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Cordelia’s attention sharpened. “Masks?”

“Yes. I suppose it allows people to behave in ways they would never dare if anyone knew who they were.”

A most extraordinary thought took hold of Cordelia. If ladies attended Aphrodite in disguise, might it be possible for her to do the same? She could hardly believe she was contemplating such a thing. Entering a gentleman's home through an open window was one matter, but deliberately setting foot inside a notorious pleasure palace was quite another. The very notion ought to have horrified her.

And it did.

Yet beneath her alarm stirred an insistent curiosity. What was George truly like when he believed himself free from the expectations of polite society? Was the man she had come to know merely one agreeable facet of his character, while another, far less honorable gentleman emerged behind the doors of Aphrodite?

She wanted to understand how both could exist within the same man. But even supposing she possessed the courage to venture there, how would she manage it? She knew nothing of the establishment beyond its name, had no notion of how one gained admittance, and certainly owned nothing resembling the sort of mask Emelia described.

Nor could she possibly go alone.

Good heavens, Cordelia. You cannot seriously be considering this.

She hastened to school her expression before her cousin noticed the outrageous direction of her thoughts. “Thank you for telling me, Emelia.”

Her cousin regarded her curiously. “You are taking this rather calmly.”

“I assure you, I am not feeling particularly calm.”

“I should think not. Though I must confess, I was rather astonished myself. One hears whispers that gentlemen have their amusements, but I had never imagined there were entire palaces devoted to them.”

Cordelia could not help wondering how much of the tale had been embellished as it passed from Lord Fairchild to Lady Prudence and finally to Emelia. Society possessed a remarkable talent for transforming the smallest indiscretion into a scandal of magnificent proportions. Yet she could hardly dismiss the information merely because she disliked what it suggested.

“There is one other matter,” Emelia said, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

Cordelia regarded her warily. “What?”

“I had almost forgotten, though perhaps I ought not to mention it.”

“Having told me about Aphrodite, I cannot imagine what you might consider too shocking to repeat.”

“Well, this is rather different.” Emelia hesitated. “I also heard that Lady Victoria Bramwell has formed an attachment to Lord Templeton. Some believe he may soon make her an offer.”

A cold sensation settled in Cordelia's chest. “The viscountess?”

“Yes. Though I cannot say whether there is any truth to it.”

Good heavens, how many women was the man associated with?

Worse, Cordelia knew Lady Bramwell, though not particularly well. The widowed viscountess was one of Katherine’s dearest friends. They had made their debuts in the same Season and married within the same year. If anyone could shed light upon the nature of Lady Bramwell's attachment to Lord Templeton, it would be her sister.

Cordelia spent the remainder of the afternoon in something of a daze, scarcely able to concentrate upon anything after Emelia’s astonishing revelations. That evening, she accompanied her mother, cousin, and Philip to a soirée, but found little enjoyment in the music or conversation, her thoughts returning incessantly to everything she had learned about Lord Templeton.

By the time they returned home, however, her mind was firmly made up. She knew precisely what she intended to do, outrageous though it was. But first, she needed to write to Katherine. Retreating to her bedchamber, Cordelia settled at her writing desk and drew a fresh sheet of paper toward her. She took considerable care with her phrasing, making what she hoped would appear to be a casual inquiry concerning Lady Bramwell and whether Katherine had heard anything of a possible attachment to Viscount Templeton.

After reading the letter twice, however, she suspected her sister might discern rather more than she intended. Nevertheless, she sealed it and carried it downstairs, placing it with the other letters awaiting dispatch the following morning. Only then did she return to her bedchamber and prepare for bed.

As Cordelia slipped beneath the covers, she found herself thinking once more of Aphrodite, of masked ladies and private chambers, and of George moving through that forbidden world with the same easy confidence he displayed everywhere else. She wished most fervently that she could banish him from her thoughts, but the more she learned about him, the more questions she seemed to have. And what troubled her most was that, despite everything she had discovered, some foolish part of her still longed to see him again.

CHAPTER 15

Cordelia spent the better part of two hours working with single-minded determination, sacrificing two of her favorite hats without the slightest remorse. She carefully removed, trimmed, and reshaped their feathers, cut and stitched fabric, and repurposed ribbons until, at last, she held her finished creation before her.

Studying her reflection in the looking glass, Cordelia felt a little thrill of satisfaction. The mask was surprisingly elegant. It concealed the upper half of her face, while graceful plumes arched outward from the corners, drawing attention away from her features. She rather fancied that even someone acquainted with her might struggle to recognize her beneath it.

Not that she expected to encounter anyone she knew at such an establishment.