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“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?”

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 Not so out of date as to make him ridiculous…but enticing enough to make him appetizing.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.