A Disgraceful Miss by Elaine Golden Page B

her head in and ask the proprietor for a suggestion, when she spotted a familiar figure within.
    It was neither the line of his jacket nor the dark curls that struck her as familiar. No, it was the distinctive tilt of his head, as if he were studying something particularly intriguing. The look that never failed to make her insides feel as if they had turned to hot rice pudding.
    As a former soldier, Vinedale was generally as far from scholarly as a man could get, but he had a tendency to scrutinize even the smallest detail as if he might see straight to its essence. It was most disconcerting to be the subject of such study, and she wondered what had captured his attention.
    When Vinedale waved his hand to summon the shopkeeper, she knew him for certain and, before she even realized what she was about, she rapped briskly on the glass pane to get his attention. He turned, and she felt the full impact of his quicksilver gaze.
    She waved cheerfully as her stomach turned to pudding again. As it turned out, the queer sensation seemed to have less to do with a simple look and more to do with Vinedale’s presence in close proximity to her. He had a knack for leaving her…unsettled. As if her blood ran faster and her skin prickled in heightened awareness.
    Vinedale smiled then made a gesture to indicate she should wait while he completed his business.
    Since he was a close friend of Daniel, she had spent some considerable time around the earl herself. Nowadays, she was almost…eager to see him. Not that she ever thought about it or sought him out because of it. Much.
    Angelica pulled up the cashmere shawl that Vinedale had given her this past Christmas. It was a lovely warm fabric, one she particularly enjoyed rubbing her cheek against when she had a quiet moment of reflection. And sometimes, if she were completely honest with herself, when she did think about Vinedale.
    He was, of course, completely ill-suited for her. He had a good ten years more than her that he wore as if they were twenty. But that wasn’t unusual for men who had once served in the military. It was as if the brutality of each battle drained bits of their life and left an echo of the horror of war behind.
    And perhaps it did. It seemed at times, with both Daniel and Vine, that when their guard was down, the remnants of pain and despair shone clearly in their eyes. Daniel wore his as if he’d earned it. Vine disguised his with humor.
    Vinedale concluded his business and exited the small shop, a tiny bell chiming behind him. Her footman drifted away to lounge against a shop front.
    “Good day, Lady Angelica,” he said as he sketched a bow. “Fancy meeting you here. What brings you to the arcade this fine day?”
    “Just your sort of day, is it, Vinedale? You must be in ecstasies, because I don’t believe the sun has made an appearance in nearly a fortnight.”
    His smile was the crooked one that always gave her a little thrill.
    Wrong. So wrong, this feeling.
    “Indeed it is. It’s just the sort of day to lie about and do nothing but indulge in things best not mentioned in public.”
    She raised a brow. He was teasing her, as usual; the glint in his eye suggested something wicked. And her impulse was to rise to the challenge.
    Brazenly, she ran her gaze down, then back up his figure in assessment, and his smile deepened. “You haven’t an ounce of sloth in you, Vine. Certainly your presence here belies your claim.”
    Vinedale sighed dramatically. “You have found me out. Such things require sufficient distraction at hand,” he said. Then he straightened and his expression eased, as if he were caught at something he oughtn’t be doing and sought to distance himself from it. He shrugged. “As to what I’m about, I suspect it’s the same as you. Searching for a gift for Daniel.”
    Of course he was. Charlotte would have invited him to dinner. Vine was always included in family gatherings in the Walsh household.
    Why hadn’t she realized this sooner?