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amounted to little more than a business transaction. He would exchange money for respect and finally gain the entrance into the highest levels of society that had thus far been unattainable by George.
    Camden knew what he must do, and yet the prospect of such a marriage, of such a cold and loveless life, filled him with dread. He had seen it first hand, had witnessed how decades of empty duty and barely veiled contempt of each spouse for the other had weakened and finally ravaged his mother, ultimately sending her to her grave a few years back.
    He didn’t want that.
    He wanted more, though he had never given himself leave to entertain what
more
would even look like.
    “You are never to see that woman, nor any other person such as her, again.”
    Camden opened his mouth to give the expected words of acquiescence, but then stopped himself. He was flooded with images of Del. Of her running through the darkened streets, breathless and mysterious and beautiful. Of her walking in the park with him, teasing him with jests and shocking him with honesty until he felt the mortifying blush of embarrassment flush his cheeks. Del at the theater, her lovely face softly lit by the glow from the footlights as she raptly watched the performance. How her entire countenance lit up with mirth as she laughed along with the crowd. How afterward she had surprised him with astute commentary on the social and gender implications of the play. He thought of all this, and he knew he couldn’t make any promises to his father.
    He wouldn’t be able to stay away from her.
    Camden brought his gaze to meet his father’s, saw how red and mottled his face had become. He knew there was a rage building in his father that would soon boil over, and still he couldn’t force himself to say the words that would stem the angry tide.
    “What is wrong you, boy?” George’s voice cracked slightly and Camden knew he was barely hanging on to his control. “What possible charms could this whore possess that make you even think of defying me and destroying everything I have worked so hard to build?”
    Though phrased as a question, Camden knew his father’s words were meant to be an accusation, not an inquiry. The man had no real interest in what made Del so intriguing, but Camden found himself wanting to try to explain it to him anyway. What could he say, though? How could he make his father understand what made Del so different? She was extremely intelligent, wholly independent, and so completely without pretense that it quite literally took his breath away at times. How could he phrase it so it would make sense to his father? Camden wasn’t sure George even understood the concepts of independence or disregard for social intrigue and machinations.
    “She is — different from any person I have ever met,” Camden said.
    George’s eyes bulged, and Camden knew he was both surprised and enraged that Camden had actually tried to explain himself. “Different?” George shouted. “
Different
? You would squander our fortunes and reputation on the childish notion that this whore is somehow
different
? Let me tell you something, boy, there is nothing special about her. Nothing. She is nothing more than a common whore that can be bought of any street of London.”
    “She’s not a common whore,” Camden said as he began to rise from his seat. “She’s — ”
    “
Enough!
” George yelled as he slammed his hands down on Camden’s desk. Camden instinctively sat back down, hardly aware of what he was doing. “I am through speaking with you on this matter. It is over. No more. You are not to see her again. Ever.”
    Camden looked down at the papers scattered across his desk and said nothing.
    “Do you understand? Never again. Hear me?”
    “Yes,” Camden and though he was defiant, he was still not ready to give voice to his complete thought.
Yes, I hear you, but I make no such promises
.
    George glared at him for several seconds, and Camden felt the heat and