Vexing the Viscount

He laughed only slightly softer.

She bit down on her lip. “My lord, might I ask you something in private?”

Braden glanced at the footman and then nodded his head toward the door. “What is it?” he asked once the footman closed the door.

Her cheeks reddened like apples. “My mind is a little blurred from all the drink. What exactly happened after we returned home?”

He chuckled. “You don’t remember. That is famous. I kept telling you to stop drinking my brandy, but you must have been feeling quite rebellious because you would not stop.”

“Yes, I know. But what happened?”

“What do you think happened?”

She fisted her hands. “I don’t know. I took the pins out of my hair. And I only know that for certain because Mrs. Abbott told me a maid found them. Did we . . . ?”

“Did we what, Tia?”

“You know what I want to hear,” she said with a groan of frustration.

“Are you done?” Braden asked, glancing to the still untouched food.

“Yes, why?”

“One of the best ways to get your memories back is to return to the scene.” He rose from the chair and held out his hand for her. “Come along. Let us return to the study.”

Once they reached the study, he closed the door behind them. “The first thing you did was—”

“Pour myself a glass of brandy. I remember that much.”

“And after gulping it down like a sailor, you poured yourself another and then a third.”

“And I believe there might have been a fourth one in there somewhere, but that’s where it gets fuzzy,” she said, collapsing into the same chair she sat in last night. “I know we were talking, but I don’t remember the topic of conversation. I’m assuming it was your dreadful behavior at Lady Whitfield’s party.”

Braden sat in the chair across from her. “Actually, we discussed your sister and family some.”

She frowned, but said nothing for a long moment.

“And then you attempted to seduce me.”

“You’re mad,” she said with a laugh.

“Stand up, Tia.” For once, she did as he requested without question. “You stood in that very spot and loosened your hair for me.”

“While you sat in that same chair,” she muttered. “Oh dear God, I remember. I acted like a wanton last night.” Her hands covered her mouth as she sank back into the chair. “But I still don’t remember what happened after you . . .”

“After I what?” He wanted to know exactly what she remembered.

“We kissed. You kissed me everywhere,” she said breathlessly. “My ear, my jaw, my mouth—you put your tongue in my mouth!”

“Had you never been kissed like that before?” The woman was in her middle twenties. How could she not have been kissed by some beau?

“No,” she whispered. “Your brother kissed me once, but it was nothing like that.” She stared at the carpet as if unable to meet his eyes. “Did anything else happen?”

Braden struggled with telling her the truth and letting her believe nothing else happened. “Nothing important.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” she said in a harsh tone. “Something did happen.”

“Let us just say we went a little farther than kissing.”