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Cordelia could not answer.

She continued staring at George, desperately searching his face for some sign that what she had witnessed was not what it appeared to be.

Surely he would explain.

Surely he would look horrified that she had found him in such a position.

Surely the man who had kissed her so tenderly the previous night could not now regard her with such indifference.

“How could you, George?” The words emerged as little more than a broken whisper.

He frowned. For the first time, something seemed to disturb the strange blankness of his expression. He made an effort to sit upright, then attempted to stand, but his movements were unsteady, and he wobbled before catching himself against the chaise.

“Cori…” he said with a groan, pressing a hand against his forehead.

“He is drunk, too,” Katherine snapped, her voice ringing with condemnation.

Cordelia stared at him for another agonizing moment. She wanted to scream at him, to demand that he explain why he had made her believe she meant something precious to him when he could so easily turn to another woman. She wanted to ask whether anything between them had been real, whether the happiness that had filled her heart only an hour ago had been nothing more than a beautiful illusion.

But the words would not come.

The sight of him was unbearable.

With a strangled sob, Cordelia whirled around and fled the room. She scarcely knew where she was going as she hurried down the corridor, her vision blurred by tears. The music from the ballroom grew louder with every step, its cheerful notes seeming almost cruel in their indifference to the devastation unfolding inside her. She pressed a trembling hand against her mouth, desperate to smother the sobs threatening to escape.

How could he have betrayed her so?

Cordelia hurried down the corridor, her slippers whispering against the thick carpet as she struggled to contain the sobs rising in her throat. She wiped her wet cheeks with the backs of her gloved hands, scarcely caring that she might ruin the delicate silk. Her heart ached so fiercely that she could hardly breathe, and she wanted nothing more than to escape the house before anyone witnessed her humiliation.

How could George have done this to her?

She had given him her heart, her trust, and every tender hope she had ever cherished for her future. Only last night, he had held her so lovingly, speaking of their marriage with a quiet certainty that had made her believe there could never be another woman for him.

And now she had found Lady Victoria in his arms.

Cordelia pressed her trembling fingers against her lips as another sob threatened to escape.

Yet even as the terrible image returned to torment her, another thought intruded upon her misery.

George.

Not the man she had just seen sprawled upon that chaise longue, but the George she knew.

The man who had always treated her with such extraordinary kindness, even when he had no reason to do so. The man whose generosity extended far beyond the obligations of his title and position, who gave so freely of himself without ever seeking admiration or gratitude in return. She thought of his honor, of the quiet principles by which he lived, and the consideration he showed to those who could offer him nothing in return.

He was not a man who made promises lightly.

Nor was he a man who would deliberately wound someone he cared for.

She remembered the countless little kindnesses that had drawn her to him long before she had understood the depth of her feelings. The way he listened when she spoke, even when she was being perfectly ridiculous. His patience with her questions, his willingness to indulge her curiosity, and the warmth of his laughter when she said something that amused him. He had never made her feel foolish for being herself, and there had been moments when the gentleness of his regard had touched her so deeply that she could scarcely look at him without betraying her affection.

That was the man she had fallen in love with.

A man who was honorable, considerate, and kind.

A man who had never once given her reason to doubt his integrity.

And yet, when she had entered that library, he had looked at her as though she were a stranger.