Even though I’d seen the Vaughn estate in the surveillance photographs that Fletcher had given me, I still peered out the window, as though I’d never seen the grounds or the house sitting in the middle of them before.
The mansion was impressive, even by Northtown standards. Six stories of stone towered into the air, old, solid, sturdy gray granite that had easily weathered the wear and tear of the years and would continue to do so for decades to come. The house had three separate wings, each sporting a variety of balconies and patios, while white trellises climbed from floor to floor, all with roses of different colors winding through them—red, white, pink, and even a pale green. The only shade that I didn’t see was the dark blue of the flowers that Sebastian had given me earlier.
“Well,” Sebastian said, grinning. “Home sweet home. What do you think of it?”
“It’s gorgeous.”
He squeezed my hand. “Just wait until you see the inside.” He leaned even closer to me. “Especially my bedroom.”
I knew that he was teasing me, but I couldn’t help the blush that crept up my cheeks. Kissing Sebastian was one thing. So were raging hormones and getting caught up in the moment. But I wasn’t going to be foolish enough to sleep with him—even though it was all that I could think about right now. His lips on mine, his warm skin flush with my own, his fingers slowly trailing down my body as he pulled me even closer . . .
I realized that Porter was staring at me in the rearview mirror, a flat, measured look on his freckled face as though I were an ant under a magnifying glass, one that he was thinking about burning with the lens. The soft smile slid from my lips, while the pleasant heat evaporated from my cheeks. A bucket of ice water couldn’t have been more effective.
Porter kept looking at me, his own expression cold and level. What was his problem? Was he pissed that Vaughn was dead and he was working for his son now? Or did he not like playing chauffeur? I didn’t know, but it made those whispered doubts rise up in my mind again.
“Come on,” Sebastian said. “Let me show you around.”
We got out of the car, which Porter then drove behind the house, probably to park it in the garage there. Sebastian threaded his fingers through mine and led me up the main steps and into the house.
The mansion was even more impressive on the inside than it was on the outside. High vaulted ceilings, crystal chandeliers, gleaming hardwood floors, marble staircases, exquisite antiques everywhere you looked. Everything was expensive, elegant, and polished to a high gloss, and the interior could have easily been featured in a magazine.
Still, something about the furnishings bothered me. Mainly because they didn’t match up with the rather spartan decor I’d seen in Vaughn’s office. In fact, the only thing that was similar was the thick Persian rugs that covered the floors.
“It’s lovely,” I said. “Everything is so fine.”
Sebastian beamed. “Do you like it? The staff just finished putting everything together this morning. I’ve been doing a little redecorating since my father . . . passed away. He was never much for comfort, but after my mother died, he didn’t want to add or change anything about the house. I think we’ve had the same curtains in every room for fifteen years now. But I wanted . . . a fresh start.”
I nodded. I knew all about fresh starts, so I could understand his sentiment, despite the guilt that it stirred in my chest.
We strolled from room to room and floor to floor, passing all sorts of staff. Housekeepers dusting knickknacks in the living rooms, cooks slicing vegetables in the kitchen areas, even a guy dressed in a formal tuxedo in one of the dining rooms, like he was some stuffy English butler out of a movie ready to serve a table full of guests tea, scones, and insults. Funny, but Vaughn hadn’t employed this many people. I supposed Sebastian had hired some extra folks to help with the funeral and all of the redecorating.
But they all bowed their heads when Sebastian passed, murmuring quiet, respectful hellos to “Mr. Vaughn.” It took me a while to get used to the idea that Sebastian was Mr. Vaughn now—and that I was the one who’d made it happen.
Sebastian chatted throughout the tour, pointing out interesting paintings, drawing my attention to the way the crystal chandeliers glistened overhead, and even talking about some of the masonry work his father had done on the staircases. Apparently, Vaughn had built the mansion when Sebastian was a boy.
“I loved helping my father with his work,” Sebastian said in a proud voice. “Even though all I could do back then was hand him his tools and watch him work his magic on the marble.”
Until now, the stone of the mansion had been pretty subdued, much like the housekeeping staff, but whispers sprang to life at Sebastian’s words, along with low, somber notes of sorrow. Stones couldn’t cry—not like people did—but the murmurs told me that the marble and granite were grieving in their own way for Vaughn, the man who had spent so much time crafting and taking care of them.
“Your father was a Stone elemental, right?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. “I remember hearing that on the news. Do you have the same sort of magic?”
Sebastian shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. I don’t have any magic. Charlotte has a bit of his Stone power, but she’s not as strong as he was.”
The murmurs in the marble took on a darker, harsher cadence, almost as if they didn’t like Sebastian’s words. I frowned, wondering what was troubling them so much. Obviously, they were greatly upset by Vaughn’s death, and the mourners and all of their feelings toward Vaughn were also sure to have left an impact. Perhaps the marble and granite were still trying to absorb all of those powerful emotions. Or could it be something else? I cocked my head to the side, listening to what the stones were trying to tell me—
“Is something wrong?” Sebastian asked. “You have a strange look on your face.”
The dark murmurs vanished. I listened a second longer, but all I heard now were those low, somber notes of grief. “Everything’s fine.”
Sebastian smiled. “All right, then. Let’s go upstairs . . .”
We continued with the tour, eventually winding up on the third floor.
“And now the library,” Sebastian said, throwing the double doors wide open.
The library was the biggest room we’d been in so far. Actually, it was two rooms, divided into equal-sized sections by a granite fireplace that stood in the middle. A grate on either side of the fireplace let heat flow into both areas, while two archways, one at the front of the library and one at the back, led to the next room over. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with books covered the other walls in the left section, while a series of chairs and couches with thick cushions were scattered around the room.