God nor man.”
Rather than take offense, Sebastian laughed aloud. “He isn’t wrong, exactly. Surely there are some laws you care to flout?”
Ves’s entire body warmed. He focused on the taps behind the bar, rather than Sebastian’s face. “What does this have to do with why those men were chasing you?”
“Ah. Yes.” Sebastian’s hazel eyes shaded toward gray as he frowned. “Indulge me in a bit of history, if you will. My family have been the binders and conservators for the Ladysmith library since the Civil War. First my great-uncle, then my mother. She expected me to follow in her footsteps, since I’d wanted to work in the library from childhood on. I chose not to.”
The statement was simple, but from the regret in Sebastian’s voice, Ves suspected it papered over a chasm of pain.
He trained his gaze on his beer, to avoid Sebastian’s gaze. “I did something similar. My family had my entire life planned out for me from the moment I was born. Even though I never wanted it, I still sometimes feel as though I let them down.”
“Perhaps you understand, then.” Sebastian spread his hands ruefully. “I tried, but I never had the talent. Or, to be honest, the interest. I’m perfectly happy combing through dusty old records, peering at some dead man’s terrible handwriting in an attempt to assess a document’s importance. But ask me to discuss proper margin width and I’m bored to tears.”
Ves drew himself up in shock. “But maintaining the correct margin width for the text is of utmost importance, especially in rebinding! I know some binders commit the atrocity of bleeding pages willy-nilly, so as to have paper scrap to sell, but you will never catch me doing so.”
“Er, yes,” Sebastian said, seeming a bit taken aback. “I must say, I didn’t realize you had so much hidden passion.”
Heat crept into Ves’s cheeks, and he hastily drank some more of his beer. “Forgive me.”
“Not at all. It’s good to see a man so invested in his work.” Sebastian lifted his own glass in a salute. “When Mother realized I was devoting myself to archival studies and no words of hers would dissuade me, she found someone far more motivated than I to join her in the bindery. Kelly O’Neil.”
Unease touched Ves, like a cold breath on his neck. “The man you said disappeared. The one who resigned abruptly without asking for references for his next position.”
Sebastian nodded. All the humor was gone from his expression now. “Indeed. He took over when my mother died. It seemed odd that he left, let alone mailed his resignation to Mr. Quinn rather than facing the head librarian himself.”
Having met Mr. Quinn, Ves was less certain of that. He seemed the type to view finding a new job as an abandonment rather than a natural progression.
Ves listened attentively while Sebastian outlined his own quest to find out what had become of O’Neil. His first reaction was that the archivist was simply letting his own emotions cloud his judgment. Mrs. Rath had trained Mr. O’Neil when Sebastian refused to become a binder; surely it was his own guilt over not obeying the dead woman’s wishes that had caused him such distress when O’Neil left. But Ves’s unease grew stronger as Sebastian told him of the strange midnight removal of furniture, then of the two men who had followed him today.
“You’re certain they followed you from the apartment?” Ves asked.
Sebastian hesitated. “They got on at the trolley stop there, at least. And they changed trolleys with me, then tried to chase me down. I suppose they might have been thieves, but look at me—surely I’m not that tempting a target.”
Tempting was definitely a word Ves didn’t want to consciously associate with Sebastian. His lips were damp from the beer, and a bit of foam clung to the corner of his mouth.
Ves’s trousers felt suddenly tight, and he tore his gaze away from Sebastian’s mouth. “I, er, that is, no.” His face felt on fire, and he took another swig from the beer, draining it. “You weren’t carrying anything, and you hardly look the sort to have a diamond-crusted pocket watch,” he added after he’d swallowed. There, that surely had covered his lapse.
A small smile played briefly over Sebastian’s mouth, there and gone. “Exactly. They would have been poor thieves indeed to have followed me halfway across town for nothing more than a plain watch and a few coins. I think someone found out I was asking questions, and they