Page 26 of Book People

‘Well,’ I say brightly, because he’s starting to look like he should be haunting the battlements of some castle somewhere, given the amount of brood pouring off him. ‘I’ll ask her if she’ll come as a favour.’

‘Oh? Is she that much of a good friend that she’ll come to this tiny village festival for absolutely zero payment?’

‘Take it down a notch, Hamlet. It’s not that bad. Maybe we can think of other things that would make her come here. Writers like inspiration and Wychtree’s got a lot of character, a lot of history.’

Sebastian stares at me a second then leans forward, his gaze pinning me. ‘What’s she like?’

I’m taken aback by his sudden intensity and I’m aware my heart is beating a little too fast for comfort. I try to ignore it. ‘You mean as a person?’

‘Yes.’

‘I know shedoeslike history and she’s an incurable romantic. I think she’d like Wychtree quite a bit if she came.’

Sebastian is still staring at me, but I have the feeling that this time he’s not seeing me. Whatever is going on in his beautiful head, I can virtually see his brain ticking over.

‘You have an idea?’ I ask him.

‘I do. But I’m not sure if it’ll be enough to tempt her.’

‘What is it?’ I realise only belatedly that I have leaned in too, my elbows on the table top.

‘I readColours,’ he says. ‘She wrote it after finding a bunch of old letters in an antique shop. Love letters.’

‘Yes, that’s right. She had to get them translated because they were all in French. Hence her setting it in Paris.’

He nods. ‘I have a box of letters in the attic of the shop. They’re my great-grandfather’s. I wonder if there might be something in there that might be used to . . .’

‘Encourage her?’ I finish.

His gaze glitters and I catch a hint of his aftershave. Warm spice and something else I can’t identify, something musky and male and utterly delicious.

Oh dear. This is bad. This is very bad.

‘I’ll need to go through them,’ he says. ‘I don’t think anyone’s looked at them since he died, so there might not be anything useful. But . . .’ He pauses again. ‘There were rumours that he was having an affair with someone.’

Well, this is fascinating.

I lean in closer, drawn by the glitter in his eyes. He’s not grumpy now and he’s not glowering. He’s intense and as interested in this as I am.

‘An affair? With whom?’

‘It was only a rumour. No one knows for sure.’

‘But you think there might be . . . what? Letters or something?’

‘Could be. Nothing’s certain. After he died, my grandfather refused to talk about him. I tried asking him what he was like a couple of times, but he wouldn’t say a word. Dad wouldn’t either, I don’t know why.’

Wow. I’m even more intrigued. There’s nothing like rumours of a forbidden romance and a hint at a tragic, possibly dark past.

Like his, really. Losing his mother so young. And now he’s got hints of family secrets . . .

Steady, Kate. Steady.

‘Was he horrible?’ I sound almost breathless. ‘Did he do something awful?’

Sebastian shakes his head. ‘No. At least not as far as I know. Village gossip doesn’t indicate he was a terrible person. I asked a couple of people, actually, who might have known him when they were kids, and they said he was just a quiet bookseller. Kept to himself. Then again, those are recollections of kids. All the adults who might have known him have passed on now.’

‘What about your dad?’ I ask. ‘Does he really not know anything?’

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