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Lord Moreland shook his head, slowly and with resignation. “And perhaps you can enlighten me on how you came to compromise a young lady of the ton in the first place. Your mother is not wrong. It is hardly the standard of conduct with which you were raised. The line between honor and indiscretion was never blurred in this household.”

Aidan braced himself, lifting his chin. “I lost my head,” he admitted, boldly meeting his father’s eyes.

Lord Moreland studied him intently, his own sharp eyes assessing. The familial resemblance between them was unmistakable. Cut from the same cloth, yet Aidan bore his mother’s warmer hues. For a fleeting second, he imagined a future son—bearing Gwen’s flame-colored hair, her sapphire gaze—running through the halls of Moreland House.

“You do not usually lose your head over women,” his father noted, more statement than question.

“I do not usually meet women like Gwen,” Aidan replied quietly, with a conviction that silenced further inquiry.

Lord Moreland’s features relaxed by the smallest degree, though his voice remained deliberate. “So this young woman has made an impression, then?”

Aidan immediately bobbed his head in assent. “She is Venus, with the mind of a scholar.”

Lord Moreland tilted his head, clearly bemused. “And how exactly did you compromise her? I would appreciate the particulars, considering half of London will be nattering of it by breakfast.”

Aidan swallowed. “I … we … I was embracing her …” He paused, vividly recalling how Gwen had confessed the details the night before in near-identical fashion. “My hands were on her … posterior. And we were … kissing. Passionately.”

He might as well have admitted to pinching a goose in the market square. It was mortifying, like a schoolboy caught licking icing from the pantry bowl rather than the actions of a man of five and twenty, university-educated and well-traveled.

Lord Moreland groaned and dragged his large hands over his dismayed face. “That is damning,” he muttered, his voice muffled by his palms. “And out of character?”

The final word carried weight. A question, but also a challenge.

Aidan squirmed, shifting uncomfortably in his chair as he searched for the words to explain behavior so unlike his usual reserve. “I was overcome. She was radiant in the moonlight. And when I quoted Manilius, she responded in kind.”

His father’s brows lifted a fraction. “She sounds … unusual.”

Gwen was unusual. She was extraordinary. A blazing comet against the staid sky of ton femininity. “She is,” Aidan said softly, the corners of his lips curving into an involuntary smile. His thoughts, as ever, trailed down paths of memory to her fascinated gaze, the feel of her pressed close in the night.

Lord Moreland leaned forward, fingers steepled. “And her father may have murdered a peer to secure an inheritance?”

Aidan groaned and dropped his head back. “I know. What have I done?”

“I am not entirely certain,” his father replied, his tone dry. “The one fact presently clear is that we have a marriage contract to negotiate. It would be best,” he added, “if you did not uncover conclusive evidence of Mr. Smythe’s guilt until after the wedding.”

Aidan’s head whipped up. “You would prefer I delay an arrest?”

“I would prefer not to deliver fresh trauma to your mother in one fell blow. She requires time to recover from Lily’s ordeal.” He waved a hand as though to banish further discussion on the point. “First the wedding. Then the arrest. Not both at once.”

Aidan considered this, then nodded. “I can refrain from investigating Mr. Smythe until after the ceremony.”

Lord Moreland inclined his head. “Good. It must be soon, of course. The scandal will already be racing through Mayfair.”

“You support my decision?”

“The lady’s circumstances do not signify,” his father said quietly. “You must act with honor. You ruined an innocent woman, and that action carries consequences. You are my son, and I shall support you through them.”

The words rang with the weight of legacy. Aidan, who had spent his life emulating his father’s measured dignity and quiet strength, felt their significance to his very bones.

“I am sorry,” he said, “to bring shame upon our family.”

“You have always been a son to be proud of,” Lord Moreland said, his voice softening. “I must believe this young woman is indeed remarkable, or you would not be in this position.”

Aidan’s expression lightened. “She is bewitching.”

His father raked a hand through the thick dark hair they shared. He was already retreating into strategy. “Perhaps, after the wedding, your mother and I shall retire to the country. If an arrest is made, we would be wise to remove ourselves from town.”

Aidan nodded. “And Gwen as well. I would not have her caught in the chaos.”