Basil felt like he was floating, untethered. He was full of hot air and soaring somewhere high above the rest of reality but… by force, almost. Not of his own genuine accord. He tried to focus on the feel of his love’s lips against his own but for whatever bloody reason Lissington’s face floated across his mind’s eye. That was terribly unfair to Victoire, especially when she was the one here before him, the one he was determined to prove himself to. To marry! The moment was only a few seconds long, but it felt like an eternity in which his desires waged war on his mind. His body was reacting to Ms. Victoire, physically, but his heart and his brain were adrift. The lady pulled away then, removing herself entirely from his person with a twisted look of discomfort on her face. Basil could see instantly that he’d not been successful in charming her. He wondered if a second kiss would be more convincing for both of them, since he knew this was what he wanted, but he didn’t have a chance to try and tell her as much. A sudden clatter of something breaking caught his attention and the brunette turned to look.
There on the ground, dripping wet and with a shattered vase in his lap, was Anthony Alderton. Instantly Basil’s face contorted with displeasure, a frown pinching his brows. “Anthony,” he greeted icily. “What impeccable timing you have.”