Vincent Hawthorne didn't go over.
He took out his phone, snapped a photo of the scene unfolding ahead, and sent it to Faye Vaughn. [How much longer will you be?]
Faye Vaughn didn't reply.
She couldn't, of course. She was currently dealing with Wyatt Hawthorne's continued probing.
"Miss Kensington doesn't seem very fond of the escargot."
Wyatt Hawthorne slowly pushed the porcelain sauce dish toward her, his gaze sweeping over her little finger, which had curled up unconsciously—
'That little habit is just like Faye Vaughn's. She does that every time she sees food she dislikes on the table.'
The frown on Faye Vaughn's face as she looked at the escargot slowly faded, replaced by a radiant smile. "Quite the contrary, I love this dish."
'That's a lie.'
'I can't bring myself to eat escargot.'
'Did Wyatt Hawthorne order this on purpose? Does he suspect I'm actually Faye Vaughn?'
'No, that can't be it...'
'I haven't slipped up at all.'
