One Sinful Night

by Kaitlin O’Riley

  Being discovered with Aidan in her bed was traumatic enough, but now she had to marry him. It would be a miserable marriage, for he would never trust her or respect her as he should. And then there was his mother. Lady Whitlock was bound to blame the entire scandalous incident on Vivienne.

  In order to avoid joining the others at breakfast downstairs the next morning, for she could not face Aidan, or Susana Kavanaugh, or Jackson Harlow, Vivienne remained in her room and helped Lizzie pack their belongings. Lizzie brought her some tea and toast, for that was all Vivienne could stomach at the moment. The calming, mundane task of packing helped to calm her frayed nerves somewhat, although her hands shook as she placed the wooden box from her father lovingly in the massive trunk that held all her possessions.

  The box brought back memories of her father’s disappearance and her quest to learn the truth. Assuming that Jackson Harlow must be appalled by her disgraceful behavior last night, she realized she lost her chance to find out what really happened to her father. What Mister Harlow must think of her now! He would never help her find her father after the shocking way she had behaved, and she didn’t blame him.

  Eerily, the whole incident reminded her of the afternoon in the cottage in Galway when Aidan found her with Nicky Foster. The confusion. The shame. The terrible consequences. Honestly, how did everyone happen to be walking by her room at such an hour? It was almost as if they were trying to catch her with Aidan. But she certainly could not accuse her aunt and uncle or even Lady Whitlock of entrapping her into marrying Aidan. There was not a chance of that.

  Vivienne could only hide in her room for so long before good manners dictated she venture downstairs to say goodbye. Squaring her shoulders, she attempted to control the nervous trembling in her hands as she descended the main staircase. The front hallway bustled in a flurry of activity as guests prepared to depart Bingham Hall. She saw Aunt Gwen talking with Aunt Jane. Glenda stood beside them, a self-important expression on her round, double-chinned face at the sight of Vivienne, waving at her pointedly. Yes, Glenda, for one, was thoroughly enjoying Vivienne’s disgrace.

  Thankfully, she did not see Aidan or his mother. She wondered if they had departed already, but she did not want to draw attention to herself by asking after him. However, Jackson Harlow caught her eyes immediately. He looked as handsome as ever; his golden blond hair neatly combed, his intelligent eyes the color of coffee with cream. Her cheeks flamed at the memory of how he had seen her last night, but his expression offered only questioning concern. He wanted to know if she were all right.

  She smiled faintly at him. “Good afternoon.”

  “Good afternoon, Miss Montgomery.” He looked at her with something akin to sympathy. “I trust you are well today.”

  She nodded her head in response, cringing inwardly at the recollection of last night’s disgrace.

  “I look forward to seeing you upon our return to London.”

  At his comforting words, Vivienne struggled to hold back the tears that would not come in the privacy of her room last night but now seemed ready to spill forth with ease. He still wanted to help her after he had witnessed her disgrace last night. That he could still treat her so respectfully warmed her heart. He was a good man and he really did care for her.

  “I did not intend to upset you,” he said gently.

  “No, you did not upset me, Mister Harlow. I am simply touched by your overwhelming kindness.”

  He moved a few steps closer to her and whispered hurriedly, “I’m sorry I was not able to come to you sooner last night. If I had been there earlier all that happened could have been prevented.”

  Vivienne looked at him in startled surprise. What was he talking about? Been there on time? On time for what? Did he think he could have prevented her sleeping with Aidan or her getting caught by her aunt and uncle?

  He continued to whisper to her, “I can help you out of this situation, Vivienne. We’ll talk more in London. Everything will be fine, so please don’t worry. Come to my office Wednesday at noon. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Jackson Harlow stepped away from her casually as Gregory and George came striding into the hall. Puzzled, but grateful that he was still willing to help her, she nodded her head in agreement. Jackson Harlow bid her farewell, and turned to say good-bye to the duke and duchess before he left. Confused by his odd comments, Vivienne faced her cousins.

  She could tell by the expressions on their somewhat somber faces that they had been made aware of her disgrace. Whether they heard the story from their parents or Aidan himself, she did not know.

  “Are you all right, Vivvy?” Gregory asked softly, his expression full of sympathy.

