by Beth Byers
Ro lifted her glass in salute and sipped.
Hettie set aside her champagne flute, slipped on her shoes, and then turned to face her husband, who had pulled Mrs. Stone, the obvious trollop, into his lap and was kissing her extravagantly. Hettie scrunched up her nose and gagged a little. Mrs. Stone had been in Nathan Brighton’s lap last week.
“She slept with Leonard too,” Ro informed Hettie with an even tone.
Hettie reveled in the camaraderie she found in Ro’s resigned tone. “Have you met Mr. Stone?”
Ro nodded. “He doesn’t realize. He’s not the type of man to be cuckolded like this. So…overtly. Have you heard of the marriage act they’ve proposed?”
Hettie nodded with little doubt that her eyes had brightened like that of a child at Christmas. “I will be there on the very first day. If Harvey had any idea, any at all, he’d be rolling over in his future grave. The money’s mine, you know? My aunt never liked Harvey and she tied up my money tightly. He gets what he wants because it’s easier to give it to him than listen to him whine, but he won’t get a half-penny from me the day I can file divorce papers. They say it’s going to go through.”
“I couldn’t care less about the money,” Ro replied. “Though my money is coming from a still-living aunt. Leonard has enough, I suppose, but his eye is definitely on Aunt Bette’s fortune.”
“So,” Hettie joked, “he needs to go before she does.”
Ro choked on a laugh and cough-laughed so hard she was wiping away tears.
“Darling!” Harvey hollered across the room. “We’re going down to Leonard’s yacht. You can get yourself home, can’t you?”
Hettie closed her eyes for a moment before answering. “Of course I can. Don’t fall in.” She crossed her fingers so only Ro could see. Ro’s laugh made Hettie grin at Harvey. He gave her a bit of a confused look. Certainly he had shouted his exit with the hope she wouldn’t scold him. Foolish man! She’d welcome him moving into Mrs. Stone’s bed permanently and leaving his wife behind.
The handsome servant from earlier picked up Hettie’s abandoned glass and shot her a telling, not quite disapproving look.
“Oh ho,” Hettie said, making sure the man heard her. “We’ve been overheard.”
“We’ve been eavesdropped,” Ro agreed. Then with a lifted brow to the human art serving champagne, she said, “Boy, our husbands are aware of our lack of love. There’s no chance for blackmail here.”
“Does your aunt feel the same?” he asked insinuatingly.
Hettie stiffened, but Ro simply laughed. “Do you think she hasn’t heard the tale of that lush Leonard? She’s written me stiff upper lip letters. Watch your step and your mouth or you’ll lose your position despite your pretty face. It doesn’t matter how you feel, only how you look. No one is paying you to think.”
The servant flushed and bowed deeply, shooting them both a furious expression before backing away silently.
“Cheeky lad,” Hettie muttered. “You scolded him furiously. Are you sure you weren’t letting out your rage on the poor fellow?”
“Cheeky yes,” Ro agreed. She placed a finger on her lip as she considered Hettie’s question and then agreed. “Too harsh as well. I suppose I would need to apologize if he didn’t threaten to blackmail me.”
“But pretty,” they said nearly in unison, then laughed as the servant overhead them and gave them a combined sultry glance.
“No, no, boyo,” Ro told him. “Toddle off now, darling. We’ve had quite our fill of philandering, reckless men. You’ve missed your window.” Ro’s head cocked as she glanced Hettie over. “Shall we?”
“Shall we what, love?”
Ro grinned wickedly. “Shall we be bosom friends then? Soul sisters after one shared breath?”
“Let’s,” Hettie nodded. “As the man I thought was my soulmate was an utter disaster, I’ll take a soul sister as a replacement.”
They sent a servant to summon Hettie’s driver. “I was thinking of going to a bottle party later. At a bath house? That might distract us.”
Hettie cocked her head as she considered. “Harvey does expect me to go home.”
Ro lifted her brows and waited.
