"Pooh!" Esme said. "She's no lady!"

Helene was silent. The awkward truth was that she was only beginning to feel pricks of jealousy now. And they didn't have anything to do with the fact Lina was sleeping in the vicinity of Rees, either. It was her voice. She had music.

"I told Sebastian about Rees keeping his mistress in your bedchamber regardless of your presence in the house," Esme was saying, "and he said that if you would like him to draw Rees's cork or worse, he'd be happy to do so."

Gina was nodding. "I haven't told Cam, because he hasn't the self-control. He would set off immediately to pummel Rees. But just let me know."

"No, no!" Helene said alarmed. "Rees is going to be the father of my child. Besides, that would lead to someone finding out where I am. Harries has been informing all callers that I am taking the waters in Bath." She turned a little pink. "Apparently the Earl of Mayne has called seven times."

"Didn't you get the note I forwarded to you?" Gina said, with an impish grin.

"Yes, and I brought it with me," Helene said, pulling a note from her reticule. "Listen to this: I understand you are in seclusion, perhaps for as long as six weeks. Surely you are in need of diversion? I am entirely at your service."

"What a shame you can't meet Mayne," Gina said. "It must be utterly deflating to be in the same room with the opera singer, if she's all that exquisite. Mayne only stayed in the garden with me for a few minutes, while requesting your address, but I will admit that his compliments were quite amusing."

"The man has exquisite finesse in all areas, including the bedroom," Esme put in. "So Helene, have things improved at all on that front in the past nine years?"

Helene blinked. She had never gotten used to Esme's frank discussion of matters that she had been brought up to ignore. "I've told Rees, as per your instructions, that we have to do it every day, and he doesn't seem to find the prospect too insufferable." Then she remembered something. "His mistress made a joke out of his only needing seven minutes of time with me."

"You and she are joking together?" Esme said, clearly stupefied.

Helene felt a flash of embarrassment. "I was rather inebriated at the time."

Gina patted her knee. "If I were you, I would stay inebriated for the entire month," she said. "And if Rees's mistress is cracking jokes about his poor performance in bed, I think we can assume that his abilities are not going to improve in the next few weeks. It's a true shame you can't carry on a flirtation with Mayne. At least he would keep your spirits up."

"I don't see why I can't meet him if I wish to," Helene said.

"It's not worth the risk," Esme said. "You would be worse than ruined if anyone discovered the truth. I really can't imagine the scandal."

"I'll think about it," Helene said, unconvinced. She was not truly interested in a flirtation with Mayne, but whenever she thought about Lina's voice it gave her a queasy sensation... perhaps a few of Mayne's practiced compliments would restore her confidence. "Are you both free to make up a party to Vauxhall this evening?"

"Alas, no," Gina said with real regret. "Cam and I are dining with a delegation from Oxford. I'm certain it will be excruciatingly tedious, but Thomas Bradfellow from Christ Church is making my brother a professor, so we couldn't possibly miss it."

"I'll come!" Esme said. "I wouldn't miss a closer look at Rees's strumpet for the world. No one even knows what she looks like, you know. Naturally, we've all heard about her, but who has actually seen her? I do believe that her brief appearance at the opera with Rees-and that was some two years ago now-was the first and last time he paraded her before the ton."

"She will be wearing a loo mask and domino," Helene pointed out. "I'm not sure how much you'll observe. But thank you for coming, Esme. Somehow the idea of the four of us forming a party seemed uncomfortably intimate."

"How is Rees's brother holding up, then?" Gina said. "I find it hard to believe that a vicar countenances the presence of a fallen woman, let alone escorts her to Vauxhall."

"This is the oddest thing I have ever heard of," Esme said, sitting back with an utterly fascinated expression. "And it certainly will be the most scandalous evening in which I have participated-and that in a long and misspent life. Who would have thought that our docile Helene would be party to a dissipated revel of this nature?"

Chapter Twenty-eight.

Secret Flirtations Are by Far the Most Potent.

Mayne turned over the little billet doux with a feeling of potent satisfaction. It was a prim and proper white; it was not perfumed; it had no air at all of assignation. Why he should feel an overwhelming relief on receiving it, he didn't know. Probably had something to do with his sister lowering the boom on his head with her lecture about marriage.

Griselda was right, of course. He had to marry. But not until he had satisfied himself with the delicate body of Lady Godwin. He couldn't even imagine flirting with another woman until he sated himself with her.

The moment when an exquisitely dressed gentleman ambles from a closed, unmarked carriage to a hackney is so common in Hyde Park as to be unnoticeable. Mayne strolled over, knowing perfectly well that she was watching him from one of the little windows, likely savoring his strong legs. He was wearing pantaloons that were not quite in the newest fashion, as he found that ladies responded much better to the tight, knitted styles of last year. Not so out of date as to make him ridiculous... but enticing enough to make him appetizing.

