Page 116 of Why Do Rogues Fall in Love?

The earl ignored her.

“Lady Bramwell’s father is a very influential figure in the House of Lords. He has already called upon me this morning, and I assured him that this matter would be resolved with an offer of marriage from you.”

George went very still. For a moment, the only sound in the study was the faint ticking of the clock upon the mantel. “You assured him of that?”

“Naturally.”

“Without consulting me?”

His father made an impatient gesture. “What is there to consult? You have compromised his daughter, and the honorable course is perfectly clear. I know you have always maintained that you wished to wait several more years before marrying, but this damned scandal has put an end to such foolish notions. You cannot afford to delay any longer.”

George regarded him steadily. “I did not compromise Lady Bramwell.”

His father gave a harsh laugh. “Does that matter?”

“Rather considerably, I should think.”

“Do not be insolent, George. I have my own sources, and they have confirmed that you were discovered alone with the lady in a private room. Her clothing was in disarray, and several respectable witnesses observed the compromising circumstances. That is quite sufficient to necessitate a marriage.”

George's jaw tightened. “You appear to have overlooked the fact that I was drugged.”

His father dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand. “So you claim.”

George stared at him. The words struck with an unexpected force, although he was careful to allow none of his reaction to show. “So I claim,” he repeated softly.

“If you consumed more than was prudent, you must accept responsibility for your conduct.”

“His physician has confirmed that something was administered to him,” his mother said sharply. “And you can see for yourself that he is still unwell.”

“That does not alter the fact that he was discovered with Lady Bramwell.”

George looked at his mother, whose expression had grown increasingly distressed, then returned his attention to the earl. “Perhaps you might permit me to explain what actually occurred.”

“I know precisely what occurred. You chose to conduct yourself like a libertine and found yourself alone with a lady of quality in a room where you had no business being. That you were discovered is entirely the consequence of your own poor judgment.”

George remained silent for several moments. He had long understood that his father possessed a particular talent for believing the worst of him. The earl had never approved of his independence, his friendships, or his refusal to arrange his life according to the expectations of the family. George had learned years ago that presenting a composed and faintly amused countenance was considerably more effective than allowing himself to be drawn into one of their interminable arguments.

Yet something about this accusation cut more deeply than he cared to admit. Perhaps it was because he had come so close to losing Cordelia. Perhaps it was because he still remembered her face when she entered that library, the terrible hurt in her eyes, and the sound of her voice when she asked how he could have betrayed her.

He had been unable to explain himself. Indeed, he had scarcely understood where he was, much less how Lady Victoria had come to be sprawled atop him.

But he remembered Cordelia returning.

He remembered the warmth of her small body beneath his arm, the determined way she had supported his weight, and the quiet conviction in her voice when she told him she knew he had not betrayed her. Even through the dreadful confusion clouding his mind, he had understood the significance of her words.

She had believed in him.

And she had come back.

George uncrossed his legs and leaned forward slightly. “In one regard, you are wrong, Father.”

The earl's brows drew together.

"Indeed?"

"I have been thinking about marrying this year."

His mother straightened upon the sofa.