However, he had refused to let the rejection crush him. So he was a nobody, was he? Squaring his already broad shoulders, he hadn’t been able to contain his temper. Swearing that he would show James Siddons what a fool he was for believing that he was somehow better than Seth—just because he had gone to the right schools and his family had money—he had finally vented his spleen.
There would come a time soon when he would surpass James Siddons’s wealth and power with his own, he’d vehemently told him, and Louisa would never have so much as one moment’s worry about how they would survive.
But at the end of that cold encounter the supercilious banker had banned her from seeing him again, told him he would put a watch on her to make sure she kept to the command he’d declared, and he had threatened Seth with what he would be able to do if he should dare have the effrontery to try to persuade her differently.
‘There won’t be one dealership in the country that will hire you after what I tell them,’ he’d finished.
With tears pouring down her face, Louisa had been able to do nothing else but urge Seth to go...
He sucked in a harsh breath and slowly released it. Why had he bought this place and opened up old wounds that should have long ago healed and scarred? He had nothing left to prove.
James Siddons had been dead for about a year now and—to his everlasting distress—Louisa had died not long after that volatile meeting with her father, having been mown down by a hit-and-run driver. It had been the most colossal shock, and Seth had honestly thought he would never get over it.
When the mansion had come on to the market not long after its owner’s demise, six months ago, Seth hadn’t been able to resist buying it. How could he have? It was the place where Louisa had grown up. He had an important personal connection with the place. Despite the house’s dauntingly grand appearance, she’d confided to him that it had once been a very warm and loving home, thanks to her mother, Clare Siddons.
‘My mother was a wonderful woman. She was infinitely patient and kind, and she always told me to follow my heart...not just my head,’ Louisa had told Seth. ‘She certainly wouldn’t have looked down her nose at you because you come from the “wrong” background. She would only have had to look at you to know why you have my heart.’ Her pansy-blue eyes had sparkled tenderly as she’d related that.
Now the atmospheric house she’d grown up in couldn’t help but carry the beguiling remnants of her presence. Although his decision to buy it was no doubt a double-edged sword—one that could just as soon wound him as satisfy his urge to show the local community that he was just as good as his nemesis James Siddons. Seth wondered if he’d been led purely by his ego to buy it.
Ten long years had passed since Louisa’s death—wilderness years in which Seth had distanced himself as far from his hometown as he could 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 unexpect
ed 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 heard from someone local that the previous owner’s family was called Siddons?’
The heavy thud of her heart was close to painful when she saw a guarded glint of steel invade his eyes, but she still couldn’t help 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...
Copyright © 2016 by Maggie Cox
ISBN-13: 9781488000713
The Secret That Shocked De Santis
Copyright © 2016 by Natalie Anderson
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