“So we must, of course, disillusion him as perfectly as he has me.”
“There we go! It’s only fair,” Ro cheered, shaking her hands over her head. “I have been considering a trip to the Paris fashion salons.”
“Yes,” Hettie immediately agreed, knowing it would enrage Harvey, who preferred her tucked away in case he wanted her. “We should linger in Paris or swing over to Spain.”
“Oooh, Spain!”
“Italy,” Hettie suggested, just to see if Ro would agree.
“Yes!”
“Russia?”
Ro paused. “Perhaps Cote d’Azur? Egypt? Somewhere warmer. I always think of snow when I think of Russia, and I only like it with cocoa and sleigh rides. Perhaps only one or two days a year.”
“Agreed—” Hettie trailed off, eyes wide, as she saw Mrs. Stone enthusiastically kiss the cheeky servant from earlier and then adjust her coat. She winked at Hettie on the way out, caring little that both of them knew Mrs. Stone would be climbing into Harvey’s bed later. Or, perhaps it was Harvey who would be climbing into Mr. Stone’s bed. “Is her husband really blind to it?”
“Oh yes,” Ro laughed. “He’s quite a bit older you know, and even more old-fashioned than my grandfather. He’s Victorian through and through. He probably has a codicil in the will about her remarrying. The type of things that cuts her off if she doesn’t remain true to him. Especially since he’s in his seventies, and she’s thirty? Perhaps?”
Hettie shook her head. “They have a rather outstanding blackberry wine here,” she said, putting Mrs. Stone out of her mind. “Shall we—ah—borrow a bottle or two?”
Ro nodded and walked across to the bar. She dug through the bottles and pulled out a full bottle of blackberry wine, another of gin, and a third of a citrus liqueur. “Hopefully someone will think to bring good mixers.” She handed one of the bottles to Hettie before tucking one under each arm.
The butler eyed them askance as they asked for their coats.
“Don’t worry, luv,” Ro told the butler. “Your master doesn’t mind.”
None of them believed that whopper of a lie, but Ro’s cheerful proclamation made it seem acceptable.
“Thief,” Hettie hissed innocently as her driver, Peterson, opened the door for them and they dove inside. She struggled with the cork and then asked, “Are we going nude or shall we grab bathing costumes?”
“My brother-in-law lives with us,” Ro said, looking disgusted, “I’ll be going nude before I go back and face that one. Look—” Her head cocked as the black cab sped up. “I think that’s him! We can rush back to collect my bathing costume before he returns to the house.”
“I’m a bit too round to want to go full starkers.”
“The men love the curves,” Ro told her. “If you wanted to step out on your Harvey, you’d need to up the attitude and cast a come hither gaze.”
“Like this?” Hettie asked, attempting one but feeling as though she must look like she had something in her eye.
“Like this,” Ro countered, glancing at Hettie out of the corner of her eye. “I’m thinking of a really nice plate of biscuits.”
Hettie tried it and Ro bit back a laugh. “Are you angry with the biscuits?”
“Let me try imagining cakes. I do prefer a lemon cake.” Hettie glanced at Ro out of the corner of her eye, imagining a heavily iced lemon cake, and then smiled just a little.
“No, no,” Ro said, showing Hettie again what to do.
“Oh! I know.” Hettie imagined the divorce act that Parliament was considering.
“Yes! Now you’ve got it! Was it a box of chocolates?”
Hettie confessed, sending Ro into a bout of laughter and tears that saw them all the way to Hettie’s hotel room. From her hotel room to Ro’s house, there were random bursts of giggles and stray tears. Once the
y reached to bath house, Ro said, “I’ll be drinking to that divorce act tonight. Possibly for the rest of my life.”
“If it frees me,” Hettie told Ro dryly, “I’d paper my house with a copy of it to celebrate those who saved us from a fate I should have known better than to fall into.”
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Copyright © 2019 by Beth Byers, Amanda A. Allen
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