As for Larissa, he would have to take full advantage of her attraction to him, to get around her present dislike. And perhaps use her sympathy to his advantage as well. Actually, he decided that anything would be permissible in this seduction. He would be absolutely ruthless about it if he had to be. For once, having a lack of emotion and conscience was going to be quite beneficial.

He took the seat across from her and gave a nod to the waiting servants to begin the meal. It wasn’t until the first course was over that she noticed that he was staring at her in a sensual manner. Her blush was immediate when she did notice. He did not stop.

Vincent had been told on numerous occasions, in numerous ways, that his eyes revealed his emotions. Which was quite amusing to him since these occasions were usually during sexual interludes and his passions were tepid at best. It was the color of his eyes that gave the impression, he supposed, of more desire than was actually present. Amber jewels, molten gold, devilishly wicked, sexy, he’d heard it all and discounted it all. His eyes were merely a very light shade of brown with a few gold flecks, nothing extraordinary, in his opinion. Of course, living with them for twenty-nine years made them quite ordinary to him.

But if Larissa imagined heated desire in them when he was only admiring her beauty over the entrée, well, that was to his good. He would much prefer to not have to spell it out, this seduction, if she was too dense to realize he was seducing her. And it wasn’t as if she could run off and hide from it, when she had nowhere to run to. He needed only assure her that the choice would be hers to make, and he would do that at an appropriate time. Less than an hour after her arrival was definitely too soon.

Still—he didn’t stop staring. He knew he should. He simply couldn’t.

He found it incredible that Ascot had managed to hide this exquisite daughter of his from the ton, to keep her under wraps, as it were. This was their third year in London. Surely someone of note would have discovered her by now, particularly since the family had lived in one of the more desirable neighborhoods, well populated with titles. Yet she wasn’t engaged or being courted, and her name had never reached the gossip mills. This would have been her come-out Season—if her father had been home to “bring her out.”

He decided to ask, “Why is it you’re unknown to society here?”

“Perhaps because I’ve made no effort to be known,” she replied with a light shrug.

“Why not?”