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“The girls went into the nursery. Darby arrived without a nanny, so it’s quite lucky that your old nurse is already here to help with your babe when it’s born. She seemed pleased to have something to do. We put Darby in the blue room, at the end of the hall.”

“Oh no,” Esme said. “Doesn’t the fireplace smoke?”

“It serves him right,” Helene said with a certain relish.

“He’s trotted all the way up here just to see if you’re bearing a bastard, to call a spade a spade.”

Esme felt her spirits droop. “I’d better tell him the truth.”

Helene stopped short and grabbed her arm. “You will do nothing of the sort,” she said. “To even admit for one second that the babe may not be Miles’s is both to desecrate your husband’s memory and destroy your son—who may well be Miles’s child. You don’t want to do that.”

Esme stared into her friend’s eyes. Helene always seemed convinced of an appropriate action. To Esme, this whole issue seemed foggy. 38 Eloisa

James

“Now pull yourself together,” Helene advised. “You seem to have forgotten that you have an evening at home tonight. Half the county is arriving at the house in a few hours, and here you are, drowsing on the lawn.”

“Oh Lord,” Esme gasped. “I did forget about the evening.”

“You would be the only one,” Helene observed. “I still cannot fathom why you wish to outrage most of the county by inviting guests to your house during your mourning period.”

“It’s only a small at-home,” Esme said feebly. Helene was chewing on her lower lip, and Esme knew with the instinct of a longtime friend that she had something else to say. “What is it?” she asked, resigned to bad news.

“Would you mind terribly if I paid a brief visit to my aunt Caroline in Salisbury? I shan’t leave until after your at-home, naturally.” Helene’s aunt lived a short distance away.

“Of course not,” Esme said, feeling that she would mind very much indeed. In fact, she might start crying again at the very thought.

“It’s just that Darby is Rees’s best friend.”

“Why does that matter?” Esme said, trying to summon up a weak defense. “It’s not as if your husband is here. Darby is just a friend of his, Helene. Nothing more than a friend. You can’t avoid all of Rees’s friends.” But she already knew that Helene would leave for her aunt’s house first thing in the morning. Once Helene had decided on a course of action, it was impossible to dissuade her.

“I don’t feel comfortable with Darby. He has always been in Rees’s confidence. When we were married, Rees would disappear, and when I demanded to know where he was, he would say with Darby. Except that I knew he’d been rollicking about with opera singers. The very women he later moved into my house, as a matter of fact.”

Esme grimaced at the keen edge in Helene’s tone. “That was years ago, Helene. Years. Lord knows, Darby probably didn’t even know that Rees was using him as an excuse.”

Fool for Love

39

“Perhaps,” Helene said. “But I doubt it. They were always in each other’s pockets, those two. Even now, while we were exchanging the briefest of greetings, he mentioned something Rees had said to him. And I . . . I just don’t want to hear about Rees.”

“But you and your husband separated ages ago, Helene,”

Esme said, knowing full well that she might as well spare her breath.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to hear or think about my husband, and unfortunately Darby brings that very subject to mind.”

“God knows why they’re friends. They’re quite opposite, aren’t they? Darby dominates the ton when it comes to men’s fashions, but Rees—-”

“Rees is as sloppy in his dress as he ever was,” Helene filled in. “You’re right about their dissimilarities. Darby is invariably discreet, but Rees hangs out his dirty linen in Hyde Park.”

“Couldn’t you— please rethink your decision?” Esme asked, almost desperately. “I wouldn’t ask except that I feel quite lonely here—”

“I cannot bear to be around him. I only have to look at Darby, and I want to scream at him for allowing Rees to move that opera singer in our house!” She stopped. “Which is hardly Darby’s fault. But I simply cannot bear to think about my husband. You must excuse me.”

“It’s my fault for even asking you,” Esme said, shaken by the pain in Helene’s voice. “You are so composed in general that I tend to forget you have strong feelings about your husband. It’s inexcusable of me. I’ll be fine. Besides, I think that I’ve made a new friend.”

“Lady Henrietta Maclellan? I like her enormously. I thought she showed a lot of sense at tea yesterday.” That was Helene’s highest praise. “Will she be here this evening?”