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“She confiscates them from the maids,” Saunders explained. “No one is allowed to use paints in the house, of course. Once in a blue moon, when she’s in a good mood, Mrs. Crewe takes out the basket and allows the downstairs maids to play about in the evening. Not that I’ve done so for years.” Saunders had developed a strong sense of her dignity when she was promoted to personal maid five years ago.

A few moments later Saunders plumped a large wicker basket on the floor. “Oh my,” Helene said, fascinated. She picked up a small tin box.

“Chinese colors,” Saunders said importantly. “Too dark for you, my lady.” She burrowed in the basket. “If I remember correctly, there’s a box of red sandlewood in here. That Lucy, who only lasted a few weeks before she was let go for stealing Mrs. Crewe’s own brooch, she had it. Likely nimmed it from her previous mistress, unless I’m much mistaken.” Saunders held out a round box, enameled all over with pansies.

“The box is very pretty,” Helene said uncertainly.

“I’ll use a little on your cheeks,” Saunders said. “We’ll use the darker one, the Chinese colors, for your lips. And here’s black frankincense. We can darken your lashes with this, and your eyebrows as well.”

“My goodness, Saunders,” Helene said, smiling at her maid. “I had no idea that you had so much facility with face paints.”

Saunders was standing back and looking at her work. “I’m that used to seeing braids atop your head,” she said slowly. “But shorter hair does make you look years younger. Everyone said so, below stairs.”

“That’s good,” Helene said, cheered.

Saunders was expertly sweeping frankincense onto a brush. “Tomorrow you might wish to go to that perfumer, Henry and Daniel Rotely Harris, where all the ladies go. They’ll make up colors just for you.”

“Goodness,” Helene said rather faintly, “I had no idea that was a possibility.”

Saunders began wielding the tiny brush around Helene’s eyebrows. Helene had to admit that the change was very dramatic. Her brows suddenly appeared as high arches, emphasizing her eyes.

“Now your lashes, my lady,” Saunders said. “If you would just close your eyes, please.”

Helene obediently did just as she said, and then almost gasped when she opened them again. Her ordinary gray eyes had been transformed into jewels: they looked green and seductive, like mermaid’s eyes. And instead of her cheekbones sticking out like those of a hungry beggar, a delicate wash of color emphasized the heart-shaped triangle of her face.

“Oh, Madam,” Saunders said, sounding awed by her own work. “You look ravishing!”

“Thanks to you,” Helene said, smiling. She could do this. The face paints helped. The timid, skinny woman who wrote waltzes and was never asked to dance them was hidden behind the colors on her face. The pale, timid Helene who had cried when her young husband laughed at her breasts was behind a mask. This Helene had impudent, seductive eyes. This Helene wouldn’t care a bit that her husband preferred women with udders rather than breasts. She walked across the room and the delicious feeling of thin silk made her feel like dancing. There was something about the way the silk caught between her legs as she walked and then swirled away that made her feel far more naked than when she rose from her bath.

It remained for her to take herself, her gown, and her determination to have a child…and let events take their natural course. Because Esme had promised, nay had sworn up and down, that the gown would do all the work and Helene could simply choose a father for her child from a bevy of suitors. And for the first time, Helene began to believe her. Courage rose in her. Men would like the way she looked.

“Will you wear the diamonds tonight?” Saunders enquired.

“I believe my rubies would suit this gown.” Helene never wore the rubies set because they had belonged to her late mother-in-law, and she herself had never really felt like Countess Godwin…but the color would be perfect. The rubies settled around her neck with a delicious rosy glow. Saunders put ruby drops in her ears. Helene almost laughed with the surprise of seeing her own reflection, even as Saunders fastened rubies around her wrist. Could this glowing, beautiful woman be her, Helene?

At that moment there was a knock and Esme tumbled into the room. “Hello, darling! I’ve just come to—” she said and stopped.

There was a moment of extremely gratifying silence. Then:

“You are not to come within two feet of my Sebastian, do you hear? Not within two feet!” Esme squealed.

Helene made a little pout. It was the most delicious thing in the world to pout with cherry red lips, rather than her own pale pink mouth. “But Sebastian must dance with me at least once. We are attending the ball together, after all, and he’s so handsome.”

Esme was laughing. “I think not, my girl. I’m not letting him anywhere near you. However,” she took a list from her reticule, “here are a few men with whom you may dance.”

Helene dismissed Saunders. The last thing she wanted was the entire servants’ quarters enjoying the contents of Esme’s list, let alone discovering the reason for its existence.

Esme, meanwhile, had thrown herself into a chair and taken off her slippers. “It is so distressing,” she said, revolving her slender foot in the air. “These slippers are deliriously beautiful but they already hurt, and I’ve only been in them for an hour or so. I shall have to dance barefoot, and that will offend Sebastian’s sensibilities.”

“I thought your husband was a reformed man, and no longer had any sense of proprieties,” Helene said rather absentmindedly. And then, without waiting for an answer: “Esme, are you out of your mind? I can’t lure Lord Guilpin into my bedchamber. The man is obviously searching for a wife. I myself saw him in Almack’s the other week. The last thing he wants to do is dally with an aging, married woman!”

“You are no aging, married woman,” Esme said. “You are about to be revealed as the most desirable woman in all London. And I like Guilpin’s looks. Those gray eyes are very taking, don’t you think?”

“I never gave his eyes the slightest thought.”

“Well, you’ll have to do so now,” Esme said. “To my mind, Guilpin is tired of looking for a wife. We’re well into the season, so he’s seen all the young women being presented. More to the point, he’s not dancing attendance on any of them, which means that he’s quite likely to dance attendance on you instead. All three men on that list are debauched enough to lure you into a chamber at the ball and do what comes naturally to them. And each of them is both intelligent and reasonably good looking. That way, your child won’t be born hunchbacked or hare-brained.”

“I don’t care very much about looks,” Helene noted. “More important is that he know something of music. Just imagine if my child wasn’t musical!” She looked horrified.