‘The note?’ she reminded him gently.
Finding himself reacquainted with the letter he’d written to Louisa all those years ago and learning that she’d read it before she died must have been responsible for lowering his defences. He would never normally make himself so vulnerable. Undoubtedly the generous glass of brandy he’d drunk had helped...
CHAPTER THREE
GRAVEL VOICED, SETH COMMENTED, ‘It’s not every day that your past comes back to haunt you like that.’
Imogen frowned. ‘Would you like to keep the note? After all, it really belongs to you.’
He recalled that he’d automatically shoved it down into his coat pocket. ‘I’d better hold on to it. I wouldn’t want to risk it falling into the wrong hands.’
The brunette’s flawless brow crumpled. ‘I admit I’d hoped that I could keep it...’ Hugging her arms over her chest, she was lost in thought for a moment. ‘It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever read. The words struck a chord. They gave me hope.’
‘What I felt for Louisa wasn’t romantic. It was just true. I didn’t want to own her, as though she was some possession. I wanted the very best for her, whatever that was.’
Swallowing down the lump that rose inside his throat, Seth sighed.
‘People think that I’ve mourned her for too long—that missing her is wasted time. Many times I’ve been told I should move on, find someone else to love. I won’t deny that at times I’ve been tempted. There’s been no shortage of takers, wanting me to commit, but so far I haven’t been able to do it. Maybe I just loved her too much.’
Shaking his head, he found himself staring at the woman who had given him shelter the night before.
‘What did you mean when you said the letter gave you hope?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘But it does. You know my story... Will you tell me yours? Why do you need hope, Imogen?’
‘If you think it might help me to talk about things then you’re wrong. I’m trying to put what happened behind me and move on. I don’t want it to ruin the rest of my life.’
Her expression was peeved, her brown eyes defiant. Seth didn’t know why, but he was intrigued. He realised that discussing feelings with a woman might potentially be like walking on broken glass. Whatever angle you came from, it was a delicate issue.
Tunnelling his fingers through his hair, he realised that he really wanted to engage her—to get her to like him, even.
‘I don’t profess to know whether it might help you to talk about things or not—all I’m saying is that if you do decide to I’m willing to listen. What you tell me won’t go any further than these four walls... I give you my word.’
Mulling over his remarks, she turned still for a moment. ‘And why would you be interested in what happened to me? I’m nothing to you. I’m just some woman who wandered up to your house in the hope that I might find out who wrote the letter I found.’
Seth couldn’t help smiling. Did she really not know how attractive she was? The longer he spent in her company, the more he sensed himself becoming attracted to her. He knew that most women wouldn’t hesitate to use their physical attributes to their advantage if a man was wealthy or attractive, and he wasn’t being falsely modest in realising that he was both. The fact that Imogen hadn’t made a play for him piqued his interest even more.
‘Clearly you’re not just “some woman”, Imogen. I already sense that you think deeply about things. A lot of men would find that quality very attractive...beguiling, even.’
The unexpected sizzle of desire that suddenly seized him caught him off guard, making him feel distinctly off centre for a minute. Studying her, he saw that even though her dark brown eyes shimmered briefly when she glanced back at him, it was clear Imogen wasn’t troubled by the same disconcerting sensations.
Impatient, she moved towards the kitchen. But even as her hand curved round the brass doorknob, she suddenly paused. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you my story. I owe you that much, since you trusted me with yours. But I’m surprised that you’re not in a hurry to go home.’
‘I don’t have a place here—not unless you count the mansion. For the past ten years I’ve been living in the States. At the moment home is a hotel suite. Elegant as it is, I’m in no hurry to go back there.’