Page 21 of A Ghost of a Chance

Rafe snickered into his hand and shot Osanne a pleased smile.

“Do you want to test that?” She glided back a few paces toward the door.

“Ah, you’re no fun,” Frank grumbled.

“Come on.” John gestured to his brother.

They slunk away, fading from view through the outer wall. Osanne followed them to be sure they had not deceived her. Surprisingly, the boys obediently headed to the woods, tailing a group of youth likely seeking a fright. An instant later, screams of delighted terror rang out.

Satisfied, Osanne returned to the inn. With his hands cupping a hot drink, Rafe stood outside waiting for her. He smiled at her approach.

Her quaint old village took on a new beauty with him there. True, all remained in various shades of gray in the eventide, but the lights burned brighter, the moon glowed, stars glimmered, even the bare trees looked silver in the moonlight and took on a magical quality.

As they strolled through Madding Hollow, Osanne kept her attention on Rafe. He had come back—to see her! What a remarkable turn of events.

The gypsies entertained, read palms, and sold wares. Madam Miska glanced at them, or rather, Rafe, as he passed by. The Romani woman took a second glance and turned thoughtful. Rafe nodded to her. Another young woman plopped down in front of the gypsy woman and asked for her fortune.

“Mr. Brown,” Rafe greeted a man about his own age wearing a multi-caped woolen coat very similar to the one Rafe wore.

Osanne studied the man. He did bear a resemblance to a child who had grown into a younger man whom she had seen about the village. When she failed to see him for several years, she had assumed he had died young or moved away. Apparently, he had returned, older of course, from wherever he had gone.

Mr. Brown cocked his head and squinted his eyes as if trying to remember something. “Forgive me, but while your face is familiar, I cannot recall your name.”

“Rafe Beauchamp. I’m the lunatic you met last All Saints’ Day who peppered you with questions about ghosts.”

Mr. Brown snapped his fingers. “Of course! Did you find the answers you sought?”

Rafe glanced at Osanne with a smile. “I believe I have discovered at least one answer.” A laugh tugged at the corner of his mouth. “What is a vicar doing at a wild celebration such as this?”

Mr. Brown smiled sheepishly. “Just trying to stay near my flock. It’s appropriate to be a part of the local customs. Helps build rapport.”

A familiar-looking lovely young lady walked past with a couple who could only be her parents, based on the resemblance. She smiled shyly at Mr. Brown.

The vicar touched his hat. “Mr. and Mrs. Morris. Miss Morris.” His gaze lingered on Miss Morris’s face. She smiled and glanced down as she tucked a stray dark curl into her bonnet.

The mother and father greeted him. Miss Morris cast him one last look from underneath her lashes before hurrying to catch up with her parents, who strolled on the path toward Ravenswood Manor.

Mr. Brown looked after her for a moment, then gave Rafe a friendly smile. “Will you visit our humble village longer this time, Mr. Beauchamp?”

“I wish I could, but I’m merely passing through.” He gave Osanne another smile. “I am persuaded, however, that this is the most appealing place to spend All Hallows’ Eve. Perhaps I shall make it an annual event.”

Was he in earnest? The thought of him greeting her every time she awoke, spending the whole night with her, inspiring her music, and reminding her what it was to be a part of someone’s life, made her want to burst into song.

Mr. Brown gestured toward the quaint church. “And I am persuaded that we would benefit from your visits. May I hope to see you for the All Saints’ Day service?”

Rafe smiled but offered no commitment.

Mr. Brown wisely didn’t press him. “Think it over. In the meantime, I must be off. This year, I’m an invited guest at the masquerade.”

A particular gleam in his eye revealed that his interest probably lay in a certain young lady. Mr. Brown bade them good evening and trotted toward Ravenswood Manor in an attempt to catch up to the Morris family.

Rafe nodded toward the house and asked Osanne, “Do you wish to play your music?”

“I would, very much.”

Rafe and Osanne ambled along the lane toward Ravenswood Manor, taking their time to give the invited guests the opportunity to arrive without noticing trespassers.

“Music, first,” Rafe said. “And then?”