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Of course, she supposed it was entirely possible that some members of the ton had heard of Katherine’s husband’s indiscretions. Yet even if they knew the unhappy particulars, a married gentleman keeping a mistress seemed to be regarded as such a commonplace occurrence that society scarcely considered it worthy of strict condemnation.
The injustice of it made Cordelia’s heart ache.
A wife was expected to endure such humiliations with dignity, to smile through her husband's betrayals and pretend that her marriage remained perfectly respectable. The husband, meanwhile, might continue his pleasures without suffering any meaningful consequence.
Cordelia could not imagine how Katherine bore it.
Her sister had always possessed such a gentle, hopeful nature, and Cordelia was distressed to see the sadness that now seemed to linger behind her smiles. She wished desperately that there were something she could do to relieve Katherine's unhappiness, some way to restore the bright, carefree woman she remembered.
Katherine reached her and immediately caught both her hands.
“You are having a good time,” she observed softly.
Cordelia laughed, unable to contain her happiness. “Oh, yes. A most wonderful time. And you, Katherine? Are you enjoying yourself?”
Her sister hesitated. Only then did Cordelia notice the peculiar tension in her expression. Katherine's smile faded, and she glanced over her shoulder before returning her troubled gaze to Cordelia.
“Katherine?” Cordelia gently squeezed her hands. “What is the matter?”
“I…” Her sister swallowed.
Cordelia was startled to see tears gathering in her eyes.
“Cori, there is something I must tell you, although I scarcely know how.”
A small, unpleasant sensation stirred beneath Cordelia's ribs. “What is it?”
“I saw something earlier, and I do not want to hurt you by revealing what I witnessed.”
Cordelia's smile slowly disappeared. “Something? What do you mean?”
Katherine glanced toward the ballroom doors. “I think it would be better if I show you.”
“Show me what?”
“Please, Cori. Come with me.”
There was something so profoundly unhappy in her sister’s voice that Cordelia felt the first true stirrings of alarm. She searched Katherine’s face, hoping to discover some explanation for her distress, but the tears glistening in her gaze only deepened Cordelia's unease.
“Very well,” she whispered.
Katherine slipped an arm through hers and guided her away from the crowded ballroom.
The change in atmosphere was immediate. Laughter and conversation faded behind them as they entered a long corridor lit by wall sconces. Their slippers whispered over the thick carpet, and the distant strains of a country dance followed them through the closed doors. Cordelia glanced at her sister several times, but Katherine appeared so distressed that she could not bring herself to press her for an explanation.
Still, a strange dread was gathering inside her. They passed several closed doors before Katherine slowed near the end of the passageway. She stopped before a handsome mahogany door, its brass handle gleaming in the candlelight.
Cordelia looked at it with a puzzled frown. Given how remarkably alike so many London townhouses were, she presumed the room beyond was a library. It occupied precisely the position where one might expect to find such a chamber, away from the noise and bustle of the principal entertaining rooms.
“Katherine, why have you brought me here?”
Her sister's fingers tightened around hers.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered.
Before Cordelia could ask what she meant, Katherine opened the door. Cordelia followed her inside and came to a staggering halt. For one dreadful moment, she could not comprehend what she was seeing. The room was indeed a library, its walls lined with bookshelves and its hearth occupied by a cheerful fire. The flickering flames cast a warm, intimate glow across the furnishings, illuminating a chaise longue positioned near the fireplace.
And upon that chaise lay George.