To his surprise, when he paused in the door of the carriage, Helene was not peeking out the window. Instead, she was frowning down at what appeared to be a musical score. It wasn't until Mayne sat down opposite her and signaled the footman to close the door that she looked up.

Her reaction was all the more gratifying when she took in his elegance. Her eyes widened, just perceptibly. For his part, Mayne suddenly remembered that while he liked the look of stockinet pantaloons, they were damned uncomfortable when he encountered a beautiful woman. Helene was wearing a gown similar to what she had worn to Lady Hamilton's ball, even if it was designed for the daytime. And, significantly, she had taken off her pelisse. It lay beside her.

"It is indeed a pleasure to see you," he said. "I am particularly gratified, knowing that you are in seclusion from the rest of society."

Helene looked at him a little uncertainly. Seeing Mayne in the light of day, it seemed unlikely that such a man would wish to spend any time at all with her, let alone pay her compliments. "I do greatly desire to keep my presence in London undisclosed," she said.

The smile on his lips seemed to promise all sorts of things.

"I hope never to disappoint you in any way," he said softly, picking up her hand and putting a kiss on her palm.

Goodness! Helene had a sudden wish to fan herself with the musical score she held. Rees thought she had merely gone for an aimless carriage ride around London, and had thrown a score at her. Naturally, he could not countenance any time lost that could be spent working.

"Shall we drive into the country?" Mayne asked, his deep voice rolling over her like the finest chocolate sauce.

"I don't think we have time for that," she said rather nervously. "I must be back for supper, you see. I'm going to Vauxhall tonight."

"How interesting," he murmured. "With whom are you staying?" he said, turning her hand over and examining it closely, as if looking for guidance. She said nothing. "Your hands are exquisite," he continued. "I know I told you that before, but..." He started kissing the tips of every finger.

Helene rather liked it. She put the score to the side. Truly, Mayne was very delicate in his approach.

"I would very much like to pay you a call," he said silkily, "if circumstances allow."

"Unfortunately, they do not," she said firmly.

He was kissing her fingertips. "Because you are staying in your husband's house?"

Helene gasped. "How do you know that?"

"Are you reconciled?" Mayne asked. "You see, I ask only the questions that have relevance to... us." His French accent seemed more pronounced than normal.

"Oh, no," Helene said hastily. But she could hardly explain. "It's only for a month. I'm helping him with his opera."

"His opera" Mayne repeated, clearly stupefied. "I didn't know you collaborated on his operas."

"We don't," Helene insisted, feeling more and more embarrassed.

Mayne sat for a moment, still holding her hand. "All of London is under the impression that Earl Godwin lives with a young woman," he said, finally. "I gather they are mistaken?"

"Of course they are mistaken!" Helene said firmly. "My husband has ended the friendship to which you refer." But she had never been a good liar.

He didn't bother to ask again. "Appalling!" he said sharply.

"No!" she said. And then, "That is, I don't mean to tell you anything!"

Unless Helene was very wrong, there was an unusual expression in Mayne's eyes-at least, she had never heard tell that the Earl of Mayne was a sympathetic man. People said he was hard, driven, debauched as her own husband. She bit her lip. What if he decided to ruin her? But the look in his eyes...

She was wrong. That wasn't sympathy. "Whatever it is that your husband has done to you," Mayne said with precision, "that made you return to him under such humiliating circumstances, I'm going to kill him for it."

The stark chill in his voice froze Helene's marrow. "He hasn't done anything!" she said, with a little gasp.

Clearly he didn't believe her. Who would have thought that the man known for bedding most of London had such a principled streak to him? "Rees hasn't threatened me in any manner at all," she assured him. "I am staying in the house of my own free will."

Mayne spoke through clenched teeth. "You needn't explicate," he said. "I'll free you from the bastard if it's the last thing I do."

"No, no!" Helene said, anxiety coursing through her blood. "I don't want to be freed, truly I don't! I like being Countess Godwin." She clutched his hand. "Can't you understand, Mayne? Rees and I are friends"

"Friends?" his voice had a frozen edge to it. "A friend doesn't make his wife live in proximity to a whore!"

"I should think that you, of all men in London, would understand. You are known, after all, for consoling ladies whose marriages are something less than... ideal." Which was a nice way of saying he had slept with many married women, so who was he to cavil over married persons' behavior?

His eyes flashed. "There is no similarity whatsoever. I would never offer such an insult to any lady, let alone to my own wife."

"Rees and I are friends," she said again. "Don't you understand? We married years ago, and there's no feeling between us other than a mild friendship." She pushed away memories of very different feelings. She had to convince Mayne that she was in the house of her own choice or he would kill Rees. She could see it in his eyes.

"Mild friendship," he repeated. "But every feeling of yours must revolt from proximity to a strumpet."

Helene let a teasing little smile cross her face. "There's no strumpet in the house," she said with deliberate falsehood, knowing he didn't believe her for a moment. "Yet I do believe that you may have overestimated the sanctimonious side of my character, Lord Mayne."

