To him, charm and grace had always come easily, something she, being a Vaux and therefore attuned to all the nuances of appearance, had always appreciated.

Still did; if anything, the effect he had on her, on her senses, was more pronounced than she recalled. She knew very well just how deeply she still loved him, but she’d forgotten what it felt like, forgotten all the physical manifestations that came with that soul-deep connection.

She hadn’t been this close to him for twelve long years. Her decision to keep her distance when he’d reappeared among the ton had clearly been wise; even with a good six feet separating them, she could feel her rib cage tightening, enough to affect her breathing.

Enough to make her feel just a touch giddy. To have her nerves stretching in telltale anticipation.

An anticipation that would never be fulfilled.

Not now.

Not after she’d married Randall.

His gray gaze had shifted from her; now it returned, focused and intent. “Why did the authorities fix on Justin? Was he there?”

Relief glimmered; that he was asking questions boded well. “Apparently he called on Randall last night. Randall’s stupid butler, who thoroughly disapproves of all Vaux, Justin in particular, was only too happy to point his finger. But you know as well as I do that, all appearances to the contrary, Justin would never kill anyone.”

Christian caught her eye, read therein both her temper and her worry. Her anxiety. “You don’t believe he would. I might not believe he would. That doesn’t mean he didn’t.”

Baiting a Vaux was a dangerous pastime, but this time she didn’t bite back.

Which told him how deeply worried she was.