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Curiosity overcame her hesitation. Moving with deliberate care, she crossed the floor and slipped behind the drapes.

Her breath caught.

The chamber beyond was vast, its every furnishing seemingly chosen to encourage indulgence. Generously cushioned chaise longues, upholstered in jewel-toned velvets, were arranged in intimate clusters. Gilded paneling lined the walls, reflecting the candlelight in warm, liquid gleams, while thick damask curtains framed alcoves along the perimeter, affording their occupants a measure of privacy without entirely concealing them.

And upon the ceiling were mirrors.

Cordelia’s gaze lifted involuntarily, only to drop again as heat rushed to her cheeks. At the center of the chamber stood a raised dais swathed in red silk, its rumpled fabric barely visible beneath the couples entwined upon it. Several gentlemen of the ton, some instantly recognizable without their masks, were engaged with courtesans in displays of intimacy so astonishingly open that Cordelia scarcely knew where to look. Hands wandered over exposed flesh, mouths met in lingering kisses, and the occasional breathless moan rose above the music.

A peculiar tightness gathered in her chest.

What was this place?

How could gentlemen who bowed so elegantly at balls, who spoke of honor, refinement, and proper conduct, abandon every semblance of restraint behind these walls? Men who would consider it scandalous for an unmarried lady to be discovered alone with a gentleman were here indulging their appetites before an entire room of spectators.

Her first instinct was to retreat.

And yet she remained where she stood.

For all her astonishment, Cordelia could not honestly claim to be repulsed. Indeed, realizing she was fascinated by what she witnessed was almost as shocking as the spectacle itself.

She had never imagined such a world existed, where men and women expressed their desires without embarrassment or concealment. Her gaze wandered despite herself, drawn to the women’s easy confidence and the unmistakable pleasure of their companions. There was something bewildering about seeing intimacies she had only vaguely contemplated enacted so freely before her eyes. She wondered what it might feel like to be kissed with such abandon, to have a gentleman desire her so completely that he forgot everything but the woman in his arms.

The thought brought George unbidden into her mind, and Cordelia felt her cheeks grow hotter still.

Good heavens. She had not come here to indulge in wicked imaginings of her own!

She backed slowly from the chamber, the heavy curtain brushing against her shoulder as she emerged into the adjoining room. Her heart was racing, though whether from alarm or excitement, she could scarcely have said. If this was the world George entered so readily, she was more determined than ever to discover how he conducted himself within it.

Am I being terribly foolish?

Almost certainly.

Nevertheless, Cordelia ventured deeper into Aphrodite, eventually discovering a staircase leading to the upper floor. She ascended with measured steps, one hand grazing the banister as the sounds below gradually softened into a distant murmur of laughter, conversation, and music.

The corridor above was quieter, its walls adorned with paintings that were scarcely less provocative than the scenes she had witnessed downstairs. Several doors stood closed, and from somewhere beyond them came the faint sound of feminine laughter. Cordelia had just begun to wonder whether she ought to turn back when a door opened farther along the passage.

She froze.

Viscount Templeton stood upon the threshold, one hand braced against the doorframe as a lady emerged from the chamber.

Good heavens, the woman was ravishing. Her hair spilled in loose waves over her bare shoulders, and she wore a sheer red peignoir that revealed rather more of her magnificent figure than it concealed. She said something to George that Cordelia could not hear, then gave a soft, intimate laugh before moving away.

An unwelcome ache tightened Cordelia’s chest.

Had he just concluded a dalliance with her?

Before she could recover from that possibility, another woman approached him, equally beautiful and scarcely more clothed. Cordelia watched in dismay as the lady paused before his door, apparently seeking his attention. What had she expected to find here? She had followed a gentleman notorious for his wickedness into a pleasure palace, determined to discover the truth of his conduct, yet now that she was confronted with it, she could scarcely bear to look.

She ought to leave before he discovered her.

Cordelia turned, intending to retreat, when the second woman spoke.

“Madam Rebecca,” she said, shaking her head as George’s door closed behind her. “That makes the fourth of us he has turned away. Perhaps you might fare better?”

Cordelia stopped.

The fourth?