  She shook her head wearily at him.

  He put his arm around her and whispered in her ear, “It will be fine. Aidan is a good man, and you’ll get on well together.”

  Again tears welled in her eyes but she blinked them back resolutely. Tearfulness seemed to be the order of the day for her. Just then Uncle Gilbert came in and announced that their carriages were ready. They said good-bye to Aunt Jane and Uncle Richard, who made them promise to visit again soon.

  Eager to leave, Vivienne hoped that she could ride with the twins as they did on the way there, but it seemed her aunt and uncle weren’t about to let her out of their sight. They insisted she ride with them. So Vivienne endured Glenda’s presence for the entire journey back to London. And Glenda took great joy in taking up as much of the seat as possible, leaving Vivienne pressed uncomfortably against the wall of the carriage, with Glenda’s elbow jammed in her side. The only saving grace was that once they arrived at the Cardwell townhouse, she would not have to share a room with Glenda anymore.

  As they bounced along the road to London, Vivienne felt relieved that she had not had to face Aidan before she left Bingham Hall. She simply did not have the strength to look in his eyes yet. She could not bear to see the coldness, that utter lack of feeling for her, that would certainly be in his expression. She supposed the next time she saw him, they would be getting married. Her heart sank and her stomach knotted.

  Ten years ago she was overjoyed at the prospect of marrying Aidan Kavanaugh. Now it only brought her misery because he despised her. He thought her unfaithful, morally loose, and conniving.

  Why had she let him kiss her last night? Why had she let him in her room? Even more confounding was what he was doing there in the first place. Ostensibly, he was there to warn her away from Jackson Harlow. If he hated her so much, why was he trying to protect her? She supposed he simply didn’t want her to ever be happy with anyone. But couldn’t that have waited until a more appropriate time? Why did he feel a pressing need to visit her at such a late hour in her bedchambers? Unless he simply wanted to take advantage of her again as he had in the portrait gallery. In which case, she had given him exactly what he came for and more than likely confirmed his worst suspicions of her immoral character. She should have resisted his seductive kisses, his caresses. She should have slapped his face. She should have thrown him out. Instead, she returned his kisses and melted at his slightest touch. She had welcomed him eagerly into her bed.

  And for the briefest instant it had been magically beautiful between them.

  It was almost as if they were back in their little cottage again, just the two of them, with all their love and passion for each other as if nothing had happened to ruin it. They were simply Aidan and Vivienne who had loved each other forever.

  Then without warning her aunt and uncle entered her bedroom and those fleeting feelings of tenderness and love between them instantly vanished. That cold, hard look returned to Aidan’s green eyes and once again they were at odds. Being forced to marry her was obviously intolerable to him. The cold expression on his face made her sick inside. She did not want to be the wife of a man unwilling to have her, of a man unable to trust her, of a man who did not love her. What kind of marriage would result from that? Not one that she wanted to be a part of. Yet it seemed she had no choice in the matter
now.

  Although Jackson Harlow’s strange words haunted her.

  “The bleedin’ crook didn’t pay me all wot ’e owed me. ’E was supposed t’ give me the other ’alf tha money after I set the fire. But ’e didn’t pay up. Tha’s not good business now, is it?”

  “Neither is setting a fire,” Aidan responded angrily to the shifty fellow seated before him in the shipping office of Kavanaugh Enterprises. Grayson had brought the man in the morning after Aidan had returned from Bingham Hall. Still stunned by his impending marriage to Vivienne Montgomery, Aidan forced himself to focus on his business and on finding proof that Jackson Harlow was responsible for setting the fire that destroyed his warehouse.

  Jimmy Travers scratched his thick skull, wondering at the meaning of Aidan’s words. His thin, wiry form looked malnourished and, from the stench of him, he had not bathed in quite some time. His clothes seemed to be held together by the thinnest of threads and the scruff of a ragged beard covered his thin face leaving only his beady eyes and beak nose prominent. “But I ’eld up on my end. Wot’s fair’s fair. ’E said, ’alf before, and the other ’alf after I do the job. And I did. I’s the one wot burned yer warehouse.”

