in order to rebuild his life without her—and he’d achieved everything he’d set out to do. He ought to let the past lie.
Yes, there had been other women after he’d lost Louisa, but throughout all the time that had passed he had never loved anyone else and most likely never would. Buying the house had probably been a completely dumb idea. Talk about rubbing salt into his wounds!
Cursing himself as a masochist, then feeling certain he could always sell it if things didn’t work out, he shoved to his feet and turned to go into the drawing room. It was now completely devoid of the once grand furniture that had filled it.
Louisa had once shown him the room when her father had been away on business. But by the time Seth had come to buy the place all that had been left were a few old books and some kitchen items. Everything else had been removed by the lawyers acting for her father—sold off to pay death duties.
As painfully ironic as it was, it turned out that James Siddons had not been nearly as wealthy as he’d claimed. Apparently he’d squandered his wealth on gambling and living the high life after Louisa had died.
Now the palatial room in front of him put him in mind of a ball that was at an end, with the well-heeled partygoers never to return. The only material items left in the lofty room were the faded red-and-gold carpets and the crimson velvet curtains that hung at the windows.
The day he’d accompanied Louisa in order to ask her father’s permission to marry her he hadn’t travelled any further than the imposing hallway. As Seth had anticipated James Siddons had hardly rolled out the welcome mat... Far from it. Instead, he’d straight away gone into attack.
He smiled grimly. Perversely, Seth was the one who had the last laugh. Now he had the satisfaction of knowing he was free to do what the hell he liked here. Never again would he be accused of not being ‘good enough’ by someone who had been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, who hadn’t had to rely solely on his own ability and wits to rise higher in the world, to make it against all the odds as Seth had. He was the one who owned the house now.
In the midst of his reverie a sudden inexplicable instinct drew him to the windows. He caught his breath when his eyes settled on the figure of a young woman in the fading light. She was peering through the wrought iron gates. He froze for a moment, thinking she was a ghost. When common sense swiftly returned he wondered irritably, just who did she think she was spying on the house?
Not thinking twice about finding out, Seth strode from the drawing room and went straight to the front door. Opening it wide, he took the carved granite steps two at a time, his boot heels crunching across the gravel. The woman had started to back away, but he halted her with the demand, ‘Who are you and what do you want here?’
His visitor’s startled brown eyes showed her shock and surprise. Just then her curling chestnut hair was blown wildly across her face by a rogue gust of wind, and her slender fingers visibly trembled as she pushed the strands away. For a mesmerising, unguarded moment Seth was transfixed by the delicacy and haunting loveliness of the features in front of him—so much so that it threw him off-kilter for a moment.
‘Well?’ When he next spoke—having decided not to be so easily beguiled by the woman, and realising she was probably just one of the bevy of journalists that tracked his career, looking for a story—his voice was terse.
‘I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to bother you.’
Her voice was soft as summer rain and added to the sense that she was casting a spell on him.
Seth sucked in a breath. ‘But you are bothering me. Answer my question. What’s your business here?’
For a couple of seconds the woman didn’t seem to know. Then she said hesitatingly, ‘I— Are you the house’s owner?’
‘What’s it to you? Why do you want to know?’
‘I’ll tell you...but if you are the owner I wonder if I might have a word?’
Seth’s cobalt blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘What about?’
‘About the history of the house... My name is Imogen, by the way... Imogen Hayes.’
‘And you want to know because...? Let me guess—you’re fascinated by old historic houses and you intend to study this one for a school project?’
Underneath her pale skin the girl blanched. ‘I’m hardly a schoolgirl. I’m twenty-four!’
‘Who are you, then? Someone from the local newspaper?’ he quizzed.
She grimaced. ‘No. Look, if you are the new owner, could you perhaps spare me a couple of minutes? I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.’
Even as everything inside him told him it was a bad idea—the girl probably was from the local newspaper, hoping to write an article about him along the lines of ‘poor boy made good’—he took longer than he meant to in deciding what to do.
Having made his fortune in America, and returned home a billionaire, Seth knew that his name couldn’t help but arouse local interest. This girl probably wouldn’t be the only interested party. But because he couldn’t help admiring her pretty face, and the unexpected spark of attraction it had aroused in him, he decided to relent and let her in. What had he got to lose? If the piece turned out to be defamatory he wouldn’t hesitate to sue the newspaper.
‘You’d better follow me inside.’
He pulled opened the iron gates, and the grating sound they released set his teeth on edge.
The brunette quickly edged past him. ‘Thank you. That’s very good of you.’
‘Are you sure? Goodness isn’t something I’m generally known for,’ he quipped drily.
A corner of what he could see was a pleasingly pretty mouth nudged in an unsure dimple before she glanced away and followed him across the gravel.
When they reached the front door a blast of cold air along with a couple of dried, burnished leaves flew in from the driveway to accompany them.
Seth frowned as he closed the door behind them. Answering her questions wouldn’t take long, he was sure. In truth he knew very little about the house’s history other than that it had been in Louisa’s family for generations. So why on earth had he broken his own rule to be wary and instead invited the woman inside? Was it really because it had been too long since he’d been genuinely attracted to a woman and he’d found the opportunity too good to miss?
‘I would suggest we talk in the living room, but as yet there isn’t any furniture. I’m only here to look round today. You were lucky to find me in.’
‘But you are the new owner?’ The girl’s even white teeth nervously clamped down on her fulsome lower lip.
‘Yes, I am. Don’t worry...I haven’t invited you in under false pretences.’ Combing his tawny hair back with his fingers, Seth made a half-hearted attempt at a smile. A sense of bitterness had seeped into his tone. The memory of James Siddons not thinking him good enough to cross his threshold, let alone marry his daughter, still had the power to sting even after all these years...
‘I wouldn’t dream of thinking anything like that. Perhaps you could tell me who you are?’
‘My name is Seth Broden. What else do you want to ask me, Miss Hayes?’
Curling a strand of lightly waving rich brown hair round her ear, Imogen didn’t hide her relief that he wasn’t going to change his mind and tell her he’d made a mistake—that he didn’t have time for her questions after all.
Whether by luck or design, her spontaneous evening stroll had skirted the imposing manor house, and when she’d spied its impressive turrets reaching up into the sky she hadn’t been able to deny herself the impulse to take a closer look. At the back of her mind she’d been hoping for just such an opportunity, and that was why she carried the book with the note inside with her.
‘I