To say he was impressed by the newly crowned debutant’s wit might have been a stretch, but Vincent certainly found her much more amusing than he’d expected. Here was one that was not so much airheaded and ready to be woo’d by the first prospective suitor, but rather a girl who seemed hellbent on her mood. As such, Vincent couldn’t help but assume she was a capricious, fickle thing but it was of no consequence to him. She would provide sufficient entertainment while helping him achieve his aims. What more could the blonde ask for? Still, she seemed interested enough. Managing to pique her attention was a small victory on the long road to Babylon. Her implication that he was brave for approaching her spoke volumes of the girl’s conceit, and yet Vincent could only continue to grin a little impishly as she stepped away from the balcony. White fabric rustled delicately like dove’s wings with her movements and Vincent zeroed in on her direction. She was leading him down the staircase, it would seem. For a moment, he forgot all about her baseless accusation and wondered, idly, if she so unhappy with her lot as to determine her own plot to seduce him? Or was she just bored enough to tempt fate with a stranger she did not know in the darkness. He supposed it did not much matter. She was serving up his revenge on a silver platter. The only instinct Vincent currently toiled with was self-preservation.
He could not afford to be found out by the father Wixeldorf with whom he had his own dealings. Not like this, here and now, when his benefactor had so generously trusted him with the first of - hopefully - many more such invitations. A true snag in his plan, if ever there had been one.
Thinking carefully on his next move, Vincent continued to lean on the veranda and turned in the debutant’s direction, pressing the bulk of his weight on one arm and bringing the other hand to run through his hair thoughtfully. “It is not the danger I pose to you that you ought to concern yourself with, Ms. Wixeldorf,” he replied, smugly. “I am a gentleman enough not to dare threaten a young lady’s reputation in the dark corners of a garden, at her debut no less, and under her father’s watchful eye…” He gave her a meaningful look. “I will say however, if you fancy yourself the next Mrs. Iago there are expediencies that could be sought.” It was a tease, or a dare, but it came out more predatory than Vincent had intended. He could not see this debutant denying him vehemently, or turning down the challenge if she was determined to keep up her prickly facade; but if she knew anything about his surname, it was sure to strike a nerve. The blonde straightened.
“Vincent,” he supplied with a grin, unhelpfully after the fact. “Vincent Iago, at your service.”