Page 10 of A Ghost of a Chance

Her expression twisted in sympathy. “I’m so deeply sorry.’

“If I could have gotten him to the surgeon sooner....” He shook his head. Swallowed.

“It may not have mattered,” she said in a hushed voice. “The surgeon might not have been able to save Benjamin, regardless.”

“I tell myself that, but it’s small comfort.”

Rafe transported back to a muddy battlefield filled with cries of the wounded and dying. Benjamin had clung to Rafe, barely strong enough to open his eyes and had said, ‘I knew you would come.’ As Rafe tried to lift him into his arms and carry him to the surgeons, Benjamin’s life had drained away.

A gentle, musical voice brought him back to the hothouse and the lovely lady across from him. “When he was dying and afraid, you were with him. No one should die alone.” Profound sadness overtook her.

She shook off her own sorrow and leaned forward to look so deeply into his eyes that he almost forgot to breathe, yet the boulder that had been a constant weight on his chest dissipated. “You were there when your friend needed you most.”

Perhaps she was right. Still, how could he ignore his own role in Benjamin’s death? After a moment, he leaned forward and rested his arms on his legs, bringing him closer to her. “Do you believe there’s an afterlife? A Heaven?”

A frown touched her brow. “In truth, I know not.”

Thoughtfully, he nodded. “Nor do I. My mother believes in Heaven, unquestioningly. I suppose it doesn’t hurt to believe; at least it gives a measure of comfort. She often says that without a belief in an afterlife, living is pointless.”

“She makes a good point, yet I wish I could know of a surety.” Her eyes took on a faraway expression.

A desire to touch her trickled through him. He leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankle to affect a relaxed pose. In reality, he did it to put some distance between them lest he give in to the urge to become overly familiar. “What about you? Who is your family?”

A sad smile touched her mouth. “My father was a gentleman who fancied himself a scholar. He was fascinated with insects.”

Was. He must have died, then. “Insects?”

She smiled sadly. “My mother ever despaired of his growing collection. He pinned and framed them, and insisted on telling us all about them.” She gave a delicate shiver. “I never shared his fascination.” A dreamy wistfulness entered her eyes. Barely above a whisper, she added, “But my brother did.”

He did not miss her use of her family in the past tense. Gently, he asked, “Are they gone?”

She nodded. “I’m alone.”

He paused. “Recently?”

“No, but it sometimes seems as if it happened but yesterday. At other times, it seems as if they have been gone forever.”

“I understand.” He shared the sentiment regarding Benjamin.

This conversation had grown too serious. He needed to change the subject. Curiosity arose regarding her situation. If she were alone, with whom did she live? Had she been forced to find employment as a lady's companion or a governess? Still, he ought not press her to satisfy his curiosity. What lighter topic might he address?

She came to his rescue. “Pray tell me, what diversions do you most enjoy now that you are home in England?”

“Lurking about in pubs in search of ladies who aren’t afraid of spooks.” He smirked, hoping his attempt at humor would please her.

She laughed, a sweet, warm sound of pure delight that lit his heart from within.

“I made you laugh again,” he said in glee. “A victory, to be sure.” It was all he could do not to let out an undignified whoop.

Smiling more broadly than she had until this point, she cocked her head to the side. “I am persuaded that you, Mr. Rafe Beauchamp, are trouble.”

“I am persuaded that you are a wise and insightful lady, Miss Osanne Jewell.” He paused. “It is Miss, is it not? You aren’t wed? Or promised...?”

“No, I have no attachments.” She lifted her brows in clear question.

“Nor do I,” he hurried to assure her. Did he imagine her relief?

She tilted her head. “None at all? I find that difficult to believe.”