Mayne felt really sick now. He'd forgotten his first reaction to hearing that Helene was staying in her husband's house. "She said-she said he didn't force her to stay there."

"You're a fool! I've known Helene for years, and if you didn't even see the monstrous Puritanical streak in her, what did you see?"

"I don't know," Mayne said, pulling his hand through his hair.

"Godwin forced her into that house, and into the presence of his mistress-" Griselda shuddered. "I can't imagine how humiliating that must have been for her. And you-you break her confidence, and all because she doesn't choose to join the long line of women who've graced your bedsheets!"

Mayne's teeth were clenched. "You've made your point," he said, hearing a roaring sound in his ears. "You're right."

Griselda opened her mouth-and shut it again.

"The point is," she said after a moment or so, "what are we going to do to change things?"

"There's nothing that can be done," Mayne said through bloodless lips. "I've ruined her. I could let Godwin kill me in a duel, I suppose."

"Don't be a greater fool than you already are!" Griselda snapped. "I may be extremely annoyed with you, but you're still my brother and I won't have you shot by that degenerate. This is all his fault, at the base of it! We just need to think. Think!"

Chapter Thirty-six.

Great Minds, etc..

It is a fact long established about the human race that when a great many fine minds assert themselves to the same task, solutions are found with astonishing rapidity. At some point, a clever group of primitives came up with the wheel; a group of housewives bent on retail therapy discovered that metal disks work for bartering just as well as do chickens; a few fishermen managed to extract Napoleon from lazy exile on Elba.

And so it was.

When Lady Griselda Willoughby was announced at the Godwin residence, Helene looked confused, but Gina, who knew the precedence of every living member of English peerage, said instantly, "That's Mayne's sister. Show her in, Leke."

It was during Griselda's rather flurried and apologetic entrance that Esme suddenly said, "I've got it!"

Griselda instantly dropped her rattled explanation that Mayne was waiting penitently in her carriage, and said "What?"

"I think it will work," Esme said slowly. "We just need the cooperation of one person."

"Who?" Gina said breathlessly.

"Mayne will do it," Griselda said firmly. "My brother will do anything that needs to be done."

"Not Mayne." Esme looked at Helene. "It's your husband's... friend. We need her."

"For what?" Helene asked.

"She has to marry," Esme said decisively. "Become respectable."

"I don't know if Mayne will wish to go that far," Griselda said, feeling a sudden flash of panic. "He does mean to marry, but-"

"No, I don't mean she should actually marry someone," Esme said. "But she has to pretend to be married. Helene, would you mind very much if we asked the young lady to join us?"

"Join us?" Griselda squeaked. To tell the truth, she'd never been in the room with a kept woman. It was a good thing that she'd left Mayne in the coach. He had an uncompromising streak when it came to his little sister's acquaintances.

"I don't even know if she's in the house," Helene was explaining. "We don't exactly-I have no idea-" she foundered to a pause.

"I shall enquire," Gina said firmly. "What is her name?"

"McKenna," Helene said. "Miss Lina McKenna."

The three women sat in utter silence, listening to Gina sending Leke off to request that Miss McKenna kindly join them in the library.

Griselda found herself rather disappointed, to tell the truth. The young woman who was ushered through the door by Leke some ten minutes later was nothing like what she imagined a Bird of Paradise to look like. Miss McKenna had soft brown curls, and large eyes. She was beautiful, in a young sort of way. But she didn't look debauched, and she certainly didn't look as if she was-well-spicy. Naughty. Any of those rather exciting words that one associated with strumpets. Mostly, she just looked painfully nervous.

"Miss McKenna," Esme said, having made sure that the girl was seated. "I am afraid that the news of Lady Godwin's residence in the house, in tandem with your presence, has created rather a sensation amongst London society."

Miss McKenna gasped and looked to Helene. "They found out?"

"She's ruined," Esme confirmed. "No one in polite society will ever receive her again." Her voice was quiet but merciless.

