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“Have you received a tour of the grounds yet?” Vincent asked.
“Raphael showed me around some, but—” I halted, embarrassed.
“You’ve forgotten your way?” I nodded, and Vincent gave my arm a comforting squeeze. “This is a large estate, and it can take some time to find your bearings. Let me give you a more complete tour.”
Vincent’s tour was more in-depth than Raphael’s. Instead of gesturing to doors as we passed and explaining what lay behind, Vincent led me into each room and offered a brief history of interesting sights and items.
“Jacques picked up that ottoman in the U.K.,” he said, gesturing towards a faded purple footstool. “Mid 18th century, quite valuable.”
“It’s lovely,” I said politely, though I knew nothing about antiques. I was more interested in the man leading the tour. “How did you come to work for Mr. Martin?” I asked.
“I have known Jacques quite a long time, since we were little more than boys,” Vincent said. “My parents, they died when I was quite young.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I murmured, and Vincent nodded.
“I was a young man, and—how would you say—aimless. I took to travelling, looking for my place in the world, you understand?” I nodded, entranced, and Vincent continued. “I met Jacques and Bernard at that time, and we became quite close, though I was still a wanderer. Some years ago, Bernard called me and informed me that Jacques was in need of a complete household staff, and asked if I felt up to the job. Of course, I accepted, and now here I am.”
“Here you are,” I agreed. We continued on in silence for a few moments. “I lost my mother,” I said finally. “When I was 25. It was … very hard.”
“It is a difficult thing,” Vincent said. “But best not to be angry. All that has happened, all that I’ve experienced, it has brought me here, to my friends, and for that I am grateful.”
I was quiet for a moment, considering this. Losing my mother had been a devastating blow, and it had very nearly taken my father along with it. I couldn’t imagine facing a loss of that magnitude with the grace that Vincent demonstrated. He seemed a much stronger person than I, but I sensed that to tell him so would only make him uncomfortable. “It seems everyone here is very close,” I said instead.
Vincent nodded. “We are like brothers,” he said simply.
“You and Raphael have both known Jacques for much longer than you’ve worked for him, it seems,” I said. I was here to write an article, after all. I might as well start my research right away.
“We all have,” Vincent said. “With the exception of Alexandre, whom I met during my travels. The six of us are Jacques’ closest friends and confidantes.” He stopped walking and turned to me, his expression solemn. “If I may be candid, Isabel?”
“Please do,” I said.
“There is no use pretending you don’t know about the troubles Jacques went through five years ago. That is, after all, why you are here. Jacques called us to him when he was at his lowest point, and we have worked hard to support him and help him to heal, though there is only so much we can do. It is my hope that you—that speaking to you of what haunts him will help Jacques to leave his past behind him.”
I didn’t know what to say. I had known The Beast was troubled, but I wasn’t sure how my article was supposed to help him “heal,” as Vincent put it. I swallowed hard, suddenly anxious. “I hope that I can be of some help,” I said, “but I don’t want you to pin your hopes on me. I’m just a journalist.”
“Of course,” Vincent said smoothly. “But you have to understand, you are the first person from outside the castle Jacques has agreed to speak with in five years. That alone is a powerful step.”
“Well, I haven’t spoken with him yet,” I pointed out.
“Soon,” Vincent assured me. “He just needs a bit more time. Believe me, mademoiselle, it is good that you are here. For all of us.”
His eyes locked on mine, and my breath caught as I was nearly overcome by a powerful urge to step into his arms. Was it my imagination, or did his gaze flick down to my breasts, just for a moment?
Vincent took a step back, and the spell was broken. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “there are some matters I must attend to before dinner. Will you be all right here on your own?”
“Of course,” I said, “I think I’ve gotten the lay of the land now. Thank you for the tour.”
“It was my pleasure, Isabel,” Vincent said, and I felt a low flame of desire at the intensity of his dark gaze. “I look forward to seeing you at dinner.” With that, he was gone, leaving me dazed and slightly turned on.
