Page 36 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
“Not just that. Perhaps I’ve never seen him expressanyraw emotion with such conviction… Well, there was one time. Anyway, you’ve certainly stirred him.” He gestured, urging her to move toward the open doors of the study. “May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”
She smiled, her previous excitement restored as she walked past the doorframe. “It’s Violet. Violet Ainsworth. I’m actually a huge fan of your writing.”
“Ainsworth, you say? You have deep roots here in this village.”
“I’ve just started reading up on that, actually.”
“Remarkable. So, you mentioned that you enjoy my books?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she said, sliding her coat off her shoulders. She went to lay it aside, but Ambrose approached, offering to take it along with his. He went back out and into the hallway, likely hanging them on the rack before reappearing. “I’ve read all of your books,” Violet went on. “Your writing is so vivid and expressive. It makes me feel like I’m seeing the world through your words—like a movie in my mind. And your characters are always rich and layered, too. The women are so fun to read.”
Ambrose sat in the armchair near the sofa, folding one long leg and resting his ankle on his knee as he settled. “Well, Violet, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you. You must forgive me though, as I am quite caught off-guard by this present circumstance. I’m not exactly sure how to proceed. May I ask how you know our dear Jasper?”
That was a weird thing to say… “We grew up together. Well, partially. We were very close when we were young. I recently moved back home, so I’m trying to help him out since he can’t leave the house,” she explained. Although, he could leave sometimes, apparently. To scold her.
Ambrose folded his large hands in the gap of his legs, threading his fingers as he examined her with dark eyes and a beautiful smile. If he ever grew tired of writing, he could easily be an actor or some type of model. “Hm, ‘very close,’” he repeated. “Would you say you were his best friend as a child?”
“Ah, yes? I would say that—at least, that’s my perspective. If you askedhimright now though, he might disagree, and then throw me out.”
At this, Ambrose laughed, a little huff that made his shoulders jump. “Incredible… Well, it seems that I am sitting in the presence of an integral wellspring of my own achievement. I thank you, Violet Ainsworth. I am truly honored to meet you.”
“Um, sure. You too?” Violet frowned. She liked Ambrose Marcello, a lot. But she was starting to get an odd feeling about him.Maybe he really is a weirdo like Rosie says…
She realized her eyebrow was cocked in suspicion when Jasper came into the room with a tray. She fixed her face, but it was too late. Ambrose laughed again. “Jasper, your lovely friend thinks I’m strange.”
“Aren’t we all a little strange?” he asked, setting the tray on the coffee table and distinctly avoiding looking up and into Violet’s face. “I only have Earl Grey, but there’s cream and sugar.”
“If you need chamomile, I’ll bring it next time,” Violet offered without thinking. She’d been responsible for his food supply for a month now, and it was becoming second nature. But he stood straight and turned, walking toward his desk.
“You don’t need to do that.”
Violet rolled her eyes.
Ambrose unfolded his leg and bent toward the table to pour his tea. “Violet tells me you’ve known each other since you were children?”
“Yes,” Jasper said, his arms folded as he leaned back in his desk chair.
“Hm. You once told me a beautiful story about a very precious childhood friend, and that she is the—”
“René,stop.” Jasper abruptly sat upright, his gray eyes wide as he looked at Ambrose, then over at Violet. Slowly, he relaxed his shoulders. “Please…pleasedon’t do that.”
“René?” Violet blinked, looking between the two men with her teacup paused at chin-level. “Who is René? Aren’t you Ambrose Marcello?”
Quiet. Now they were all awkwardly flickering their eyes back and forth: Jasper at Ambrose-René and Violet, then Ambrose-René between Jasper and Violet. She felt as if she were in an intense mystery movie scene where one of them was definitely the murderer.
“My dear Jasper, I think it may be best to reveal the truth to your beautiful friend? She is obviously sharp. Attempting to deceive her will only elongate the present awkwardness of this impromptu meeting?”
Jasper fell back into his chair, groaning as he slid his palms over his face, then up into the floppy mess of his dark hair. Ambrose watched him with hawk eyes, bringing his teacup to his mouth. “I haven’t known her for very long, but I am almost certain that we can trust her?”
“It’s not about trust—”
“Isn’t it?” Ambrose raised his eyebrow. “I believe all complex human relationships are driven by trust. It is the foundation of our every interaction.”
“Would you please stop that.” Jasper moaned, laying his head back.
Violet considered, suddenly seeing the situation from a new perspective. “Wait. Are… are you two involved?”
There was a slight pause. Jasper lifted his head and looked at her contemptuously, but Ambrose smiled. “Aren’t we?” he said, then turned toward Jasper with a smirk. “Involved.”
