Chapter Nine
Stopping short, she found her nose a little more than an inch from a striped satin waistcoat.
The most wonderfully clean, and yet surprisingly familiar, spicy masculine scent assailed her as she took a step backward and let her eyes move up slowly. She looked past the diamond neatly settled in an exquisitely tied neckcloth, the starched collar points, the strong chin, and into the smugly smiling face of the vexatious viscount.
The gentleman began to laugh. He was not exactly laughing out loud, but his broad shoulders were shaking and his warm, gray eyes squinted with merriment.
“I do beg your pardon,” Sara said, lifting her chin a notch, which was not easy because she already had to look up quite a bit to see his face.
He took another step back and gave her a small bow.