  The man’s questionable intelligence and pitiable plight led Aidan to go easier on him than he intended. Yet he played along. “No, it wasn’t fair of him to renege on his end of the deal. Did you try to reason with him?”

  Jimmy Travers shifted uneasily from one foot to the other as he spoke. “Sure I did. I goes t’ ’is fancy office, not like ye ’ave ’ere, but ’arlow was outta town. So I waits fer days cuz I need the money ’e promised me. My sister’s sick in ’ospital. Then this fella”—he nodded his capped head to indicate Grayson—“says that ’e’ll ’elp me if’n I tells ’im ’oo set the fire. But I went t’ ’arlow’s ’ouse. I waited there till ’e come ’ome. I says t’ him give me the rest a my money. ’E jus’ laughed and says ’e don’ know wot I’m talkin’ about. Says ’e paid me all wot I agreed ta. ’Ad me thrown outta ’is ’ouse, tha’s wot.”

  “I can imagine you are quite angry with him. Angry enough to lie,” Aidan stated, appalled by Harlow’s deplorable ethics. Not only was Jackson Harlow dishonest in his legitimate business deals, but he could not be trusted to follow through in his own underhanded transactions. Obviously poor Travers had no idea of the type of person he was in league with.

  “’Tain’t a lie, I tell ye,” the man protested earnestly.

  Aidan and Grayson exchanged knowing glances across Aidan’s cluttered desk. Aidan’s office was just that, a place to do business. His steady work habits were reflected in the no-nonsense furnishings and lack of pretentious effects. Aidan had worked tirelessly over the years to make his shipping business a success. Perhaps he had thrown himself into his work to forget a certain Irish beauty, but he wasn’t about to have it ruined by Jackson Harlow and the poor, desperate souls he hired to do his dirty work.

  “Do you have anything to prove that he hired you to set the fire?” Aidan asked, anticipating what his answer would be.

  The slow-witted man shook his head with wide eyes, confirming Aidan’s hunch.

  “Thank you, Mr. Travers. We’ll be in touch with you very soon.”

  “But wot about my money?” he asked urgently. “I gotta ’elp my sister.”

  “If you think I’m going to pay you for burning down my warehouse, Mr. Travers, you are sadly mistaken,” Aidan stated in a cold tone. “You’re very fortunate I haven’t handed you over to the authorities. However, at this point, I am more interested in punishing the man who hired you than in punishing you. If you can help us prove it, there may just be a modest reward in it for you. Stay where we can find you.”

  The man, thoroughly cowed, dipped his head in reluctant agreement and shuffled reluctantly out of the office.

  In the ensuing silence, Daniel Grayson said grimly, “I have the distinct impression the Harlows are trying to drive us out of business.”

  “And they have almost succeeded in doing just that.” To Aidan’s thinking, that was an understatement. Ever since Aidan had taken over Harlow Shipping’s profitable routes to North America, he had steadily become Harlow’s biggest competitor. As more and more merchants preferred to do business with Kavanaugh Enterprises, the company’s profits increased greatly while Aidan earned a spotless reputation for honest, reliable business practices. On the other hand, Harlow Shipping, from what he had heard from various sources, seemed to be sliding downhill. The twin disasters of losing the shipment and the warehouse fire had placed Kavanaugh Enterprises on shaky ground.

  His company had suffered a considerable financial loss, but Aidan was determined to do everything in his power to overcome this setback. And punish those responsible for trying to destroy him.

  Grayson said intently, “We need to have proof to link Harlow to the fire. You and I believe this story of Travers, but no one else will.”

  Aidan hated to admit it, but Grayson had a point. “Keep your eye on Travers. He’s the key to nabbing the Harlow brothers. Make sure you have a man follow him.”

  Grayson nodded his head in accord with this and made his way to leave the office. “I’ll assign Jones first thing in the morning. He’s very good at this sort of work.”

  Aidan called after him. “And find out what hospital his sister is in and make sure she’s taken care of.”

  Chapter 17

  The Other Option

  “Now, please wait for me right here, Lizzie,” Vivienne instructed her maid as they stood outside the imposing limestone building that housed Harlow Shipping International.

