In the Money With You (The Ladies Alpine Society #2)

Chapter Three

L eo read the same letter over and over again. His client, Mr. Philby III, wanted him to do a thing. But what was that thing? Dear God, Mrs. Cabot had positively ruined him. If the nights before he’d kissed her had been troublesome, the ones after had been excruciating. The dreams were in all manners—soft and loving, but also quick and hard—no. This was not the time or place to recall his illicit fantasies. He must focus on his actual work. Adjusting investment shares and confirming dividend payouts.

There was no magic to his work. It was merely tracking numbers, which required organization. It was his own nature that bent him toward secrecy. He glanced behind him at the botanical labels he’d used. The labels she had figured out with merely a glance. If only he could hire an assistant that astute. Should he redo his filing system? Any new label would still be obvious to her. He could use a code similar to semaphore. Or still use Morse code, but have a simple substitution code hidden inside that could be color-coded?

It didn’t matter. Unless he changed how the clients were systemically identified, there was little point in redoing the labels. She knew how he organized his business. That irked him. He didn’t like that she’d seen something in him that he hadn’t allowed her to see. But the look in her eye after they’d kissed led him to believe she didn’t remember much.

That, at least, was gratifying. His pride might be at the end of his priority list, but it still existed. Having a woman melt in one’s arms definitely buoyed one’s sense of self. He’d sent flowers the next day. Calla lilies. Not roses, not daisies. Nothing so obvious. There was the language of flowers that Society prattled on about, not that he cared one whit for it. He didn’t. Nor did he know what calla lilies meant. What he did know was that they were rare and expensive. They didn’t care for the constant damp of England.

He hoped she liked them. No note of thanks was delivered to his doorstep. Nor did she send a note regarding her availability for an appointment to discuss their actual business: the budget for the Ladies’ Alpine Society’s fundraiser. Still a ridiculous idea, but it wasn’t his society, and they didn’t want his ideas.

Still, he felt himself thinking about grand parties that had taken place in the affluent houses of his boarding school mates. There had even been descriptions of Mary Queen of Scots’s three-day party, where an entire boat was sailed into the dining room to serve guests their fish course. Complete with the Greek gods and goddesses draping themselves about the rigging.

At least thinking about a silly party would get his mind off of Mrs. Cabot’s honey-colored curls wrapped around his finger. The taste of sweetness on her lips. He needed to go for a walk before his body screamed for release. He stood, leaving a project undone, a letter unread, and his business scattered about his desk. So very unlike him. But he felt certain that if he could simply engage in this affair with Mrs. Cabot, his desire would fizzle over the course of the Season, she would leave on her asinine aspiration to climb that great Swiss hill, and he would get back to his regular routine.

This business was ideal for both of them, despite it costing him nearly every part of his moral decency to suggest. But he was glad he’d risked it, for both their sakes. He put on his hat and grabbed his walking stick. He didn’t require a cane, but it was still handy in case of urchins or bounders. As he walked, he found himself wanting to whistle—a strange occurrence as well. He was not a man who whistled, drew attention to himself in any way, or was so oblivious to his surroundings.

He curtailed the urge, and instead listened intently as he strolled in Hyde Park, catching fragments of conversations. Old habits died hard, and vigilance had kept him and his mother safe for too long. Fortunately, all anyone seemed to be talked about was the upcoming Season, and the cost of silk.

“Leo! I say, Leopold Moon, you old devil.” A man dismounted from a horse a few feet away as Leo turned to face him.

It took a moment to recognize the man, but it was Eyeball in the flesh. “Eyeball?”

The man laughed. His shoulders were twice the size they were the last time he’d seen his old school chum. Were they chums? Not really. Acquaintances. Fellow scholarship students and bullied outcasts. They’d both been scrawny things once upon a time. But Eyeball was the son of an impoverished viscount, who took up rowing. It broadened his shoulders. Suddenly, what the boys had all mocked him for—having one eye a different color than the other—became a siren song to older women. “In the flesh. As are you. I wondered what happened to you.”

Leo ducked his head politely. He had not taken up rowing—not then and not now. He’d found his safety in doing other boys’ work for a fee. He had the time, not to mention schoolwork was laughably easy. He’d been running gambling odds for his father for years. School had been simple. Except for the people part. “You’re a viscount now, I believe.”

Eyeball tried his best to look humble and sheepish, which he wasn’t terribly good at. Leo had always been able to see right through him. His avarice, his desire for his title and respect.

