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He settled back into the corner of his settee. “Didn’t my letter say not to bother? I haven’t changed my mind on the matter.”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he added a sardonic comment that surely would drive her into a fury. “I find your request all the more surprising, since it appears that your future bridegroom has already changed his mind. The last time you asked me—April a year ago, wasn’t it?—you wished to marry Fairfax-Lacy. But from what I’ve heard, he’s up and married another, as the old ballad goes. So who are you wishing to marry now, Helene?”

“That is irrelevant to my desire to divorce you,” she said, her voice disappointingly steady.

“I disagree. As I told you at the time, if you find a man brave enough to stand at your side during the proceedings, brave enough to allow himself to be sued as your consort, I will go through with it. For your sake. But if you haven’t found such a man…”He paused. Her jaw was set in a manner he still dreamed about sometimes.

“Why not? Why can’t you simply divorce me without knowing who I would marry?”

“Divorce would cost us thousands of pounds,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “I may look like a lackluster estate manager, Helene, but I’m not. Why in God’s name would I put that drain on the estate when there’s no point to it? Besides, remarrying would take an Act of Parliament. Fairfax-Lacy might have been able to obtain it, but there’s few others with the same power. If you want to take a lover, take one. God knows, it will do you good.”

He watched with satisfaction as color crept into his wife’s porcelain cheeks. Damned if he knew why one of his primary pleasures in life was to get Helene to show some signs of life.

“I don’t wish to take a lover,” she said. “I merely want to rid myself of you, Rees.”

“By means other than murder, I suppose you mean?”

“I’m willing to consider all options,” she said coolly.

Rees laughed, more like a bark than a laugh. “You’ll have to take a lover. You cannot petition on the grounds of adultery, only I can. Has someone already replaced Fairfax-Lacy, then?”

Her cheeks flared and she swallowed. “I could hire a man to stand as my consort,” she said in a low voice.

“I see no reason for wasting substance on lawyers and bribes and the rest of it.”

“I can pay that sum out of my dowry. And I’m quite certain that my mother would contribute a substantial amount as well.”

“I don’t give a hang whose money it is. There’s no point to it, Helene! We married, and married we stay. I don’t think it’s such an uncomfortable life. After all, it’s not as if I’m a dog in the manger, am I? Surely you can find someone in London to warm your toes!”

Helene barely heard him, barely listened as insult after calculated insult broke over her head. She just stared at him instead. Every time they were apart for a length of time, she managed to school herself into remembering only her husband’s disgusting habits and his slovenly dress. But then, when she saw him again, she couldn’t help noticing the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and the fact that his lower lip was so full. The better to sneer at her, obviously. But then he had dimples in both cheeks and they offset how deep-set his eyes were. Oh, Rees wasn’t beautiful. He had a broad nose, after all, and a shambling way of walking, and he was far too big for beauty. Simon Darby, now there was a beautiful man. Simon and Rees together were like Beauty and the Beast, except that God help her, she couldn’t help but think the Beast was—was—

“Damn it all, Helene, I’m doing my best to drive you into a frenzy and you’re not even listening,” Rees said now, with obvious frustration. “I must be losing my touch.”

“I don’t care if you don’t want to spend the money,” she snapped, looking away from his face with a tinge of self-disgust. “I ceased to take your wishes into account quite a few years ago.”

“There’s my Helene,” Rees said, leaning back again. “It throws me into a fidget if you don’t snap back with a rejoinder. It’s as if the sun didn’t rise.”

“Don’t you see how much better it would be for both of us if we divorced and didn’t have to snap at each other anymore?” she said. “We’re at our worst around each other. I know I am. I turn into a veritable shrew and you—you—”

“My wife a shrew?” he said mockingly. “Never say so!”

Helene swallowed. Somehow she had to break through the barrage of mocking remarks he always threw at her. He had to listen. “We would both be better off if we were no longer married to each other.”

“Can’t see that it would make any difference. I’m quite comfortable as I am. I rather like having a wife around.”

“You can hardly say that I’m around!”

“Your presence, ephemeral or otherwise, keeps the fortune-hunters away,” he pointed out. “Were we to divorce, I’d have carriages breaking down before my railings every other day, with debutantes waltzing in here to play me their scales.”

“But Rees,” Helene said desperately, “I wish to marry someone else.”

“Who?”

She was silent.

“Are you telling me,” Rees demanded, “that you don’t care who you marry, as long as you rid yourself of me?”

She nodded, a trifle jerkily. “Precisely.”