“A field?”

“You’re the field, darling, and he has the plow, if you follow me. Though perhaps a hoe would be a better comparison. No, the real secret has to do with leading your husband to believe that you are experiencing pleasure when you aren’t.”

“Oh dear,” Edie said. The more she heard about her father’s marriage, the more broken it seemed.

A tear slid down Layla’s cheek. “We never had any trouble before everything turned to having a baby. It’s just so distressing.” She sniffled. “But that won’t happen to you. Did I tell you how envious I am that you have a child ready-made and waiting for you in Scotland?”

Edie kept silent. She could hardly tell Layla that she had lain awake the night before worrying that little Susannah wouldn’t like her.

“Some women never have to fret about these matters, because their husbands don’t care if they experience pleasure or not. But good husbands do care. And there are times when, if you don’t bring it to a close, he’ll just keep trying until you want to scream. What men do not understand is that a woman may be so fatigued or miserable that she simply can’t feel all that he might wish her to feel. Are you following, Edie?”

“More or less.”

“So in that case, she has only one recourse: she acts the part.”

“Sorry?”

“Acts,” Layla said. “Performs. Pretends.”

“Performs what?”

“Le petit mort.”

“Oh.”

“You’re not following, are you?”

“Not really.”

“Making love is a noisy business,” Layla said.

“It is?” Edie was growing more and more fascinated, if still confused. She hadn’t quite imagined it that way.

Layla put down her glass, now empty, and tipped back her head. A husky, sensual moan poured from her lips. She slipped her hands into her hair and tossed her head back and forth. “Yes, yes, just like that, more, more!”

The door opened and Willikins appeared behind Layla’s shoulder.

“Ahhh, like that, mon cher, harder, harder! You . . . you are so . . . so . . .” She tossed her head again and her voice rose. “You make me mad. You make me delirious. I’m beside myself. I’m—I’m coming!”

Willikins was frozen in place.

Layla snapped upright, patted her hair back into place, and said, “Willikins, we should both like our glasses refilled.”

“I can imagine that you’re thirsty,” Edie said, giggling madly.

“That is the secret to a happy marriage.”

Edie reserved judgment; it didn’t seem to be working for Layla. Willikins, meanwhile, began to pour champagne without visible signs of shock. He was worth every ha’penny her father paid him.

Layla downed half the contents of her glass at one go.

They were flute glasses, but still . . . Was it her third? “Time to leave,” Edie said, putting her own glass down. “Almack’s awaits.”

“Almack’s,” Layla said, with just the tiniest slur to her voice, “is not a place where an adulterous woman can spy on her husband’s mistress. Did I tell you that I’ve decided to remake myself? I’m tired of being Layla. It’s such a tiresome name. Impossible to spell.”

“Just be grateful you’re not named Edith. And you are not adulterous.”

“I’m aging, which is worse.”

“I don’t think the archbishop would agree with your estimation of relative evils.”

“Prematurely aging,” Layla said, sighing. “That’s what happens to women like me. We sit around getting old, while the Winifreds of the world steal our husbands. If I had been called Joséphine, it would all be different. No man would cheat if he were married to a Joséphine.”

“We really should call for the carriage.”

“I believe I’ll start speaking French,” Layla said, ignoring the question of Almack’s while picking up Edie’s glass and disposing of her remaining champagne. “It will be good practice. I could move to France rather than retire to the country.”

“C’est la vie,” Edie said. “That’s all I know, so our conversations will be short.”

“Darling, everyone can speak French if they just apply themselves. Here’s a good phrase: Évacuez les lieux!”

“What does that mean?”

“Evacuate the area!” Layla cried, waving her arm. “You never know when you might need to scream that in a crowded place. My governess taught me all sorts of useful phrases. Êtes-vous enceinte? That turned out to be not so useful. No, I am not pregnant.” She reached out and rang the bell. “I need more champagne before we leave.”

“We should go to Almack’s now,” Edie repeated. “Don’t they lock the doors and keep you out if you arrive even a moment too late?”

“You know I could be pregnant by now if your father wasn’t so stubborn,” Layla said, continuing to ignore her. “You do know why rabbits have so many baby bunnies, don’t you?”

Edie hauled her stepmother to her feet. Tipsy or not, Layla was delectable, like the prettiest cream pastry a man could hope to eat. The bodice of her sky-blue gown seemed to indicate there was a severe shortage of silkworms in the world, but Layla definitely had the bosom for such a frugal use of cloth. “That dress is absurdly flattering on you.”

“I have to remember to hold in my stomach,” Layla said, heading for the door, Edie’s empty glass still clutched in one hand. “Oh, there you are, Willikins. Why don’t you pour me another glass, and I’ll drink it while I think about a cloak.”

Edie took the glass from her and handed it to a footman. “Our carriage, please, Willikins. Almack’s awaits.”

“As does the carriage, Lady Edith,” the butler replied, bowing. He turned to the footman and took Layla’s cloak in his hands. “My lady, if you will allow me.”

“Those rabbits, the ones with baby bunnies, know what they’re about,” Layla said, as Willikins draped the cloak about her shoulders. “Besides, Edie, I’ve changed my mind. We’re not going to Almack’s. They don’t have any champagne there. We shall go to Lady Chuttle’s instead.”

“Who is Lady Chuttle?”

“A remote acquaintance. Ordinarily I would dismiss a ball of hers as a trifle vulgar, but that was before I received this.” She pulled a crumpled note from her reticule. “I sent a note to your father requesting that he accompany us to Almack’s. This is his reply.”

Edie flattened it out. Only two lines long, his note expressed regret at being unable to attend them at Almack’s, as he had accepted a prior invitation. “How did you know that he plans to attend Lady Chuttle’s ball instead?”

“I didn’t have to be told. I was quite aware that a man in his situation would visit that particular event, so I simply replied, informing him that we would meet him there.”

“What if he has an entirely different appointment?”

“Where else would he be going?” Layla demanded, with magnificent disregard for the presence of the butler and two footmen. “He’ll be escorting Winifred, no doubt. I might just mention rabbits to your father if I see him. Just drop the word into the conversation and see whether it gives him any ideas.”