Before they entered university, he bedded an older wealthy widow. She kitted him out in fine clothes, personal effects, and taught him about the finer things in life. The correct wines, the best hotels. He’d worked his way through several women, garnering wealth each time. His name was his own, but Leo found Eyeball’s ways to be morally reprehensible. He used the women for their influence, money, and power.

“The old man finally departed. Poor fellow was infirm for longer than was polite.” The sun caught his face through the dappled spring leaves, illuminating his one blue, one green eye.

The man wasn’t good with words, so at least Leo could take comfort in that. “Are you in town to take your seat in the House of Lords?”

“Last month, yes. Decided to stay for the Season.”

“Surely you don’t need the Season to keep yourself company.” How many women had he bedded by now? The count must be astronomical.

Eyeball chuckled. “Don’t you understand, Leo? I’m a viscount now. And a lord is always in need of a wife. Carry on the lineage, all that.”

Leo made a noncommittal noise. Lineage didn’t matter if there was no money to go with it. It seemed to mean inheriting debt from poor investments, houses too old to be maintained, and herds of sheep and cattle.

“Speaking of, good friend. I hear you are associated with Drummonds?”

Leo shook his head. “No, I’m a private banker.”

Eyeball gave him a sideways smile that Leo associated with con men. Mostly because his father had been one. “With which bank?”

Leo tipped his hat. “I must be off. Good day, my lord.” He began walking before Eyeball could catch up. He didn’t trust the man, and men he didn’t trust didn’t deserve his time.

“Wait now, Leo.” The man trotted after him, his horse on a lead behind him. “What has you cagey? Are you doing illegitimate business?” He grinned, looking annoyingly like the boy who’d been his friend so long ago.

Leo stopped in his tracks, suppressing all the desire he had to sigh or squeeze his eyes shut in exasperation. He stared down Eyeball. Enough of Leo’s life had been disreputable. He’d been disreputable since birth, and he was trying his best to make up for that. “Of course not.”

“I hear that you are the man to know when building a fortune. I’d like to give you my business.” Eyeball said, finally coming clean with his intent. “Legitimate or otherwise.”

“So you ambushed me in the park instead of making an appointment?” Leo’s palms were sweating, and he wasn’t sure why.

“I’d heard you were very selective about your clientele, and I hoped our old school days connection would aid my appeal.”

Leo shook his head. “Do you forget that we were both scholarship students? Your father hadn’t two shillings, let alone enough for me to work with.”

“Yes, well, times have changed.” Eyeball glared back at him. “Don’t be snobbish with me now, old chum.”

Leo arranged his face in the politest expression he could muster. “I am not taking on new clients at the moment. My roster is full. Should you still be in need of assistance, you can check back with me next year.” This time he gave a formal bow, one that could not be mistaken for anything but cold dismissal.

“I’m not even sure what you do, exactly, Leo. That’s what I want to find out. So I can do it on my own.” Eyeball called after him. “Just give me the basics, I’ll catch on after that.”

Leo turned on his heel. “If I gave away my secrets, my demand would fall. I think not. Good day.”

*

“Georgie, I’m getting you your own suite.” Prudence had thought and thought and thought. She’d lain in her bed, soft and comfortable with a goose-down tick both above and below her, and thought. She’d breakfasted at the dining table, the pale-yellow walls accented with white chair railings and crown molding gleaming, while she took her coffee and toast and thought. She pretended to read the newspaper, seated in her lounge, the rich cream-colored damask glinting gold in the brilliant morning sun streaming through the large windows, while she thought.

If she were to embark on a tryst, a full-on affair, she had to sort a few things first. Namely, privacy and birth control. She couldn’t be gossiped about, and she certainly could not become pregnant. Not for the scandal, and not for the mountain climb ahead of her.

Ophelia was demanding training days as a group be reinstated, which only made sense. They needed to see each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Next year around this time, they’d be boarding a ship to France to begin what could be a month-long journey, given weather and political conditions. Any time with Mr. Moon would have to be built around those mandatory meetings.

But the biggest obstacle was Georgie, her paid companion. She could dismiss the woman entirely, true, but a companion was there to ensure her respectability. Dismissing her would signal either poverty or scandal.

Georgie, for her part, just blinked at Prudence. The young woman had many excellent qualities: Georgie could haul luggage like an ox, never believed anyone at face value, and was loyal to a fault.

“Why?” Georgie asked. She was pretty enough, with dark hair and large dark eyes.

