But the gentleman who turned from his contemplation of the flickering flames within the marble fireplace was not the handsome Viscount. “Good morning, Brown-eyes,” Vincent said casually. The shock of seeing him turned Antiqua to stone. Her mouth gaped half-open and the heat of a guilty flush rushed up her neck. Vincent tilted his head slightly and scrutinized her with narrowed eyes, running his gaze over the empyrean length of her ruffled round gown and stopping at last upon her face. She blushed harder. “Cat got your tongue?” he prompted in a provokingly cool voice. She rose instantly to the bait. “It’s merely that I’ve nothing whatever to say to you.” “No? How odd. I was quite certain there was a great deal you wished to say to me last night.” “The only thing I wish to say to you, sir, is good day.” She spun on her heel to leave. One step brought him between her and the door. His shadow enveloped her. She bent her head, looking down at the floor as her heart knocked almost painfully against her ribs.
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