Miss McKenna swallowed. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "In God's truth, I am so sorry."

Helene found a smile wobbling on her lips. "It's hardly your fault. I think we have universally come to the agreement that the fault lies directly at the door of my reprehensible husband."

Griselda was rather interested to note that Helene showed no sign of loathing her husband's mistress. Perhaps Mayne was more acute than she had given him credit for. Helene was, indeed, an unusual woman.

"I did not wish to remain in this house," Miss McKenna said looking only at Helene, "and I'm ashamed that I ever agreed. I only did so because Lord Godwin offered me the lead in his next opera."

Griselda was feeling more and more confused. The supposed strumpet spoke like a lady, albeit a Scottish one. Griselda could hear a burr in her voice. And she wasn't even wearing rouge, for all Griselda could see. How could this woman be a self-respecting elegante? Helene didn't seem to have shed a single tear over the fact she was ruined, but Miss McKenna was obviously biting her lip to keep back a flood.

"You do not have the manner of a common woman," Esme commented.

"No," Miss McKenna admitted.

"How many of Lord Godwin's acquaintances have you met frequently, since becoming his mistress, enough so that they would recognize you instantly?"

Miss McKenna's face washed with color. "Almost none," she whispered. "Mr. Darby. Mr. Forbes-Shacklett. Oh, and Lord Pandross, but he hasn't been to the house in months."

"Simon Darby and Pandross won't present a problem; Rees can shut them up. Are the Forbes-Shackletts in town?" Esme asked Gina.

"I don't think so," Gina said slowly. "Lady Forbes-Shacklett was going to present her daughter this year, but then the family went into mourning, and I believe they remained in the country."

Esme drew a deep breath. "I think it's possible." She turned back to Lina. "I am sure you are aware how remorseless society will be to Lady Godwin. Her children will be shunned, should she have any. She will have to live in the country. She will lose her friends. How can we risk the reputations of our own children, by continuing to fraternize with a woman of her sort?"

Gina opened her mouth indignantly, but Esme silenced her with one glance.

Lina was trembling. "I am sorry," she said miserably. She had never felt so wretchedly ashamed in her entire life. "I'll leave the house immediately. I'll never-"

"I should like you to do something for Lady Godwin first," Esme interrupted. "There is only one way we can overcome this scandal. We must be so brazen that no one could possibly believe the truth." Esme turned to the others. "May I present to you Rees's third cousin, four times removed, recently widowed and come to London for peace and quiet?"

Gina's mouth fell open; Helene flinched; Griselda said, "Of course!"

"Third cousin?" Lina gasped. "Of Lord Godwin?"

Esme nodded. "From this moment on, you are a little-known relative from the country. No one has seen you as yourself, remember. No one is at all clear about what Rees's famed mistress actually looks like. We will announce that the mistress long ago departed. Rees had a distant connection staying here, and Helene joined the household temporarily, to act as a chaperone."

"Are you certain that everyone will believe us?" Helene asked, dawning hope in her voice.

"Obviously, we have to parade Miss McKenna before the ton. But I think that one occasion, if well handled, will suffice to silence the gossip. No one could possibly believe that the four of us"-she nodded to Lady Griselda-"would ever countenance being in the presence of Rees's mistress, let alone bring about the presentation of such a woman to the ton."

A little smile curled Griselda's lips. "And I know precisely who would best effect the presentation of this distant relative. My brother may have acted the fool last night, but now he can put his dramatic ability to work in our favor."

Chapter Thirty-seven.

Siblings Are Sometimes Quite Similar.

Naturally, Rees was pounding away at one of his pianos when Tom found him. He seemed to be playing the same set of chords over and over again. Tom walked over to the piano and stood next to it until Rees looked up.

"Where's Helene?" Rees asked, by way of greeting. "I haven't seen her this morning."

"I have no idea," Tom said. "I shall be leaving for St. Mary's tomorrow, Rees."

