One Sinful Night (6 page)

While Vivienne listened to Gregory sweet-talk his aunt, she still shook from her unpleasant encounter with Lady Whitlock. She had never liked Aidan's mother and obviously time had done nothing to soften the woman's malevolent disposition. No longer in the mood for fun and games with her high-spirited cousins, Vivienne trembled with hurt and resentment. Refusing to give the bitter old dragon the satisfaction of thinking that she had succeeded in upsetting her, she remained in the drawing room to play although she no longer had any desire to stay.

One of Aidan's many little friends, indeed!

Lady Whitlock knew very well what she and Aidan had meant to each other, but she had acted as if Vivienne had been nothing to him. And that remark about Nicky Foster almost knocked the wind out of her! She wished she had thought of a cunning remark to answer her, but she had not her wits about her. And after all, what could she say? She was fortunate the old harridan had not made aspersions on Vivienne's character. How that woman ever raised a son as wonderful and caring as Aidan had always been a mystery to her.

Vivienne took a deep breath to calm herself and plastered if not an enthusiastic smile on her face, then at least one that appeared to be interested. After Aunt Jane gave her consent for them to play and left them to themselves, Gregory explained the rules of the new parlor game.

“It's a harmless little game called, ‘Facts and Forfeits,'” he stated with a gleam in his eyes. “It is possible to learn quite a lot about a person from this game.”

“Oh, you're not playing this again, are you, Greg?” Aidan's deep voice resonated behind her, causing Vivienne to startle as she turned to face him.

She had thought he had retired for the evening and his unexpected presence stunned her. Still dressed in a black dinner jacket with an immaculate white cravat, Aidan looked dashingly handsome. The sharp contrast of black and white set off his masculine features to perfection and his jet-black hair gleamed in the warm light of the room. The color had returned to his face and his dark eyebrows arched in mild amusement as he glanced at them.

“Lord Whitlock, you're here!” Helene squealed, clapping her hands together in delight. “You'll play with us, won't you?”

“This game got Whitlock into a bit of trouble back at Cambridge once, didn't it?” Gregory taunted him. “I think he might have some secrets to hide.”

“The truth is something I value highly and I, for one, have nothing to hide,” Aidan answered smoothly, his intense eyes lingering for the briefest moment on Vivienne. “In fact, I'm most eager to play. Please continue.”

Vivienne had not expected Aidan to join them. Suddenly very nervous, she wished she could gracefully make an exit, but it had been her idea that they try the new game, and Gregory and George would never let her leave now.

Gregory continued the explanation of the rules with renewed enthusiasm, his eyes lively. “The way it works is that a person is asked a question from one of the group. After hearing the question he or she gets to decide if they want to answer that question. If they answer, it has to be honestly, as a fact. If they choose not to answer the question truthfully, they have to pay a forfeit.”

Their small group consisted of some of the younger, and still unmarried, houseguests: the Cardwell twins, Lady Helene Winston, Lord Harry Gardner, Miss Sarah Atwood and her younger sister Victoria, and Mister Wesley Lawrence, as well as Aidan and herself. Vivienne idly wondered where Jackson Harlow was, since she had not seen him since supper ended. She had so enjoyed his company that afternoon and would have appreciated his charming presence with her now.

“What are the forfeits?” asked Sarah Atwood, a pretty brunette with a matching set of dimples framing her wide mouth.

“Whatever the Questioner decides,” George said. “For example, if someone refuses my question, I can make up a forfeit for them to pay for not telling the truth, such as doing something as ridiculous as having to recite one of Shakespeare's sonnets.”

“Or you can demand a kiss as a forfeit…” Gregory whispered with a devilish gleam in his eyes.

“What my charming cousin won't do for a kiss.” The others laughed at Vivienne's dry remark.

“How do we decide who begins the first question?” asked Helene, smiling with excitement.

“We'll draw straws. The shortest becomes the first Questioner and asks a question of the person of his choice. When that person has answered the question honestly or paid the forfeit, then he or she may ask the next question,” Gregory said as they began to arrange the chairs in a close circle. “And if we know you are lying or if you do not perform your forfeit satisfactorily, you are out of the game. The winner is the last one in.”

