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He behaved as an honorable gentleman, and therein lay the most maddening part of the entire affair. For Cordelia had seen what became of women who placed their faith in charming men. Her sister’s unhappy marriage stood as a painful reminder that affection, however ardently professed, offered no guarantee of constancy. A gentleman might employ every persuasive charm at his disposal to win a woman’s heart, only to reveal, once he possessed it, that he had never understood the value of what she had entrusted to his keeping.

Perhaps rogues ought never to fall in love, or even attempt to persuade a woman that they were capable of it.

What if George proved to be such a man? The dreadful truth was that she did not know him nearly as well as she had believed!

When Cordelia had informed her father that she did not wish to accept Lord Templeton’s courtship, he had sighed heavily and, at last, confessed the truth.

The family’s coffers were nearly empty. Their estates were burdened with debts, and he lacked the influence within the ton to secure a loan sufficient to relieve their difficulties. A marriage between Cordelia and Viscount Templeton would establish a connection with one of the most influential families in society and, her father hoped, spare them financial ruin.

He had admitted, with evident discomfort, that he and her mother had concealed the severity of their circumstances because they had not wished to burden her. Particularly, he had confessed, when they had scarcely dared hope that a gentleman of such consequence would seek her hand.

The admission had wounded Cordelia more deeply than she cared to acknowledge.

Her mother’s sigh recalled her to the present.

“My dear, I have seen the way the viscount looks at you, and I have seen you return that look. I do not urge you to consider him solely for our family’s sake. I want you to have a home and family of your own, and above all, I wish you to be happy.”

Cordelia exhaled slowly and sank into a nearby chair, suddenly weary of pacing and of the troubling thoughts that had tormented her since the previous evening.

“I do not know what manner of man he truly is, Mama.”

“Then allow yourself to discover it,” her mother replied gently. “Permit him to court you. That is precisely the purpose of courtship, my dear. You cannot expect to learn everything there is to know about a gentleman before granting him the opportunity to make himself known to you.” She smiled faintly. “Indeed, there are still things I discover about your father, even after thirty years of marriage.”

A lump rising in her throat, Cordelia excused herself and retreated to the library, a room in which she had always found comfort. There, she selected a gothic romance from the shelves, hoping its pages might distract her from the uncertainty weighing upon her heart. Perhaps it was time to consider matters more carefully, for surely there must be a way to protect her heart while allowing herself the possibility of a happiness she had believed, only a few weeks ago, was no longer within her reach.

Cordelia sat upon the windowsill in the smaller sitting room, watching a pair of birds flutter about the stone fountain in the garden below. Her forehead rested against the cool glass, and every so often, her gaze strayed toward the wall that separated their townhouse from the viscount’s residence.

Over the past few days, the viscount had sent Cordelia several notes. One invited her to walk with him in Hyde Park. Another suggested that she call upon him to retrieve Sir Charles and enjoy a game of chess. A third proposed a picnic at Hampstead Heath, with his mother accompanying them.

None of those invitations offered the clarity Cordelia sought.

A promenade in Hyde Park was little more than a performance, where ladies and gentlemen paraded to be admired, exchanged gossip, and displayed their finery and fashionable equipages. An outing with his mother would reveal only the polished, dutiful gentleman he presented to his family and society.

And visiting him alone, yet again, was entirely out of the question.

She could not trust herself to be alone with George. She had little doubt that he could seduce her with a skill born of considerable experience, and the knowledge that she might willingly surrender to his persuasion was truly unsettling. She had only to remember the astonishing liberties she had permitted him at Aphrodite for her cheeks to grow warm and her thoughts to become thoroughly disordered.

The door to the sitting room opened, and without turning, she knew it was her mother. She heard the soft rustle of skirts, followed by a sigh.

“If you do not share your thoughts, my dear, I cannot hope to guide you. You have been burying your feelings in novels for the last few days, and I fear that will not help matters.”

Cordelia lifted her forehead from the windowpane and shifted to face her mother. “I…” She parted her lips, but the words remained stubbornly lodged in her throat.

Her mother regarded her thoughtfully, then crossed the room and settled into a nearby chair. “Why are you wearing that obstinate expression? What is it that you fear?”

Cordelia looked down at her hands. “I have no notion whether I should find happiness with him or whether I would endure the same daily heartbreak that Katherine has suffered. My sister is a shell of her former vivacious self. She cherished her husband, and he broke her heart.” Her voice softened. “I do not believe I could bear such unhappiness, Mama. Not if I loved him.”

Her mother's expression grew troubled, and for a moment, she said nothing.

“I understand why Katherine's circumstances have frightened you,” she said at last. “No mother wishes to see one daughter endure such misery, much less have another fear that the same fate awaits her.”

“Then surely you must understand why I hesitate.”

“Of course I do, my dear. But I also fear you have begun to look upon every gentleman through the lens of your sister’s unhappiness. Lord Templeton is not Katherine’s husband, however similar their reputations may have been.”

“Yet how am I to know he will not become precisely such a husband?”

“That is a question no young lady can answer with complete certainty before marriage. Indeed, it is one no woman can answer, however carefully she has chosen.”