His brother blinked up at him and his hands finally slowed on the keys. "I had gotten used to having you in the house."

Tom thought to sit on the couch, but it was stacked with paper. He pulled over a stool and sat on that instead. "I need to return to my parish. I intend to speak to the bishop about leaving the priesthood."

Rees was caressing the piano keys with long fingers, although he made no sound. "I would surmise that your change of profession is due to Lina?"

Tom lost his balance and almost toppled from the stool. "I-that is, yes."

"How does Lina feel about you?"

"She refuses to marry a vicar," Tom said, wondering if he should apologize for taking Rees's mistress and decided that he needn't. "Perhaps I will be able to change her mind. It will take me some time to extract myself from the church, but I would like to marry her immediately."

Rees raised an eyebrow. Tom had the unnerving sense that their father was sitting before him. He'd never realized before how much Rees took after the old earl.

"I had the impression," Rees said slowly, "that although you were enjoying a glimpse of life outside the parish, you would return to your church."

"I miss my congregation, and I miss being a priest," Tom said, feeling almost as if he were confessing to a weakness. "It's who I am, after all these years. But Lina doesn't wish to marry a man of the cloth." He tried not to sound as if he were defending a weakness. Rees was not their father, only an elder brother.

"What will you do if the Bishop grants your request and removes you from the parish?"

"Likely work with abandoned children," Tom said promptly.

"You're a better man than I am," Rees said. "You know, Father was proud of you, for all he didn't express that particular emotion."

"Expressing contempt came far more easily."

Rees was silent for a moment. Then he said: "I'm proud of you, Tom. You're a good man."

Tom watched him scowl down at his keyboard, and felt a rush of affection, although it would never do to express it. "So will you forgive me for stealing your mistress?" he asked.

"It was her voice, as I expect you've realized," Rees said, ignoring his frivolous question. "I heard her sing, and I couldn't think about anything except getting that voice into the house so that she could sing for me." He smiled in a crooked kind of way. "I was a right bastard. It only took me a month or two to realize it, but it was too late."

"I wouldn't have met Lina if you hadn't brought her here," Tom said, and the very idea chilled him. He did want to stay a vicar, but only if he had Lina to keep him laughing, and warm his bed, and stop him from turning into a sanctimonious ass.

Rees played one key. The sound hung on the air, melancholy and fading. "I suppose I can lure Madame Fodor from the Italian Opera House to play Lina's part. It will suit her voice very well." And then, looking at the keyboard: "I am going to ask Helene to remain in the house."

"To remain in the house-or to stay with you?" Tom asked gently.

The smile on Rees's mouth was rather grim. "She has a great deal to forgive me for."

"You're lucky she loves you so much, then," Tom said.

Rees's eyes flew to Tom's, and then he looked away without comment, standing up. "I need to find Helene and play this phrase for her."

Tom stood up as well and then, to his utter surprise, Rees pulled him into a rough hug. He didn't say anything; Rees was never one to use words when there was no need. Tom followed his brother from the room without another word between them.

He was free. Free to tell Lina that she had to marry him. Free to take her away.

As Rees stepped into the hallway, Leke came out of the library. "The countess has just asked for you," he said, holding open the door.

Tom stopped. "Where may I find Miss McKenna, Leke?"

"In the library," he replied.

They strode into the room looking, had there been a mirror appropriately placed, extremely like their father. Yet another glance would have revealed that they were far more like to each other, than to their father.

Chapter Thirty-eight.

Snippets of Conversation Overheard in London During the Week.

"It's your penance," Lady Griselda Willoughby told her brother with some satisfaction. "If you have to endure a month or so of wretched bibble-babble, it will teach you to be more particular in your attentions. For goodness' sake, I may find Helene Godwin rather tedious, but I grow faint with ennui if I am unlucky enough to drift into the sound of Felicia Saville's voice. And believe me, you can hear her voice halfway across a ballroom!"