“Don’t you want your own space?” Prudence asked, hoping to distract her. But Georgie was tenacious.

“Is there something I’ve done wrong?” Georgie asked, a line forming between her two dark brows.

“Not at all,” Prudence assured her. In fact, Georgie was far better as a companion than she ever could have hoped. She was the niece of the housekeeper they’d had in upstate New York. She was young, uninterested in marriage, and not terribly good at working in service. She didn’t possess the ability to be obsequious, which apparently often bothered her employers.

Since Prudence didn’t mind Georgie considering them equals, their travels had worked well. Georgie stayed in her room during social outings, slowly reading her novels or mending clothes. Which was to say, Georgie was slow, but she wasn’t unintelligent. The opposite. But one could not make her go any faster than the pace she went.

“I’d like to give you some space,” Prudence said. “To let you explore London and find your own society, and be a young woman in an exciting place. Your pay should be adequate to find some amusement somewhere.”

“And I need my own room for this?” Georgie asked.

“You need to be untethered from me. I’ll be busy with the alpine training at early hours of the morning. I shouldn’t need to disturb you for that. You aren’t my maid.”

“I can close my door. I’m a heavy sleeper.” Georgie slipped the bookmark into her novel and set it aside, giving Prudence her full attention, which was precisely what Prudence didn’t want.

The two women stared at each other, a good-natured and generous stand-off that could not be ended until the truth was out. Georgie looked at her expectantly.

Finally Prudence caved. There was no other way around Georgie than the truth. “There’s a man.” Prudence confessed, her lips throbbing in memory of Mr. Moon’s kiss.

Georgie gave a faint triumphant smile, but said nothing.

“I’m trying to be discreet.” Because she wanted so much more than a kiss, if she were honest.

Georgie still said nothing, not offering judgement nor opinion.

“I’m not even sure I want to begin an affair, but this was the entire reason I came across the ocean. To have an affair with a man who wouldn’t know me. Wouldn’t know Gregory. Someone I wouldn’t worry over, pine over—”

“Love?” Georgie suggested.

Prudence pointed at her as if she’d just said the most brilliant thing in the history of the world. “Exactly. A fling. An affair de coeur . The kind men have all the time with no consequences to their reputations and professional and business lives.” Except, if all that were true, she would have an affair without putting it off by arranging rooms and appointments.

“That I understand.” Georgie pulled her novel back onto her lap. “Tell me which room to move into, and I will pack my bags.”

Her companion’s statement left Prudence wondering about her—what was it that Georgie wanted that made her understand Prudence’s desire for a love affair? Not that it mattered at the moment, anyway. She would find out later. Now, she had a room to rent, maids to notify, and then, when she was feeling bold enough, an appointment to make.

*

Leo arranged a luncheon for his mother. She would go to Verrey’s for her meal, and then to Charbonnel et Walker’s for drinking chocolate and truffles. Since she’d be on Bond Street, he also suggested treating herself to a new frock.

Mrs. Moon was no fool, unfortunately. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you kicking me out of my own home? Do you have some kind of... strumpet coming?” She spat out the word with all the force of her disdain.

“No. Not at all, mother.” Leo gave her the sternest look in his arsenal, which was nothing compared to his mother’s. She didn’t so much as bat an eye. “If you must know, I have a client arriving who demands secrecy. He doesn’t wish anyone to know we are working together.” With that one pronoun switch, he lied to his mother. He hadn’t lied to his mother in decades.

“Who is this supposed client?” she demanded.

“If you must know, it’s an old school acquaintance,” Leo said, remembering his encounter with Eyeball in the park.

“No, absolutely not. Those blue-blooded nincompoops treated you terribly. I’ll not let you alone here without anyone to defend you!”

“Mother. I’m no longer a schoolboy, instructed to not use my fists. I can handle this.” Leo was surprised and even touched by his mother’s vehemence. Decrepit in body now, she still had the vigor of the tigress she once was.

“Who? Which one is it? I’ll write to their mothers if they abuse you.” His mother shook her arthritic fist.

“For your information, it’s Eyeball, so you needn’t worry.”

“Pah,” she said, waving her hand. “He’s fine, then. He understood money better than all the rest of them. What does he need of secrecy? Especially from me?”

“He is in search of a wife and doesn’t want there to be talk of his former poverty.”

“Ah,” his mother said, nodding her approval. “There are quite enough other rumors going about of him anyway. He’s never been a stranger to the ladies. That will no doubt help him secure a wife just as well as a flush pocket!”

