constricting vice grip.
Stillness . All around. Douglas’s unsettling presence, along with his maddening tricks and illusions, were … gone . No longer did the shadows across the ground elongate into disfigured ghouls shrieking his name and pawing at him with decaying fingers. Tranquility had followed this mesmerizing beauty. Peace and serenity had a name—more beautiful than any other.
“Lenore,” Edgar whispered a second time.
“Well, that will make it easy to remember.” Lenore giggled, gracing him with the full wattage of her beaming smile. “However it will be dreadfully confusing at gatherings of any sort.”
“Edgar,” his father injected, wiping his face before standing in greeting. “His name, w hich seems to have eluded him, is Edgar Allen. And I am his father, John.”
“The pleasure is mine, Monsieur Allen.” Lenore offered him her hand, dipping in a slight curtsey. John dotted it with a quick kiss, then caught Edgar’s eye to silently encourage him to do the same.
A hot flush rushed to Edgar’s round face. His trembling hands racked over his unruly hair, suddenly wishing he had taken a bit more time to tame it. It probably jotted off his head like a plethora of carrot sprouts. Even so, he eagerly anticipated the offering of her hand … which failed to come. Instead, she momentarily stuck a blade into his heart by taking a step back toward the door she entered.
The blow was softened the moment she spoke. “I passed the loveliest garden off the foyer. Edgar, would you mind showing it to me? I am enamored with flowers of any sort.”
Before Edgar could trumpet his ready acceptance, Mr. Reynolds intervened. His plump chest expanding in a huff. “Lenore, you know this to be a business dinner. Such flights of fancy are highly inappropriate.”
She waved his bothersome words away with a flick of her delicate hand. “Yes, and I know that Edgar and I were only brought here to make you both appear to be upstanding family-men deserving of each other’s trust and association.”
Silence fell across the room. Each shifted foot blaring like a train-whistle. Both men in question pointedly cast their stares anywhere but at Lenore or each other.
Biting her bottom lip to stifle a grin, Lenore attempted another tactic.
“Of course, Father, you know as a female I haven’t the sense for business.” Lenore innocently widened her eyes, her impossibly long lashes brushing her brow. Catching one cascading lock of her hair, she twirled it around her index finger. “Saddle Edgar with the task of occupying my simple mind with the lovely blooms of their garden, and I will spend the time regaling him with stories of what a kind and doting papa you are.”
Instantly, her father’s features softened. Like so many men, he was putty to be molded by the whims of his little girl. “Of course, my dear,” he grinned, leaning in he brushed a quick peck to the tip of her nose. “Our talks will be frightfully dull for you. This is, by far, the preferable option.”
Over her father’s shoulder, Edgar watched Lenore’s expression of mock innocence sharpen with sly victory as she shot him a conspiratorial wink.
For years the vindictive spirits had denied Edgar the beauty of the garden, making it appear to him as nothing more than a rotted and barren wasteland. In Lenore’s presence the floral paradise had returned to him. Unable to contain his enthusiasm, Edgar released the arm linked with hers and rushed to the giant pompon puffs of the pink and blue hydrangeas. Gathering them in gentle hands, he tipped his face to inhale their sweet, but light, fragrance.
“Heaven to the senses, yet so fleeting,” Edgar murmured. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the long pink and white petals of the stargazer lilies. Dirt and rock kicked up from under his shoes as he darted the distance to the beckoning blooms. Eagerly, he filled his lungs with their aroma. “ Mmm , you could scour the world over