It seemed an amusing game to Vivienne, and if Aidan were not there she would have actually enjoyed playing. As they settled into their seats, Vivienne found herself sitting between Harry Gardner, a tall, lanky fellow with brown hair and eyes the color of coffee, and Wesley Lawrence, a fair-haired man with a broad nose. She was positioned directly across from Aidan, who sat between Victoria Atwood and Gregory.

Since the shortest straw went to Lord Harry Gardner, he asked the first question.

“Miss Victoria, which Cardwell twin do you think is more handsome, Gregory or George? Fact or forfeit?”

Amid much laughter, Victoria answered confidently. “I can honestly answer that one. It's a fact that the boys are identical. They are equally handsome.”

They applauded her answer. Victoria said excitedly, “Now, my question is for Lord Whitlock.”

They all turned to look at Aidan. With a self-satisfied smile Victoria asked, “Why have you yet to marry, Lord Whitlock? Fact or forfeit?”

A chorus of oohs went round the circle. “You could have asked that same question of any of them,” Sarah Atwood called laughingly to her sister.

Managing a bland smile, Vivienne felt uncomfortable with that question to Aidan. The answers would be too painful. Yet she could not resist a quick peek at Lady Helene Winston, who blushed prettily at the mention of the Earl of Whitlock and marriage. Her cool, refined features were beautiful and her wheat-colored hair was elegantly coiled in a knot at the base of her neck. From what Vivienne had gathered from her cousins, it was generally believed that there was an understanding of sorts between Aidan and Helene that they would eventually marry. Vivienne had to admit that Helene seemed a perfect match for Aidan. She already appeared every inch a countess.

Aidan rose to the challenge and answered Victoria's question without hesitation. “The fact is I have chosen not to marry because I do not believe I am ready to settle down.” He gave a droll look around the circle and winked at Helene. “Not yet anyway.”

“Nicely evaded, old chap,” Lord Harry commented with a chuckle. “Your question.”

A moment of silence ensued as they waited expectantly for Aidan to ask one of them a question. With a sudden, sickening sense of dread, Vivienne knew, just knew, he was going to question her.

“Miss Montgomery,” Aidan said clearly, his narrowed emerald eyes pinned on Vivienne, as he crossed his arms across his chest.

Her heart beat a little faster and her mouth went dry at the endless possibilities of his questions.
Not here. Not in front of everyone. He wouldn't dare. Would he?

His rich voice rang out clearly, “Have you ever done something of which you are ashamed?”

His odd words left them all silent, and the air was charged with the palpable tension between the two of them.

“Fact or forfeit?” Aidan added, urging her to make some response.

Feeling her cheeks flush scarlet at the obvious implication of his question, she realized how much Aidan despised her. Even after all this time, he thought so little of her that he would attempt to dishonor her in front of her family and newfound friends. He seemed so utterly spiteful, so self-satisfied with the embarrassment he was unmistakably causing her, that she flinched at his stare.
Oh, Aidan.

“That's not a proper question to ask a lady, Whitlock,” George declared with a frown, his dissatisfaction with Aidan's manner quite apparent.

Lord Harry offered gallantly, “You are not obligated to answer that, Miss Montgomery.”

“Then pay the forfeit,” Aidan stated with a cold look, challenging her.

Vivienne's pride would not allow that. She met his eyes defiantly. They were hard and unfeeling, judging her. Her chin went up unconsciously and she did not hesitate to answer. “The fact is I have never done anything the least bit shameful in my life.”

“Of course you haven't, darling. You couldn't possibly have,” Gregory said in her defense, frowning with disapproval in Aidan's direction. “Your question, Vivvy.”

She cleared her throat, but did not miss the dark look of complete skepticism Aidan gave her answer. How she detested him in that moment! She fashioned a wide smile on her face and asked brightly, “My darling cousin Gregory. What was the worst trick you ever played on your brother?”

Grateful for the change in tone, they all expressed amusement as Gregory opted to forfeit rather than confess his sins in front of his twin. In return, Vivienne demanded he ask old Lord Worthington for a puff of his expensive cigar. As they all watched Gregory gallantly saunter across the expanse of the grand parlor to the elderly man snoozing by the fire, Vivienne dared a glance at Aidan.