“Mother!” Leo’s stomach lurched. The idea of Eyeball being pursued by his mother was the most nauseating thought he’d ever heard of.

She shook her head. “The gossip is consistent, if nothing else. But fine, pass my regards along, while I go enjoy myself and spend all of your money. That’ll show you.”

Leo inclined his head, wincing. She would be extravagant just to spite him. No feather, no jewel, no imported wine would be too good for Mrs. Moon.

He practically pushed her out the door and into the waiting carriage. Two footmen would accompany her, both to carry her should her knees ache too badly, and also to handle any and all packages she might accrue. He had no doubt she would return with the riches of the Empire nestled in ribboned boxes.

He asked for a tea tray to be brought to his study and then gave the remaining servant, the maid, the rest of the day off. The cook was asked to prep a supper of cold meats and cheese, and then she too was dismissed. Both women were happy to oblige Leo’s unprecedented whim.

So at four o’clock, when there was a knock at the door, Leo himself opened it. For it was not Eyeball coming to call.

Mrs. Cabot seemed taken aback. “Good day, Mr. Moon.”

“Mrs. Cabot.” He ushered her inside. “May I take your hat?”

She looked lovely. Her honeyed hair was in the same style as last week, with single curls escaping her coif, waiting for his greedy hands. The color in her cheeks was high, and it might have been the walk that caused it, or perhaps her anticipation of their meeting? A man could hope.

She wore a pink and cream day dress, with a tailored bodice to resemble a man’s coat. It should have had a masculine effect, but on her, there was no such thing as masculine. It emphasized her slim waist, her strong shoulders, and pert breasts. He needed to stop staring.

“I suppose I should visit your mother first,” she said, not meeting his eye.

Was she nervous? “Then I ought to tell you my mother is out for the day.” He waited for her to look up at him. Instead, she glanced up the stairs at the drawing room.

“What is she up to?”

“Dining at Verrey’s, visiting the Queen’s chocolatier, and perhaps ordering dresses with the intent to bankrupt me.”

Her gray eyes finally met his, and she smiled. “From what I understand, that’s a herculean task.”

He raised his eyebrows, not bothering to keep his stoic mask in place. “Do you believe I am that wealthy?”

Her smile widened. Honestly, with teeth that perfect, it would be a shame not to show them. “Does the pope wear a funny hat?”

He sputtered, surprised. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that expression.”

“I hope I didn’t offend.”

He suspected that it was a test. Some way that she could see if he was tough enough to withstand her American manners. Her frontier spirit. “England is an Anglican nation. You’ll have to go to Spain to offend the Catholics.”

“Not what I meant.”

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing towards his study. He offered his arm. Any excuse to touch her. Strange as she was.

Almost hesitantly, she threaded her arm through his. He couldn’t look at her. Not this close. Not with her gazing at him, as if waiting for him to explain a magic trick.

His heart sped, but he walked them slowly to his study. The sitting area, off in the corner of the room, was rarely used, but it was where the maid set up the tea tray. His intent was to start off casually, politely, then ease her into kissing and make plans for more. “Tea?” He steered them toward the chaise longue and chair.

She resisted, so he stopped. “Mr. Moon. We have business to attend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but they were insistent. “I hoped we could discuss it over tea.”

Color rushed to her cheeks. “Not that business. Though that too. I mean our business that we never spoke of during our last encounter. The fundraising ball.”

He tried not to be disappointed, but he was. He dropped her arm and gestured to the other side of his room, where his desk sat. His desk, full of work. Full of demands. Full of numbers and columns and statistics and speculations. Definitely not full of a perfumed, honeyed woman who might melt in his arms, as if she were a lemon sweet.

“I’ll not disappoint my friends, Mr. Moon,” she said, sitting in the chair opposite his desk. She fished a paper out of her reticule and cleared her throat. “These are the numbers I’m currently anticipating. I’m not entirely sure what the party will entail, of course. Adjustments might need to be made.”

“Perhaps you ought to call me Leo,” he said, coming around his desk. He took the paper and opened the ledger for the Ladies’ Alpine Society. He read the list. “You have an item here for wild animals?”

“Yes. Miss Brewer’s idea. She thought wild animals would be a particular draw.”

“And how much ice?” He was utterly confused. Were they throwing a party or putting together a circus?

“Miss Bridwell’s idea. She wants the theme to be ice, since even though we will climb the Matterhorn next summer, it will still be covered in ice.”

“And how will you display this ice?” Leo asked.

