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“I suspect you’re right, but—”
“I have two choices, Esme: I can wither on the vine asking my husband for a divorce that he won’t give me, or I can simply have the baby I desire, and let the devil take the consequences.”
“It will be a terrible scandal,” Esme warned her.
“I don’t care. I literally don’t care.”
Esme took a deep breath and nodded. “In that case, we’ll forget the whole idea of divorce and simply select an available man to father your child.” Her imagination was already jumping to the task. “Neville Charlton has lovely hair. Or there’s Lord Brooks. He has that gorgeous Roman nose.”
“I wouldn’t wish my child to have a father whose first name is Busick,” Helene put in wryly.
“Excellent point,” Esme agreed. “We’ll just pick exactly the facial features and names that you would appreciate, and there we are.”
Helene shook her head but didn’t say anything, so Esme rattled on.
“Lord Bellamy has very broad shoulders, Helene. What do you think of him? And he has black hair as well. I’ll make a list. For goodness’ sake, it’s not so hard to have a child. It only took me one night. Rees won’t repudiate you once you’re with child. He’s a decent sort.”
Helene snorted. “Decent? Rees?”
“Well, at any rate, he’s far too lazy to repudiate you,” Esme amended.
“He wants to make my life a misery for some reason,” Helene said flatly. “It’s the only explanation for his continued behavior toward me.”
“Well, Rees is not a skinflint,” Esme said. “He’s one of the richest men in England, and he would hardly leave you and the babe to starve.”
“The greater problem is that someone has to father the babe,” Helene said. “With me.” Helene’s eyes were swollen and red; her skin was patchy from crying.
“This isn’t your finest hour,” Esme said consolingly, “but—”
Helene plucked at the front of her gown. “Esme, there’s nothing here!” She waved her hand in front of Esme’s chest. “Just compare you and me.”
There was no question that Esme won that sweepstakes. Helene was wearing a very tightly buttoned walking costume that emphasized the fact that she had only the faintest, faintest curve in the front.
“Admit it,” Helene demanded. “You haven’t looked like me since you were fourteen years old!”
“More like twelve,” Esme admitted. “But gentlemen are not only attracted to large bosoms, you know.”
“They like curves. I don’t want to get excited about impossibilities. I don’t have curves. I can’t flirt in that way you have, as if you were—”
“As if I were what?” Esme asked, bristling a little.
“Oh, you know, Esme. Promising them things. I can’t do that. I loathed being in bed with Rees, what I remember of it. I can hardly look at a man as if I would want to do such a thing voluntarily!”
Esme bit her lip. Helene’s marital relations had obviously been unpleasant. “You’ll have to feign desire,” she said bluntly. “Because it matters far more to a man that you desire him, than that you have a large chest.”
“I’m not sure I even know how to do that. Stephen Fairfax-Lacy wasn’t fooled for more than a few moments, to be honest. He could tell that I didn’t really want to go forward with it.”
“We’ll work on that part later,” Esme promised. “It’s not hard to fool a man into thinking that you think he’s Adonis himself, if you go about it the right way.” She looked over Helene again. “First we have to order some new clothing.”
Helene smiled, a tiny curl of her lips. “You can turn me into a blaze of fashion and it won’t make any man wish to bed me.”
“Nonsense! You are ravishing, darling. There’s many a woman who would be more than grateful for that lovely hair of yours, not to mention your cheekbones. What we’re going to do is advertise the fact that you are available for bedding. I’m afraid that men are rather slow and foolish when it comes to these things, and they rely on obvious signals, such as clothing.”
Helene sighed and began wrapping her braids back into a stack on her head. “I’ll have to just cover up my chest with a sign, then. Available tonight. Please inquire within.”
Four
Of Song Birds and Strumpets