He was still staring at her. His emerald eyes had been fixed on her since the game began and it utterly unnerved her. Struck senseless by his masculine presence and steady gaze, she attempted to appear nonchalant by brushing the dark curls from her face.

His task complete, and triumphant from his return, a teasing Gregory then asked a question of Helene Winston. Amidst much playful speculation, Helene refused to name who, if anyone, gave her her first kiss. Gregory demanded that she sing the nursery rhyme “Mistress Mary” with a French accent. After their laughter subsided at her atrocious pronunciation, it was Helene's turn to ask a question.

“Miss Montgomery, I have a question only you can answer for us.” Her pale hazel eyes peered at Vivienne expectantly, her refined, fair features still flushed from the laughter of her earlier consequence. “What was Lord Whitlock like when you knew him years ago as a little boy in Ireland? Fact or forfeit?”

Vivienne froze for a moment, although not so much from surprise at the question, but more from the uncertainty of how to answer it. Since Lady Whitlock's comment earlier, she had been half expecting this question from Helene Winston. Due to her complicated history with Aidan, Vivienne couldn't help but feel uneasy with the girl, although Helene seemed a very congenial person. She was just the sort of woman that a distinguished earl such as Aidan should marry, and naturally she would want to know what Aidan was like as a child. Any lady would be curious about her future husband's childhood.

“That's the question to which we'd all love to know the answer, Lady Helene! Was he a stick in the mud then as well?” George asked inquisitively. “Because we certainly know he can be now!”

Again Vivienne felt the heat of Aidan's intense stare on her. She flashed him the briefest of glances, but now his handsome face held an unfathomable expression. Should she avoid answering and pay the penalty? But after Aidan's pointed question to her, they would surely guess that something had happened between them back in Ireland if she did not answer.

Vivienne had never been a coward…

“Come on Vivvy, we're waiting!” Gregory urged.

“The fact is…” she whispered, her throat tightening at the words.

The truth it would be then, however much she would like to viciously flay his character. It confused her that they referred to him as being dull or boring. Aidan must have changed greatly over the years. Her voice was soft as she spoke. “Well…He wasn't the Earl of Whitlock back then. Just Aidan Kavanaugh. And he wasn't a stick in the mud at all…He was wonderful. He was great fun and always full of adventure and laughter. We played together often. He was…he was the sweetest boy. Smart, sensitive, and kind—”

“That's enough,” Aidan interrupted in a low, harsh voice. The expression on his handsome face darkened menacingly and a muscle tightened along his jawline.

“Aw, come now, Whitlock!” Wesley Lawrence called out tauntingly, his grin beaming. “It was just getting interesting!”

Gregory, astutely taking in the tense look between Aidan and Vivienne, came to the rescue. “Yes, that's all we need to hear Vivienne. It's your turn to ask a question now.”

Grateful for Gregory's intervention, Vivienne rallied quickly, not meeting Aidan's eyes. She laughed brightly and said, “I shall ask a question of Lord Harry. Is there a particular lady in this room you are sweet on?”

That question caused a chorus of exclamations and nervous giggles from Sarah Atwood. Harry chose to pay the forfeit rather than name one of them, so Vivienne declared he had to kneel at the feet of each lady present and profess his undying love for her. As Harry met the demands of the penalty in the midst of titters and teasing laughter, Vivienne let out a deep breath, unaware that she had been holding it for so long. Her hands were shaking in her lap. Like a magnet to steel, she could not help herself from looking up and meeting Aidan's intense glare head-on.

His green eyes were still fixed on her but his expression was unreadable. Her stomach flip-flopped. As they stared at each other and the moment stretched into minutes, she suddenly felt that they were alone. Just the two of them. Something in his eyes changed and became familiar. They seemed to soften, to warm to her. He looked at her as if he cared. It was the briefest glimmer of Aidan. The real Aidan that she had once loved. Not the haughty, cold, Earl of Whitlock who barely acknowledged her presence, but the Aidan who loved her. Without speaking a word, he asked something of her, questioned her with his eyes.