WIlliam's eyes shot open when the cloth used to cover his eyes was removed, "What is the meaning of this nonsense?" He began but stopped when he spotted Vincent's thunderous glare from across the room.
"Viscount William," Vincent's low voice didn't fail to send chills down his spine, "How lovely to meet you."
William wanted to point out that there was nothing lovely about their meeting, but he bit down his tongue upon sighting the rifle in the devil's hand. He had to warn himself to be careful. An angry Vincent was a mad and dangerous man that no one wanted to mess with, not even him, Viscount William. He knew the man wouldn't hesitate to drill a hole into his damn skull with the rifle and toss his body into the river for the authorities to find. Goddamnit! What has he gotten himself into?
