Page 19 of Hooked

“No, I mean here, inside the house. He keeps showing up, totally still, acting like a statue. It’s quite funny, actually.”

Beatrice looked at me, obviously confused. “I haven’t seen him do anything like that.”

“No one else noticed?” I asked, looking from Beatrice to Marilee and then Emeline.

Emeline just shook her head with a small smile.

“Perhaps Falstone is trying to entertain himself,” Marilee suggested as she passed a morsel of food to Rogue who lay quietly at her feet. “After all, this quiet country life is much duller than we’re all used to.”

“Are you saying you are bored, Highness?” I teased.

She laughed, the sound dancing through the air. “Not in the least. I have a new husband who makes life interesting.”

I let the subject drop but continued to think on it. Had today been a strange fluke? Falstone being silly just this once, and on the morrow, he would be back to his vigilant, too-knowing self?

I certainly hoped not.

6

I entered the library in search of a certain book that Marilee had asked me about—though it was difficult for me to truly think of this room as a library when I compared it to the library of the Dalthian palace. I’d only had occasion to visit that glorious room twice during my stay, but even the memory of it left me in awe. Sutton Manor’s library was really more of a study. Cozy with a few chairs, but only one window. Fortunately, there was a set of doors that led out onto the veranda, which gave the room plenty of light when the weather allowed them to be open.

As I looked over the titles, I noticed the layer of dust that coated many of them and wondered if I should mention it to the upstairs maid. No. Best not to upset the staff by critiquing their work.

In my efforts to find the book Marilee had asked for, I ended up distracted by all the other volumes I encountered. I wondered if I would have had occasion to read any of them if my life had turned out differently. If my father hadn’t sought to usurp the duke, if I hadn’t left my upbringing behind to go into service, would I have turned into an avid book reader like Princess Ariella? Would I have discovered a talent for painting like Princess Lorraina or fallen in love with dancing as Marilee had?

It didn’t really matter, I supposed.

The sound of music suddenly started up behind me. My heart jumped and I whirled around to discover Falstone draped in one of the cozy chairs, a small wooden flute at his mouth.

How had he gotten there without me hearing his entrance? Had I been that distracted? Or was he simply so adept at moving about stealthily that he’d been utterly quiet?

I studied him in startled confusion as my heart recovered from the small scare. “What are you doing in here?” I asked.

The sound paused as he grinned and answered. “I’m playing a song for you. I would have thought that was obvious.” He brought the instrument back to his mouth.

I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes, utterly bewildered. “I have never known anyone so changeable.”

He raised his eyebrows at me to acknowledge my comment but continued playing.

I could have turned my back on him and resumed my search. Instead I crossed the room and sat on the table in front of the chair he occupied. If he was going to sit here and perform, then he would have to accept me as his rapt audience.

It was obvious that Falstone was comfortable with the instrument. He might have been playing a popular tune, but I had the feeling that it was a melody of his own, perhaps one he was making up as he went.

His hair was thick, light brown with even lighter streaks running through it. He had deep-set eyes shadowed by thick brows. His eyes were closed now, but I knew they were dark. Brown perhaps, or maybe tending toward gray.

His song suddenly stopped and he looked right at me. They were brown. His eyes were deep brown at the center and lighter toward the edges.

I dropped my gaze, suddenly intimidated by this chameleon.

“You study me,” he said. “Why?”

As if I am the one being strange right now. I looked back up at him, lifting my chin so I could feign confidence. “Why are you serenading me in a library?”

“Can’t a friend play a tune without their motives being questioned?” His look of innocence didn’t fool me.

“You question everyone’s motives.”

“True.”