“Will do,” he said and was gone.
Alexandra Landseer was in high spirits.
After a couple of days of rest, she invited Mister Corey and Padjan to her Park Avenue mansion for lunch and the opportunity to discuss, in depth, their exact route to the Lost City.
When the pair appeared empty-handed, carrying no maps or charts, Alexandra’s hands went to her broad hips. “Where are the maps?” she demanded. “I had hoped to lay them out on the dining table to study them.”
Padjan said calmly, smiling as he spoke, “The Lost City can be found on no map other than the one in my head.” Seeing her disappointment, he said, “Do not trouble yourself, Alexandra. I know the way and I will take you.”
“Oh, I just can’t wait to get there,” said Alexandra as they went in to lunch, Alexandra and Padjan leading the way, Ellen and Mister Corey following. “Tell me again what it will be like and how long I will need to drink of the Magic Waters before I become young again.”
Padjan chuckled, pointed a finger at her and said, “That, Alexandra, will depend on you.”
As she was anytime she was in Mister Corey’s presence, Ellen was extremely uncomfortable. She sat directly across from him and, while she made it a point not to look in his direction, she could feel his eyes examining her. When finally she could stand it no longer, she glanced at him.
He was staring unblinkingly at her, those obsidian eyes fixed on her. He wore a jet-black shirt and it suited him perfectly. Everything about him was dark. Dark strength. Dark sexuality. Dark heart.
Ellen felt a chill skip up her spine and she quickly looked away. She reached for her stemmed wineglass and drank thirstily. She had the awful feeling that, without making a sound, Mister Corey was laughing at her.
Damn the dark demon.
By the time the luncheon ended, Alexandra was in such a good mood, Ellen decided this was the right time to broach the subject of visiting Christopher.
As Padjan and her aunt continued to discuss travel plans, deciding on the day they would depart, Ellen waited for an opening. Finally she said, “Aunt Alexandra, since once we leave for the West we may be gone for months, I would like to go down and visit Christopher for a couple of days.”
Ellen held her breath. She badly wanted to see her son. But Alexandra could easily prevent her from making the trip.
To Ellen’s delight, Alexandra was perfectly agreeable. She said, “Why, yes, of course. Go see Chris. Have Mister Corey go with you.”
“Certainly not!” Ellen was quick to protest, casting an anxious look at him.
Ignoring Ellen, Alexandra turned to Mister Corey and said, “Ellen’s son, my great-nephew, is a cadet at the Citadel. You will accompany Ellen to South Carolina to visit him.”
Ellen was looking directly at Mister Corey. She caught a brief, puzzling flickering in his dark eyes and the minute tightening of his jaw before that familiar half smile touched his lips and he said, “Ellen’s a big girl. She can go alone.”
Six
Ellen was not pleased to learn that Mister Corey would be driving her to Grand Central Station.
It was, of course, Alexandra’s idea.
Ellen had not been consulted.
Ellen hadn’t found out until late Thursday afternoon when she hurried down the stone steps of the Park Avenue mansion. Before even glancing toward the carriage, she’d been distracted by a black Persian cat that was sitting on the bottom step. The beautiful cat belonged to the Winstons who lived across the street. Ellen would have given anything to own a cat, but Alexandra wouldn’t allow it. So Ellen contented herself with petting the Winstons’ Persian anytime she got the chance.
Smiling, she sank down onto her heels and rubbed the cat’s head. “How are you today, Prince,” she addressed the purring feline. “You come to say goodbye?” She remained as she was, stroking the cat and talking to him for several minutes before reluctantly rising to her feet.
It was then that she looked up and saw Mister Corey lounging against the parked carriage. Watching her, as if amused.
“What are you doing here?” she asked sharply as he took her valise.
“Driving you to Grand Central Station. What else?”
“What have you done with Jerome?” She looked around for the faithful old Landseer driver.
“We gave Jerome the day off,” said Mister Corey as he reached out, encircled her small waist and lifted her up onto the carriage seat.
Ellen exhaled with annoyance when Mister Corey slid onto the seat beside her and gave her a sly, sidelong glance. She knew then how he was going to behave. Or misbehave. She was tempted to jump down out of the carriage and hail a hired conveyance to drive her to the train depot.
Her apprehension escalated rapidly. The carriage wheels had hardly begun to turn on the pavement before Mister Corey was teasing and deviling her. She realized he arrogantly assumed that he could easily upset her, just as he had at the shipboard dance.
But he was wrong.
Now that she was back home and in familiar, comfortable surroundings, Ellen had regained her rigid composure. She could and did hold her own with her needling tormentor and, in fact, took secret pleasure in triumphantly putting him in his place.
Subtly, but directly, so that there was no misunderstanding, Ellen let Mister Corey know that she thought he was far beneath her in social status and class. She made it clear that she was of the upper echelon and did not associate with his kind.
Mister Corey seemed to take her disdain in stride. He smiled when he said, “You really think you’re better than me, Ellen?”
“Yes and don’t you ever doubt it!” she replied sarcastically.
And then took a great degree of satisfaction from seeing the distinct hardening of his tanned jaw. She wanted to laugh out loud. She had managed to penetrate that ever-present armor of indifference. Taking pleasure from her small victory, Ellen suddenly realized that she needn’t fear Mister Corey. He was human after all. Despite his impervious demeanor, he obviously had feelings that could be hurt, just as she did. That valuable bit of knowledge would work to her advantage. It was simple, really. All she had to do was to never let him forget that she felt nothing but contempt for him.
“Ah, but I do doubt that you’re any better than me,” he said, “and so do you.”
“Not for a minute, Mister ‘Carnival Barker’ Corey!” she replied cuttingly.
“There are worse ways of earning your daily bread.”
“I can’t think of any.”
“I can.”
Ellen gave him a smug look. “Pray tell, what could they possibly be?”
“Constantly kowtowing to a disagreeable old woman, for one.”
“You have no right to judge me.”
“Nor you me.”
The two continued to spar all the way to the train depot.
When the carriage finally reached busy Grand Central Station, Ellen felt a great sense of relief. While she was now confident that she could successfully put Mister Corey in his place, it was taxing and she was eager to get away from him.
As soon as he had helped her out of the carriage and retrieved her valise, Ellen said, “I can manage from here.”
“I’ll go inside with you,” he stated flatly.
Ellen made a face. “What about the carriage? You can’t just leave it