Abby done her studying here? Kyle wondered. Or was this all for show? “Quite impressive.”
“The Maitlands all like to read, sir. Some of the books here are over two hundred years old,” Harold told him. “About the refreshments?” A gray brow rose.
Kyle shook his head, still looking around. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
Harold remained standing where he was. “It might be a while, sir.”
Kyle looked at the man, feeling as if he had been given a subtle hint. “In that case, make it a scotch. Neat.”
A small smile played along the very thin lips. “We’re never messy here, sir.” With that, Harold turned and discreetly faded, more than walked, from the room. He closed the doors behind him.
Was that for privacy, or to seal him in? Kyle had a feeling it was the latter.
Over the years Kyle had found that the kind of books people kept on their shelves gave him useful insight into the people themselves. So, with nothing else to do, he began reading the lettering along the leather spines.
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