The original motive of revenge wasn’t helping to ease his conscience at all in the matter of his becoming her lover, when he had counted on it doing so. The only thing that might help now was to not let it ruin her reputation as he’d planned to. As long as it didn’t become public knowledge, she could still find a good marriage.

He didn’t doubt that Hale would marry her either way. He was smitten by her beauty, could care less whether she was a virgin. But could he stomach watching another man pursue her, when just speaking of it last night, he’d wanted to punch the man in the face?

Larissa recovered first from his outburst, explained calmly, “I’m sorry. When I told Mary this morning that we would be living here permanently now, she no doubt decided she could make herself more at home here, and she feels most at home in a kitchen.”

Vincent flushed. And he couldn’t correct her about living there permanently—not yet. His silence on the matter would confirm it in her mind, but that couldn’t be helped. He still expected her father to show up, even if she didn’t. And when Ascot did, then Vincent could be done with this bloody business of revenge, deliver the final blow to the man, and then get on with his own life.

He mumbled something about their both keeping their servants in line, and hoped she’d leave it go at that. She did. She even smiled at him, which had the effect of making it worse. He couldn’t leave it go himself now. She was such a sweet, gullible chit, and he’d been an absolute bastard in his dealings with her from the start—and was still going to be. The least he could do was make her happy in the meantime, and keep his foul moods to himself.

He moved around the table to her side. He would have kissed her if they were alone, but there were servants entering and leaving, so he merely bent down and whispered to her, “Forgive me for that boorish greeting. And thank you for the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received.”

“What gift?”

“You.”

He could feel the heat of her blush, though he was standing behind her and couldn’t see it. Her cheeks were still pink when he took his seat across from her and gazed at her. But he detected the barest trace of a smile, proving it wasn’t embarrassment making her cheeks glow.

The meal progressed. She chatted aimlessly merely to fill the silence, nothing of import, merely relaxed conversation that he found himself enjoying. She could be amusing when she wasn’t nervous, and she wasn’t the least bit nervous with him at the moment.