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His eyes clouded, as if he were thinking of his own circumstances, his brother and the woman he had been meant to marry. “You will have to wait and see, Vivianna,” he said, but his voice had lost its lightness.
“Tell me about Celia Maclean.”
She had asked the question on impulse, and she could see that she had surprised him. He drew back a little and removed his hand. Vivianna supposed she was setting him a test. A chance to tell her the truth about himself, to be frank with her, to answer some of the questions that puzzled her about him. The
re was always the likelihood that he would refuse, and she must not be disappointed if he did not answer…
“Celia and Anthony were not officially engaged,” he said, his voice low and level, and she felt a frisson of relief. “But it was understood they would marry. Her father wanted it, and Anthony was in love with her. Celia…she was reserved, but she did not protest the match, not aloud, anyway. She came to my house in the evening—late. I was…I had been to a dinner, and I had drunk far more than normal. I was surprised to see her.”
“But you let her in.”
“Of course. She was…upset, and she was Anthony’s fiancée, nearly. She said she needed to talk to me urgently.”
“And then?” She glanced at him now. He was staring unseeing at the stage, handsome and somber.
Act One was over. All around them the applause thundered out. Patrons began to move about. The dandies in the stalls had their monocles up again.
“And then?” Vivianna repeated.
“I can only think she knew Anthony was coming to see me; he must have told her so. She had timed her own visit so well.”
“She compromised herself,” Vivianna said, surprised. She had not expected this. The bad man, the rake, had not been as much at fault as rumor would have everyone believe. Vivianna didn’t know what to think.
“Yes.” He looked at her now, his dark eyes full of so much pain and regret, she felt an ache of empathy. “She didn’t want to marry Anthony. I didn’t realize at the time, but I have heard since that her father was forcing her to make the match. She was in love with someone else, someone totally unsuitable. The only way out was to ruin herself and drive Anthony away.”
Vivianna nodded. “Did you kiss her?” she demanded, determined to hear the worst.
Oliver’s eyebrows rose. “She kissed me first.”
“But you did kiss her back?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Of course.”
“Did you touch her?”
“Vivianna,” he groaned, and bowed his head. Clearly he was ashamed and embarrassed, but she would not let him avoid the truth just because he did not like it.
“I want to know, Oliver. You said the other day that you wanted to avenge your brother. I want to know everything that happened that night. Tell me.”
Upon the stage the curtain had risen once more. The orchestra in the pit struck up, and Act Two opened inside a taverna, where a wedding celebration was taking place.
“Yes,” Oliver said softly, “I kissed her, and yes, I touched her. I was drunk and confused, but I don’t claim that as an excuse. I should have pushed her away—she was Anthony’s.”
“And then he found you both.”
“Yes.” He looked at her through his lashes, and his mouth curled in a smile that held no humor. “She was wrapped around me like ivy, her dress half off, her hair down. She’d pulled off my cravat and my shirt was hanging out of my trousers. Yes, Vivianna, you wanted to know!”
She had looked away, but she forced herself to turn back. “You didn’t consummate your…eh…”
His eyebrows lifted again. “Are you an expert on copulation, too, Miss Greentree?” he asked her with an edge of anger.
“No, of course not. There…there was a booklet I read once, and it showed illustrations of men and women.”
His lips quirked. “Oh?”
“It was an instruction booklet, on how to prevent children. There was a Latin term…”
Oliver looked as if he wasn’t sure he was having this conversation. “Coitus interruptus.”
