"And you're saying you saw my brother. Alive."

"Yes."

"If that is true, where is he?"

A frown puckered her brow. "I do not know. My visions are most often vague. I only know he did not die as everyone believes."

"And you expect me to believe this?"

The icy disbelief in his tone chilled her. "I understand your doubts. That which cannot be explained scientifically is easy to dismiss as fiction. I can only assure you that what I am telling you is true."

"What did this man you claim was my brother look like?"

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, forcing her mind to empty then focus on what she'd seen. "Tall. Broad shouldered. Dark hair."

"How convenient. You've just described half the men in England, including the Regent himself, who, as I'm sure you know, is very much alive. And it would not be difficult to describe my brother when there is a large portrait of him hanging in the gallery."

Opening her eyes, she said "I have not seen a portrait. The man I saw looked like you, and he had a scar."

He stilled and she sensed his sudden tension. 'Scar? Where?"

"On his upper right arm."

"Many men bear scars." A muscle in his jaw ticked. "If you think to convince me that you possess some sort of magical powers, you've picked the wrong man to ply with your schemes. Gypsy thieves have roamed Europe for centuries, claiming such powers, lying, hoping to trick foolish people into parting with their gold, and stealing it if they failed."

Anger shot through her. "I am not a gypsy, a schemer, a thief, or a liar."

"Indeed? I suppose next you'll tell me you can read minds."

"Only occasionally." Her gaze dropped to his mouth, which was set in a disdainful line. "I read your thoughts when you touched my hand."

"Did you? And what was I thinking?"

"You… wished to kiss me."

He merely raised his brows. "It would not require any special powers to hazard such a guess. My attention was momentarily fixed on your mouth."