was an older, even more distinguished version of Rafe, with silver gilding his thick, dark hair.
Lines around kind eyes set in a handsome face gave her a glimpse into Rafe’s future appearance.
His mother had the same pale, yet bright eyes as Rafe, and a ready smile.
Osanne admired Rafe as he greeted guests, and reveled in his frequent glances her way to let her know he still saw her—that she was important to him.
After what felt like eons of loneliness, she might never become accustomed to such a wonder.
Would it last or would he tire of her and of the limitations of their relationship?
After greeting the guests, including the Browns, Rafe danced a set with an impoverished middle-aged widow, all the while giving her every courtesy and kindness.
A perfect gentleman—kind, attentive, courteous.
After the dance, he bowed over the widow’s hand.
As he turned away, he gave a meaningful look at Osanne then looked toward the doorway.
She met him there. He murmured to a footman, then led the way to the music room.
A rosy-cheeked Fanny, Mrs. Grainger’s great-granddaughter, smiled at Rafe and bobbed a curtsy before rushing off to do some errand.
“You hired Fanny?” Osanne asked.
“She needed employment and housing.”
Osanne gave him a tender smile. “You are a good man.”
Rafe’s lips quirked in a self-conscious smile as he closed the door behind him. “I can only be gone for the duration of a dance set.” He grimaced. “Perhaps agreeing to host the annual ball was a mistake. Now I must divide my attention between everyone else and you.”
“’Tis of no consequence. I shall amuse myself with the pianoforte while you are with your guests.” Osanne led him to a comfortable sofa and patted the cushion next to her. “Tell me about your year.”
Rafe settled next to her. “I spent Christmas with my family. My brother and his wife had their third child. I visited a few more of my former comrades, and then came back here.” He darted a glance at her. “Mrs. Grainger died this spring, did you know?”
“My mother’s friend? No.”
“You haven’t...seen her?” He turned sideways on the bench to face her fully.
She carefully avoided looking down lest he notice that his knees passed through her.
Such a sight would only serve as an unpleasant reminder—not that they were in danger of forgetting.
“I have not seen Mrs. Grainger’s ghost, if that is what you are asking.
I only see those who linger here as I do.
I don’t see those who move on quickly. I never saw my parents, either.
I can only assume they died, since my brother inherited the estate. ”
Gently, he said, “Your mother died five years after you did. They say she died of a broken heart. Your father lasted another twenty years.”
She nodded slowly. She had suspected they had both gone, but the news still created a fog of sorrow that settled over her.
Rafe reached for her. She went into his arms, focusing on pushing back against him. His embrace pushed back her sorrow and created that near-sensation of touch. Of life. Of home. How remarkable, and wonderful, to feel again! If only she could sustain it.
He tilted his head to one side. “Do you hear footsteps?”
She nodded. “Coming this way.”
Rafe moved to the piano and played a simple piece by Bach. A soft knock on the door came.
“Yes?” Rafe called, still playing.
“A new set is about to begin, sir,” called a male voice, presumably the footman to whom Rafe had been speaking.
Rafe called out, “Thank you.”
Osanne giggled. “When did you learn to play the piano?”
“I had my first lesson when I was four.”
She reared back in surprise and floated upward a few inches.
“I haven’t played in years, but I figured I ought to know a few pieces,” he jerked his thumb toward the door through which the footman had spoken, “for just such an occasion. So, I’ve been practicing.”
“Very clever.”
“In addition, playing helps me feel connected to you, even when you’re gone.” He held out his hand again and she obliged him by pressing hers to it.
He stood. “Regrettably, I must dance another set.”
She smiled. “I already hear the next refrain for my piece. I shall work on it until your return.”
He smiled and left her in the music room to play to her heart’s content, locking the door behind him. His voice carried to her as he instructed a servant not to open the door.
At the pianoforte, she played with more joy than ever. Her song took shape into a beautiful composition. Then she played other selections, losing herself in music and the unique bliss it provided.
Rafe returned, smiling like a man who had a secret and sat next to her again.
An amused light danced in his eyes. “My parents are watching all the female guests. They have surmised that the reason I decided to settle here is because I have found a young lady, and are scrutinizing everyone with whom I speak, or dance, or even glance at.”
“Oh? Have you given them any reason to suspect someone in particular?”
He shook his head. “I’ve limited all my conversations and dances to older widows, and married ladies.” He chuckled. “My mother is becoming impatient.”
She shared a smile with him. “I hear footsteps. Someone is coming again.”
Rafe played that same piece by Bach.
The door opened. “Here you are!” Rafe’s mother sailed in, her silk skirts whispering. She stopped short and looked about.
Rafe ceased playing and turned to her. “Mother?”
She blinked at him. “You’re here alone?”
Rafe let out a sigh and nodded. “Forgive me for leaving, but I was a bit overcome by the crowd and needed a few moments’ peace.”