She smiled brightly. “Haven’t the foggiest.”

“I don’t think I need to tell you that this is an... aspirational budget.” He hoped she understood that the Ladies’ Alpine Society could not handle this kind of expense. No one could. Not now. The global economy was not what it was a century ago when the rich were fabulously rich, and the poor had nothing but the clothes on their backs.

“I believe if we put a number on the budget, then it’s a starting place. Once actual plans come into being, we will know where to whittle it down.”

“Whittle it down?” Leo asked. It did occur to him that Mrs. Cabot was shifting in her chair as if she were agitated and also that she had not invited him to use her given name. Both circumstances were disappointing. “This is astronomical.”

“It’s not really your decision, is it?” Her tone sharpened. “You were very clear that you were not a party planner. You didn’t want to be involved, so fine, it’s my problem and my problem alone.”

“That’s not—”

“No, your priority is the math. And believe me, I understand. When the math works, the world is grand. When it doesn’t, someone gets fired or worse.”

“Where did you—”

“I’ve done my fair share of budgets, Leo .”

Damn it all. This is not how today was supposed to go. “Why don’t we calm down and—”

“—Do not tell me to calm down.”

He watched blood pulse in her neck. It was strangely erotic. He was noticing every bit of her, and she grew more magnificent with every inch he noticed. Which was incredibly poor timing because it seemed she would rather throw things at his head.

“You will help me with this budget.” Anything she said in that tone of voice made him want to comply instantaneously. Preferably without his clothes.

“Of course.” He took a step back, wanting her to feel comfortable.

She looked away and shook her head, her jaw tensed and pulsing. “I shouldn’t have come. I thought, well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. You’re just like the others.”

That put a damper on his ardor. He straightened his spine and let his business mask fall into place. “If you would give me specifics, I should like to prove to you otherwise.”

“You think that because I am a woman, I can’t possibly understand a simple ledger.”

He folded his hands on his desk. “It is my turn to insist that you do not tell me what I think.”

“I don’t have to, do I? It’s evident in the way you treat me.” She stood and paced behind her chair.

“Would you like to know what I am thinking?” Leo tried to smile at her, he really did. He was not known for the gesture, however, and it might have made things worse.

She shot him a look like he was the village idiot.

“I’m doing my best to not seduce you. I’m trying to focus on business, but I find it damnably hard to do so when I see your blood thrumming in your neck. I’m thinking of all the things I could do to make your blood pulse like that.”

Her posture softened, and she licked her lips. It was what he’d hoped to see.

“I’m wondering if you taste like honey, and if it’s anything like the honey color of your hair,” he continued. “I want your fingers in my hair as I coax you to climax, and I want my fingers in yours when I do. So you see, I am unable to tell if your budget is worthwhile or not. I do not disrespect your mind, Mrs. Cabot. I find that your presence has eclipsed my capacity to do my work.”

Her eyes burned into him. “Is this how you conduct your business?”

He kept his voice calm and even. “Only with you. I have not bedded a woman in several years. I don’t believe in adultery, and I haven’t the patience for a paid mistress.”

She folded her arms across her chest, serving only to accentuate her mouth-watering breasts. He breathed through his nose slowly, maintaining his control. That thin veneer that kept him from leaping over the desk and taking her like a rutting animal. “You expect me to believe that?”

“It is the truth. I can’t see why you wouldn’t believe that. I have not shown myself to be dishonest in any way.”

“Because I am not the sort of woman who inspires lust in a man. That’s not who I am.”

“As you so eloquently put it earlier, madame: do not tell me how to feel.” He stood, painfully aware of the erection straining his trousers. If she needed proof, he was happy to let her explore it. “You are a smart, capable woman. I’ve done my due diligence and discovered that you made your fortune what it is. Your husband’s money was nothing but a seed when you married him.”

She shook her head. “It was timing—I merely—”

“Don’t downplay your accomplishments Mrs. Cabot. You are a formidable businesswoman.” He came around his desk, walking slowly toward her as if she were a deer that might leap away at the slightest scare. “You smile and smile, tricking your companions into thinking you’re so amiable you must be empty-headed. I can see the gears working inside your mind right now. You have solutions three different ways for every problem. You are always prepared.” He stopped in front of her. “Until this.”

She looked away, the color again high in her cheeks. Her eyes closed, fluttering, as if she was protesting without words.

