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Katherine, who had been occupied with spreading strawberry preserves over honeyed bread, had glanced up and demanded to know what they were whispering about.
“Your sister is dissatisfied with the accommodations,” George had replied smoothly.
Cordelia had nearly choked upon her tea.
He had been in an exceptionally good humor ever since. Indeed, he was still smiling at the recollection as he sat before the pianoforte in the music room, the windows thrown open to admit the afternoon breeze. Earlier today, less than an hour after returning to London, he had called upon Cordelia at her family home and invited her to ride with him in Hyde Park, an invitation her beaming mother had readily accepted.
Until recently, George had never understood why gentlemen subjected themselves to the ritual of riding through the park with ladies they hoped to court. It had always struck him as a rather tedious undertaking, with little opportunity for genuine conversation and far too many curious eyes observing every exchange. Yet riding beside Cordelia had proved an altogether different experience. He could scarcely recall the trees, the passing carriages, or the fashionable acquaintances who had greeted them along the way. He remembered only the pleasure of her company, the animation of her lovely face, and the sound of her laughter that made him want to say something outrageous merely to hear it again.
She had eclipsed everything else that might have claimed his attention.
His fingers faltered upon the pianoforte keys as the windows were pushed open farther. George turned, a smile already curving his mouth and anticipation quickening his pulse. Sir Charles had not come calling, but his lover was still sneaking into his home.
A moment later, a familiar auburn head appeared above the sill. George watched with growing amusement as Cori gripped the window frame, hoisted herself onto the sill, and carefully swung one booted leg into the room, followed by the other. She steadied herself with a hand against the frame before dropping lightly to the floor. Straightening her coat, she turned toward him with such pleased anticipation that he immediately raised a brow.
She was clearly up to some mischief.
She wore snug-fitting trousers, polished Hessian boots, a white shirt with an elaborately tied cravat, and a dark blue coat tailored so closely to her figure that no one possessed of reasonable eyesight could possibly mistake her for a gentleman. A black half-mask concealed the upper portion of her face, but she had made no attempt whatsoever to hide her hair. Her auburn curls tumbled freely over her shoulders, reaching almost to her waist.
“Before you say anything,” she announced, holding up a finger, “I have come prepared for an adventure.”
“I can see that,” he said slowly, rising.
“An improper adventure.”
“That is rather more apparent. You are quite clearly a lady dressed in gentleman’s attire, preparing to enjoy an evening of questionable amusements about town. Most ladies attempting such a disguise would have worn a wig and taken greater pains to pass themselves off as gentlemen in every regard.”
She beamed. “I am not most people, and I knew you would understand.”
Thoroughly bemused, he asked, “Do I understand, Cori?”
“Of course.”
His gaze dropped to her legs before he could prevent himself, lingering upon the snug fit of her trousers.
She smiled. “Trousers are wonderfully comfortable, George. I cannot imagine why gentlemen should have the exclusive privilege of wearing them.”
“I see.” He lifted his gaze to her face. “And where, pray, is this improper adventure to take place?”
“I have decided I want to see Aphrodite in greater detail. The night I followed you there, I barely had a chance to explore before…” Even with her mask in place, he could see the blush warming her cheeks. “Well, before you distracted me.”
George considered refusing, but then recalled that several of his happily married friends had introduced their wives to Aphrodite without the slightest hesitation. He was not entirely certain whether Cori possessed the same adventurous sensibilities as those ladies, although, considering how frequently she stole into his life armed with her rapier, she might well prove the boldest of them all.
“You did not bring your rapier,” he observed softly.
She practically skipped across the room, slipped her arms around his neck, and peered up at him. “I have you to protect me. Why should I need it?”
An unfamiliar emotion tightened his chest as he stared down at her. “You trust me to protect you?”
Her mouth softened into a tender smile. “Yes.”
The simple certainty of her answer affected him more profoundly than he could have anticipated. She had entrusted him with her pleasure, her secrets, and now, apparently, her safety, without the slightest hesitation. For a man who had spent much of his life cultivating a reputation that encouraged others to expect the worst of him, her faith was a precious and rather humbling gift.
“What if Aphrodite shocks you so thoroughly that you decide to terminate my courtship?”
“I am not so easily persuaded away,” she replied softly.
He studied her for several moments, searching her lovely brown eyes before surrendering to the inevitable. “Very well. I shall take you with me tonight.”
