being drawn to him. The man’s charismatic good looks had made her catch her breath as soon as she’d seen him up close. Acting purely on instinct, she had decided to stay and find out who he was...
‘Yes...it was. You heard right.’
‘And you knew them? I mean, you knew them when they lived here?’
‘Why do you want to know? I presumed it was the house that you were interested in.’
‘I am, but it’s the people who make a house into a home...no matter how grand or intimidating it might be.’
Seth’s brow furrowed. ‘You think this place is intimidating?’
The girl reddened. ‘Yes, I do, but only because it’s so far removed from my own life. I can’t envisage what it must have been like for anyone who lived here and could afford to run a place like this.’
‘Having great wealth isn’t all roses, you know. It doesn’t change who you are fundamentally, be it bad or good. Look...this is all rather pointless. I don’t think I can help you after all. If there’s anything else you want to know, then I suggest you do some research at the local records office.’
‘The information I’d like to find out is more of a personal nature, Mr Broden. I’d be so grateful if you could help.’
‘I’m sure you would... But if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that the answers to life’s questions don’t always reveal themselves so easily, Miss Hayes.’
Guilt combined with an uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment washed over Imogen. She wondered if she’d come across as being insensitive. ‘I know that, but... Can you perhaps tell me why the family moved away?’
‘You could say that fate stepped in and took them down a very different path from the one they expected...’
Seth Broden’s voice was huskily pitched and his gaze held hers unflinchingly. It was becoming very evident that he was in no hurry to reveal what he knew about the Siddons family, and Imogen quickly intuited that she’d have to tread carefully if she wanted to learn the truth about the note in her book.
‘That holds true for a lot of us, I’m sure. The dreams we have don’t always come to fruition.’
‘I take it that’s been your own experience, Miss Hayes?’
His comment took her aback. But she wasn’t ready to share the events of her life that had taken her down an ‘unexpected path’ with a complete stranger—no matter how much his seductively handsome face and glittering blue eyes might compel her to. She should know by now the dire consequences of trusting people too easily, and if she didn’t, she really was in trouble...
‘Like most people, my life hasn’t always gone smoothly.’
There was a flash of what looked to be empathy in Seth Broden’s eyes. Folding his arms across his impeccable wool coat, he sighed. ‘But you’re young enough not to become cynical about the cards you’ve been dealt and you can move on. At least you have that in your favour.’
Surprised by the remark, Imogen shrugged. For a long moment it was hard to duck the beguiling blue gaze that suggested he would have no trouble in persuading any woman to share her innermost secrets. Just who was this man? If it was true that he owned the mansion, he had to be someone important. There was an air of exclusivity about him that said if a situation called for it he would be the one taking charge.
If only she’d thought a bit longer about giving in to her impulse to look at the house. But after talking to the assistant at the charity shop she hadn’t been able to resist. Having viewed it, she’d found the imposing and beautiful facade had piqued her curiosity even more.
‘I’m sure you’re right. Trouble is that’s harder to do than you might imagine...’
‘Then, my advice to you, Imogen, is to focus on the things that you can do and not worry about the rest. Now, are you going to tell me the true reason for your visit, because I sense that researching the family who lived here isn’t the real reason why you’re here.’
Seth Broden had stopped Imogen in her tracks on two counts. First by so familiarly using her name, and second by instinctively seeming to know that the reason for her interest in the Siddonses’ family history was specific.
She realised she’d become more than a little possessive about the note, and didn’t easily want to relinquish it. That was, not until she found out who its author was. She was uneasy. She realised she would have to tell him about it, even if it meant he demanded she return it.
‘The other day I bought something from a local charity shop,’ she began. ‘I was told it had come from here. They’d taken delivery of a box of books from the house.’
Not commenting, Seth walked across to the window next to the door with a distinctly unhurried gait and stared out. What was he thinking about? He was still not saying anything, and his closed-off demeanour hardly suggested he was eager to break the silence.
The formidable quiet that ensued started to worry her. She was just about to ask if anything was the matter when he suddenly snapped out, ‘So you found a book...? Care to tell me the title?’
With a helpless shiver Imogen hugged her arms over her coat. ‘It’s a book of love poems by William Blake.’
‘Is it, indeed? You admire his work, do you?’
When Seth turned to face her she was mesmerised. The carved contours of his face might have been fashioned out of marble, they were so still. There was no expression in them whatsoever...none. And yet the burning blue of his eyes was fierce...
‘Yes, I do...very much.’
‘I once knew someone else who was fond of his poetry.’
The admission came out of the blue, and stunned Imogen because she hadn’t expected it.
‘Was it someone who lived at the house?’ The question was out before she could check it.
‘It might have been. Wasn’t the owner’s name in the book?’
‘No, it wasn’t. There was only—’
The man in front of her raised a dark eyebrow interestedly. ‘You were going to say, Miss Hayes...?’
Fearing she’d said too much too soon, Imogen parried the question with another one of her own. ‘Was the person who enjoyed Blake’s poetry a woman?’
‘You didn’t answer my question.’
Her companion’s lightly lined forehead warningly grew tighter, and it was easy to sense the shield that had slammed down into place. But no shield—however strong and impenetrable—could hide the truth. It was right at that instant when Imogen remembered the initials that had signed off the note—SB.
The person who’d written in such beguiling and heartfelt tones was Seth Broden himself...
SETH IMMEDIATELY SAW what he took to be dawning realisation on Imogen’s face. He didn’t know why, but his heart started to pound.
‘Do you have the book with you? I’d like to take a look if you have,’ he said.
The sigh that escaped her was no more than a whisper but he heard it easily. The melting brown eyes before him were fused to his for the longest moment, and he wondered the reason behind it. Then, delving down into her shoulder bag, she produced a compact yellow book without a jacket. Flicking through the pages, she carefully extracted a piece of paper. Not knowing why, he caught his breath.
Crossing the floor, she handed him the note.
‘What’s this?’
‘It was inside the book when I bought it.’
Seth’s