The first time Cassius Godwin ever laid eyes on Daphne Willoughby was when she was six days old. At seven and a half years old, he was not too interested in a baby when there were books about adventurers at hand. Besides, had she looked something like a tomato; round and a little red and far too small to be amusing.

Cassius tried his best to recall that tomato as a beautiful, regal woman descended the staircase into the ball below. Raven black hair done up in an elegant style made up of braids and twists, a golden headpiece at the center of her forehead, her doe eyes glimmering in the soft light of the lamps that lit the ballroom.

And her figure.

Voluptuous as a Grecian statue, plentiful curves that could bring a man to his knees, her hips flaring enticingly beneath the pastel pink fabric. In the two and a half years since Cassius had left for his tour of The Continent, it seemed that Daphne had finally shed the last vestiges of girlhood, blossoming into a young woman with lethal triumph.

Beside him, Robert Crenshaw took a swig of his champagne, a dark look across his face as he muttered something unintelligible. Beside him, his sister Jemma's expression grew disapproving. And Cassius could see why; for an unmarried young miss, only on her second season, the bold jewelry and the less-than-modest neckline were beyond the pale.

Unsurprisingly, she was immediately mobbed by a gaggle of eager swains and reprobates who made no secret of their admiration. And by the way Daphne was giggling and waving her fan, it seemed she was more than used to it. Young men, and some not so young, were basically lined up as she extended her card to one gentleman after the other.

"Aren't you glad, Robert, that you didn't marry that... well in respect of our company," she gave a sideways glace to Cassius, "let's say spirited woman, shall we?"

Cassius frowned, that urge to defend Daphne rising up as it always did.

"I don't think I take your meaning?" He scowled at the brother and sister but Jemma was busy conversing with her companion – Miss Sherrill- and Robert's disdainful gaze lingered upon Daphne's form, the distaste tinged with a wild sort of lust and possession.

"What Jemma is too polite to say is that woman is nothing but a shameless prick-tease," Robert's mouth curled into a sneer, but the covetousness in his gaze did not abate.

"Have a care, Robert!" Cassius snarled, unable to believe the vulgar words that had slipped through his tongue. "You speak of a young lady, not a Covent Garden whore. I will, just this once, excuse your behavior because you are clearly soused. Is that clear?"

"So she has you in her spell too?" Robert scoffed. "Don't worry, you'll see her true colors soon."

"Robert," Cassius snapped in irritation.

"That little tart does nothing more than string men along for her amusement," Robert pointed damningly to where she held court, one man rushing to fetch her lemonade, another doing his damned best to tell her an amusing story, and another trying to interrupt with his own amusing story. "Jemma heard her say she was holding out for a title, so all these plain Misters surrounding her are just an amusing way to pass the time."

"Daphne is hardly uncharitable like that."

"Oh? Ever since her youth she has enjoyed being the center of attention, that hasn't changed. Except now the attention isn't innocent, and she likes it," Robert rolled his shoulders in a dismissive gesture.

Before he could respond, he was interrupted by a feminine voice calling out his name. His entire body froze, and he battled the itch to pretend he hadn't heard her.

"There you are my darling, you look ever so dashing," his mother swept in with a flourish, pulling him into an embrace. She drew back and caressed his face, and inside him a strange sort of conflict arose. Even though he could not ever bring himself to forgive her for her deeds.....He had missed her, somehow, and enjoyed the motherly affection she was doling out. He had intentionally arrived in London before her so that he could take bachelor apartments; now that his father had stopped bothering coming to Town at all, he was sure she would be entertaining lovers at their main residence. He knew, of course, that he ought to have gone to greet her, their first meeting after two and a half years ought not to have been at another's ball. "All the traveling has made you even more handsome than you ever were."

He managed a tight smile and returned a stiff, inane compliment, and dropped an awkward kiss on her cheek. He allowed her to lead him on rounds, praise be to God, it seemed that his mother would be of use to him after all because after an hour or so had passed of her showing off her handsome son to the society matrons, she introduced him to the daughter of her old friend; Cassidy Lockhart.

The girl Cassius had planned to court.

Yes, that was the only reason that Cassius had even bothered to come back for The London Season when invitations to an archeological dig awaited him. He was now nearing seven-and-twenty, it was more than time for him to get married. He was tired of being alone, tired of not having a companion, tired of not having someone to talk to over dinner. His friends had been great companions these past year but......he wanted the kind of softness only a woman could bring into a man's life. He wanted to buy gifts for someone, and compliment them when they looked beautiful. To hold them, kiss them. Have a family, raise his children in a warm loving home where their parents were not too busy waging their own personal war to care about them.

Yes, he was going to get married. And unlike his father, he was going to choose correctly.

That was why he had meticulously cataloged every unmarried young woman who had made her debut in the last four years. He had investigated their families, their politics, their public images, their temperaments, their lineages, and any scandals and had arrived upon three names; Cassidy Lockhart was the most preferred of the three for she was slightly older, had an easygoing, mature demeanor, enjoyed reading and disliked society almost as much as he did. She had not enjoyed much attention during her first three seasons, and the fourth was going about as well as the rest. She dressed in drab colors, in designs that did not catch the eye, she was not overly friendly with anyone, nor did she seem over fond of champagne.

In summary, she was nothing like his mother. Which made her absolutely perfect.

A trill of laughter from his left caught his attention as Daphne allowed herself to be led on to the dance floor by one of her many admirers, and for a minute it seemed as if the world had slowed down while she curtsied to her partner. It felt as though Cassius was unwillingly logging every detail about her with his eyes; the shine of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, the radiance of her smile. The swell of her breasts over her bodice.

And in that moment Cassius would have sworn that a woman more beautiful than Daphne Willoughby had not existed. Though he was unaware, it was hardly the last time he would express such a sentiment against his own will.

Something Cassidy said jarred him out of his reverie, though he felt as if he had been roused out of slumber, feeling a little groggy and disoriented. He turned politely towards Cassidy, whose drab demeanor and appearance stood even more starkly now that he had seen Daphne. Daphne's unfettered vibrance, it seemed, made everything look dull in comparison.

Well, he was dull. He must not forget that.

A woman like Daphne was not for him.