"I feel as if you are changing before my eyes," he said, staring at her.

She shrugged, knowing that her breasts moved with a delicious, unsteady wobble when she did so. "I am Countess Godwin, and I prefer to stay that way. I am helping my husband with his opera because he asked me to do so. I do not feel a particle of feeling for him beyond that fact." She let her hand slide to Mayne's knee. "Naturally, I would be most distressed if you felt moved to imprudent action. I could never be intimate with a man who had injured my husband."

Helene felt quite pleased with herself. For someone who had judged herself as having no subtlety whatsoever a mere year ago, she was developing a finely tuned dramatic sense. Perhaps she ought to audition to play the lead in one of Rees's operas.

Mayne obviously couldn't quite figure out what was going on. She let her fingers stay for a moment on his knee and then pulled them away. "I shall be at my husband's house for a month only," she said tranquilly. "Naturally, after that point I shall reenter society. You do see how much I honor you with this confidence, my lord?" She leaned back against the seat and sure enough, his eyes flew to her chest.

"I am nothing if not discreet," he said promptly. "But, Helene-"

Helene didn't want to talk about it anymore. In fact, the only thing she really wanted was to retreat to Rees's safe, messy music room and forget about this whole conversation, but she could hardly throw Mayne out of the carriage. Not when he might spread the tale to all of London and ruin her irrevocably, or-worse-do some injury to Rees.

"Garret," she said softly, interrupting him.

He was no idiot. He had her hand again and was pressing kisses in her palm, although for some reason Helene now found it irritating rather than enjoyable.

"Yes, darling?" he asked.

"I must allow you to return to your carriage in a mere five minutes," she told him.

The light burning in his eyes almost made her uneasy. He looked as if he wished to gobble her up, like an ogre in a fairy tale. "I've never met a lady who had your refreshing attitude towards marriage," he said, almost hoarsely. "I feel as if I never lived before this moment. I've never met a truly honest woman."

Helene suppressed a rather irritated sigh and let him press more passionate kisses on her hand. Thank goodness, Rees had taken up the challenge of fatherhood before she engaged herself further with Mayne. She would have never been comfortable with his passionate conversation. It made her feel embarrassed. Rees's brusque comments were more her style, in truth.

"You will be the making of me," Mayne was saying. "I never thought there was a woman so genuinely honest. So-so candid."

Feeling a pulse of guilt, Helene smiled at him. Why on earth was she bothering with this folly? Hopefully by the time she emerged from Rees's house, Mayne would have forgotten all about her. Everyone said he had the attention of a butterfly.

He was kissing his way up her wrist now. It is truly quite odd, Helene thought to herself, how little I appreciate these kisses after yesterday's encounter with Rees. The very memory made her turn rather pink, and then suddenly she realized that Mayne had slipped from his seat and was sitting beside her.

"You blush like the merest lass," he was saying in a throaty voice, "and yet you have the sophisticated wit and intelligence of a grown woman. I didn't think there was a woman like you alive, Helene!"

That's because there isn't such a woman, Helene thought uncharitably. Surely she could dismiss him to his carriage now?

"You truly have no feelings for your husband at all?" he said, his lips dancing across her cheekbone.

"No," Helene said, trying to make her tone even.

"In God's truth, a woman after my own heart," he said, and captured her mouth.

The Earl of Mayne's kisses would never be called objectionable. They were so sophisticated and sleek, persuasive and delicate, that Helene didn't even mind them-much. It was just that she really wanted to get back to Rees. She had a thought about the score he had given her.

"I must go," she said, pulling back. And then added, "alas."

His eyes had turned very dark. In fact, he looked half out of his mind. "But when can I see you again?"

"I'll send you a note once I leave Rees's house," she said cheerfully.

"A month? I can't wait a month! Not now that I've found you!"

"Well, I'm afraid that you'll have to. I am utterly incognita, naturally enough. It would be appalling if the news got out."

"But what has that to do with us? You cannot think to live like a nun in that house for a whole month, when you could be meeting me discreetly?"

Helene quelled a vivid image of Rees towering over her in the park yesterday. She could hardly be more indiscreet.

"You're blushing again," he said, seizing her hand. "Come to me, darling. I have a little house in Golden Square, close to Piccadilly-"

"Absolutely not," Helene said sharply. "I do not engage in surreptitious behavior."

He looked a little confused, as well he might, given that she was currently acting in a remarkably surreptitious fashion.

"I mean," she amended, "that our friendship will be conducted utterly in the open. I shall send you a note and request your company once I return to society." With luck, by then he would have found another married woman and forgotten all about her.

"Of course," he breathed. "Honesty such as yours is dazzling."

"Precisely," Helene said, rather uncomfortably. She rapped on the door and her footman promptly opened it. "I wish you good day, sir."

Mayne descended, but then he looked back, as if he couldn't bear to leave. "Helene..."

But she motioned the footman to close the door.