Page 42 of Why Do Rogues Fall in Love?

She clasped her gloved hands together, her voice dropping to an eager whisper. “Upon my word, Cori, I have heard so much about the viscount from my friends. They all speak of him with the greatest admiration. I am quite beside myself.”

The dowager marchioness’s hand rested lightly upon George’s arm as he guided her toward them. Conversation ebbed subtly in their wake. He cut a striking figure in black and white, the severity of his attire only heightening his presence. His midnight-black coat was perfectly tailored, emphasizing the broad line of his shoulders. At his throat, a pristine white cravat lay immaculately arranged, its brightness echoed by the crisp linen of his shirt. Against such deliberate restraint, the darkness of him seemed all the more pronounced.

He was devastatingly handsome.

Carnal.

The word came unbidden, startling Cordelia with its precision. Memories of their conversations over the past several evenings rose, wholly uninvited, to the forefront of her mind.

Good heavens!

In his music room, she had been free to speak and laugh without weighing every word against the demands of propriety, and he had seemed to delight in her company.

But this was not his music room. Here, beneath the blaze of chandeliers and surrounded by ladies of extraordinary beauty and consequence, he was Viscount Templeton, and she was merely Miss Cordelia Maubry, an overlooked wallflower whom society had long ago decided was of little interest.

Would he still find her fascinating? Would he still look at her with that piercing curiosity, or had such interest belonged only to the strange intimacy of their stolen hours? Worse, would he ignore her altogether and become, before her eyes, like everyone else?

The thought left Cordelia feeling exposed in a way she could scarcely endure.

The viscount and the dowager marchioness halted before them. Her mother fairly glowed, for never before had anyone of such illustrious standing shown the least interest in their family. Emelia smiled and tilted her head at precisely the angle that rendered her utterly ravishing. Lady Thornton stepped forward at once, smoothly assuming command of the introductions.

“Viscount Templeton, may I present Baroness Maubry,” she said graciously, “and her daughter, Miss Cordelia Maubry.”

The viscount bowed, elegant and precise. Cordelia’s mother curtsied at once, and Cordelia, flushing, followed a heartbeat later, lowering herself with careful grace.

Lady Thornton continued, “Miss Emelia Harcourt, cousin to Miss Maubry.”

Emelia smiled brightly and dipped into a most elegant curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you, my lord,” she said sweetly.

Lord Templeton returned her greeting with effortless civility before his gaze drifted back, unhurried and deliberate, to Cordelia, lingering there a fraction longer than etiquette strictly required. “Miss Maubry,” he said.

The familiarity of her name in his voice unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

“May I have the honor of claiming you for this next dance? I hear it will be the waltz.”

Emelia gasped. Her mother stiffened in visible astonishment. Their reactions stung. Mortification swept through Cordelia, hot and immediate, but she refused to let it master her.

He is asking me to dance.

She lifted her chin, meeting the viscount’s gaze with every ounce of composure she could summon. “I would be delighted, my lord.”

His fingers closed around hers, warm and certain. He guided her onto the floor as the music swelled, his hand settling at her waist with practiced ease.

As they took their place for the waltz, Cordelia lifted her gaze to his. “I fear I accepted too readily, my lord. My leg may prevent me from moving as quickly or as gracefully as everyone else.”

He held her gaze without the slightest flicker of surprise. “Then we shall move at your pace.”

A startled laugh escaped her. “You would let me lead?”

“If you wish it.”

“Surely everyone will remark that your lady partner led you in the waltz. I am certain it would be considered scandalous.”

“I have never been afraid of a little scandal. Have you?”

“I have not been sufficiently acquainted with scandal to know whether I ought to meet it with courage or fear.”

“It was your unflappable courage and charm that first attracted my attention. A little scandal would not affect you.”