It was indeed Count Vorkosigan. He pinned his son with eyes cold and gray as a glacier on a sunless day, and began without preamble, “Miles, what did you do to make that girl cr—” He broke off as his gaze passed over Ivan, standing at attention like a man stuffed. Count Vorkosigan’s voice returned to a more normal growl. “Oh, hell. I was hoping to avoid tripping over you tonight. Figured you’d be getting safely drunk in a corner on my wine—”
