Page 17 of The Lost Prophecy

Darcy stopped pacing. “Avoiding Miss Elizabeth may be the only responsible course.”

Its rim slammed against the table in a metallic reprimand.

Darcy straightened his spine. “You have no judgement.”

The bowl rattled again, louder this time.

Darcy glared at it. “You have known of her existence for less than a day.”

Its polished surface caught the candlelight and released it in one bright, deliberate flash.

Darcy paced to the hearth and returned, dragging a hand through his hair. “I do not wish to avoid her.”

The bowl settled at once, its satisfaction visible in every smug, gleaming curve.

Darcy stared at the ridiculous object. “This conversation has confirmed that you are sentimental, irresponsible, and useless as an adviser.”

The light shifted and formed a wink, leaving Darcy alone with the conclusion that the bowl did not care what happened to the vampires, the Bennet family, or the state of the county.

It merely liked Miss Elizabeth.