Page 11 of A Ghost of a Chance

He shrugged. “My parents hope I’ll offer for Benjamin’s sister, Kitty, but we have no understanding. She will only ever be Kitty Bug, or Peanut.” More quietly, he added, “And I see too much of Ben in her smile, her eyes.”

Osanne’s thoughtful gaze lit on him like a butterfly, then she looked down. A moment later, she tilted her head. “You haven’t really answered my question. Pray tell me which diversions please you.”

“To be honest, I spend most of my days traveling.”

“To where, if I may ask?”

“You may ask me anything you wish. I’m paying calls on my fellow troopers—the men under my command, and the families of those who died.” Far too many had died during his leadership.

“‘Tis an admirable endeavor.”

He nodded slowly. At times, he seemed to do more harm than good. Still, some had needed money or a listening ear or help finding employment or a reason to cease drowning themselves in bottles of liquid forgetfulness. Still, he had been unable to shake off his numbness.

He hadn’t realized until tonight, but he had nearly lost his zest for life. It was like living for years in darkness, and not seeing how much he had missed the light until he stepped out into the sunshine. Being with Osanne provided a reprieve from the horrors he both witnessed and caused. She reminded him that light and hope existed in the world.

She sat watching him, letting him sort his thoughts. How had he ever thought she might have designs on him? She was too sweet, too gentle, too kind, too soothing.

Would courting the mysterious and wonderful Osanne qualify as an admirable endeavor? Perhaps she could help him find the pieces of his soul, of his humanity, that he had left on the battlefield.

Chapter Three

The beautiful and alluring Osanne gave him another softly captivating smile. “What, pray tell, do you do between visiting your former comrades-at-arms?”

“Hmm.” When was the last time he indulged in a true diversion? “I haven’t indulged in a while, but I enjoy exploring ruins—crumbling old castles, Roman remnants, that sort of thing. And I enjoy history, origins of all kinds—buildings, stately homes, words.” He smiled. “Names. What about you? Favorite diversions?”

“I have always adored long rambles, dancing, and playing the pianoforte.”

He pictured himself going on some of those long rambles with her, dancing with her in his arms, sitting close to her on the bench of a pianoforte while she played. “Why did you choose the pianoforte?”

“Well, I wanted to learn the bagpipes but my mother said they were too loud.” She affected an expression of disappointment, but the sly, playful glint in her dark eyes overrode it.

He chuckled. “They aren’t all that loud...from a hundred feet away.”

In a dreamy voice, she said, “’Twould be lovely to hear them played in the middle of a highland moor by a Scottish lad in a kilt.” Her longing smile filled him with the desire to make her wish come true.

“Perhaps you will someday,” he said.

Her enigmatic expression left him with more questions, but she asked the next one. “Have you found any ruins to explore in this area?”

“I’ve only just arrived this eve. Do you know of any?”

“There were some old Roman ruins, just there.” She gestured behind the Great House.

“There were old Roman ruins?”

“I’m uncertain if they still exist, or if the new residents—” she gestured to the manor— “had them removed or plowed over. Not everyone appreciates history.”

“That’s true. Sometimes when I talk about history or ruins, it’s all some people can do to avoid yawning.”

“’Tis a shame.”

“Are you telling me if I described to you all about the last place I visited, you wouldn’t yawn, not even once?”

She held up her hand in a solemn pledge. “I give you my word.”

Just to test her, he launched into a detailed account of an ancient fortress he visited the previous year, and all the research he had done to learn of its past. True to her word, Osanne never once looked bored nor close to yawning. She listened attentively as if she truly found his topic interesting. Was it possible she found him interesting as well?

He ended with, “It’s a pity so little is known of that old place.”