  Still in disgrace, she’d managed to successfully escape Aunt Gwen’s watchful eyes for the afternoon by telling her that she and Lizzie were going to shop for some items for her trousseau. And she had actually visited a shop and bought a ribbon or two, although admittedly rather quickly. Then she made her way directly to Jackson Harlow’s office. It would upset her aunt to no end to find out that Vivienne was visiting Mister Harlow to discuss her father’s disappearance, so it was better if she simply didn’t know about it.

  “I simply need to speak with Mister Harlow about my father. It shouldn’t take much time at all. I promise, I shall be back momentarily,” Vivienne continued to explain.

  “All right, miss,” Lizzie stated reluctantly, her wide eyes filled with worry, but she was far too loyal to Vivienne to challenge her wishes. And at the moment, Vivienne was not above using that fact to her advantage.

  She gave Lizzie a reassuring pat on the shoulder, made her way up the neatly swept front steps, and bravely entered the building. She wore a smart day gown of a dusty rose, with an adorable bonnet in matching rose silk. Walking down the corridor and up a flight of stairs, she reached an imposing frosted-glass door with Harlow Shipping International painted in bold black letters on the front. She took a deep breath for courage and opened the door with feigned confidence. A young man, neatly dressed in a brown suit, greeted her with a solicitous air.

  “Welcome, Miss Montgomery. Mister Harlow has been expecting you and is waiting for you in his office. May I bring you some tea?” His efficacious manner did nothing to calm her nerves.

  “No, thank you,” she murmured softly, clutching her reticule tighter in her hand.

  The young man, obviously an assistant, escorted her politely into Jackson Harlow’s office. Harlow Shipping obviously did a tremendous amount of business to be able to afford such a grand and elegantly furnished office. A thick cocoa-brown carpet covered the floor and heavy mahogany furniture and comfortable leather chairs were placed strategically around the room. Two tall windows that looked out over the street below were covered with gold velvet drapes. Various potted plants placed around the room added a touch of warmth, while dark green wallpaper and gilt-framed paintings of the Harlow fleet of ships adorned the walls. Her eyes immediately scanned the pictures for a glimpse of the Sea Star. She did not see it.

  More daunted than she realized, Vivienne smiled nervously
when Jackson Harlow stood in greeting when he saw her enter. He moved around to the front of his gleaming mahogany desk, and gracefully took Vivienne’s small hand in his.

  “I’m so pleased that you were able to meet me as planned, Miss Montgomery.” He bent over her gloved hand in a gallant gesture and kissed it. “You look lovely, as always.”

  “Thank you, Mister Harlow.”

  “Please sit down and make yourself comfortable.” He turned to the young man, who had escorted Vivienne. “You may excuse yourself, Francis.”

  “Very good, sir.” The secretary headed out the door, closing it as he left.

  Jackson moved to sit behind his desk once more and turned his eyes upon her in a steady gaze during the awkward silence that followed. He said softly, “I was beginning to think that you wouldn’t come.”

  A nervous little laugh escaped her, as she adjusted her rose bonnet. “I was beginning to think I would not be able to get away from my aunt and uncle to see you.”

  “Obviously you were quite successful.” He looked at her pointedly. “First things first. Are you well, Miss Montgomery?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “May I presume to call you Vivienne?” He smiled at her in all his golden glory.

  She could not resist his charm. The night of the Binghams’ masked ball she had accepted Jackson’s offer of courtship, then the poor man witnessed her in bed with Aidan. He was quite aware of her disgrace and inescapable marriage, and now, in a brazen maneuver, she had secretly arrived at his office unchaperoned. Allowing him to call her by her given name at this point seemed mild in comparison to her other transgressions. She merely nodded her head in helpless agreement to his request.

  “Wonderful. Now you must call me Jackson.”

  Again Vivienne nodded her head. “Jackson it is then.”

  “Now, let’s discuss your father, shall we, Vivienne?” He adopted a businesslike air and began to shuffle through the sheaves of papers on his neatly ordered desk. “I’ve been looking over the records from your father’s voyages with us. Captain Montgomery had slowly taken over the trade routes to South Africa during the last five years, when he began piloting the Sea Star. He was an excellent captain, never lost a single shipment or crew member. He profited handsomely from our business with him.”