He could smell her. The scent of her rose-scented soap, the silky talcum powder on her skin, and underneath that, he could swear he smelled the scent of arousal. It made his eyes want to roll back into his head. “I am struggling, madame. We made an agreement to begin an affair. I could have kept these thoughts from my mind had you not heard my proposal. But I find that since you have not dismissed the idea, all I can think of is you.”

Her breath hitched and came faster.

He did not touch her. No, not without permission. But he scented her, following the crux between her shoulder and her neck, up, up, teasing those honeyed curls, behind her ear, to her closed eyes. His throat was dry. “I can smell you,” he growled. “I can smell your wanting.”

“I—” she whispered, opening her eyes to look at him.

His gaze caught on hers. “Anything.”

“You’ll stop if I say stop?” she asked. “No matter when?”

“No. Matter. When.” He met her eyes with every word, wanting her to know that his desire was loud, but her needs were louder. “Don’t be afraid to stop me.”

Their lips were millimeters from each other. The taste of her teased him. He remembered it from last time.

“Then, okay.” Her voice trembled. She sounded uncertain, which he didn’t like.

“I will only take the most enthusiastic encouragement or none at all. I have no interest in goading a woman into relations.” He searched her eyes, her face. Dear God, he wanted her to say yes in the worst way.

She straightened her shoulders, looked him straight in the eye and said, “Give it your best shot, Mr. Moon. Make me scream your name or I don’t want any more.”

He grinned. “My pleasure.” A second later, he’d pulled her face to his with both hands, kissing her greedily. She tasted better than anyone he’d ever kissed in his life. It was intoxication, lust, blindness to all other things. He’d never been so focused in his life. As he kissed her, he guided her to his desk.

Her hands roamed his chest and shoulders and hair, exploring him just as he did her. Damn it all, why were there so many clothes? He pushed her to sit on the desk, spreading her legs until the long skirt went taut.

“Tell me I can use your name,” he panted, rucking up her skirts to her thighs. He marveled at the strong, shapely legs encased in white silk stockings. He stepped back, running his hands from her booted ankles to her mid-thigh. Just a hands-width from her cunny. So very close. He could smell her scent again, powerful this time.

“You may,” she panted, watching him as he enjoyed her.

He licked his lips. There were so many things to do, to try, to experience with her. “Prudence,” he whispered. “My dear, dear Prudence. What do you like?”

“I’m sorry?” she asked, an adorable crease between her eyebrows formed.

He let go of her ankle and leaned in to kiss that line, bracing his hands on the desk on either side of her. “What do you like? What makes you scream?”

“I don’t know,” she stammered. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Nothing makes you scream? Then I have my work cut out for me.” He kissed her again, this time scooping up her thighs and pulling him flush against him. His hardness met softness and she gave a startled moan. He smiled against her mouth. “That seemed promising.”

Their bodies pushing against each other, he freed his hands to work the buttons on her bodice. With three large buttons on her waistcoat, and a hidden secure button on the inside, he pulled the garment off her shoulders. She wore a white, sleeveless shift with a corset underneath. Her breasts were pushed up, encased in fine, ruffled linen. He traced his finger from her temple down her cheek, her chin, her neck, down to the middle of her chest, and into the dark well between her breasts. This was fast. Too fast maybe, but she hadn’t stopped him. Hadn’t protested the speed at which he took his liberties. “I think you would like being worshipped.”

She let her head fall back. “Who wouldn’t?”

He laughed and kissed his way down the line he’d just traced with his finger. He lapped at her breasts, cursing her corset, but careful not to dislodge it. Women’s undergarments were tricky, and he didn’t want her leaving his house looking like she’d done what they were doing now.

*

Prudence was dizzy with his attentions. No one had ever looked at her like this. Gregory had never traced her legs, looked at her as if she were somewhere between a chocolate mousse and a goddess. She let her head fall back as Leo kissed her neck, and then down to her breasts.

Somewhere inside her, she ached. She ached for having never experienced this kind of seduction before. She ached for all she had missed, and for wanting more. His hands were hot, tracing her corset, tugging at her thighs. His hardness pushed against the crux of her body. This wasn’t like it had been with Gregory at all, who seemed at times embarrassed at his own stirrings. Still, he’d tried to have her enjoy his time with her, but he seemed so ashamed of it. Like he was doing something wrong. Which made Prudence wonder if she was somehow untoward.

But Mr. Moon. Leo. He was devouring her like a starving man, letting lose an animal that had scented blood.

“I want to touch your quim,” Leo said in between kisses.

She made a noise in her throat. It was the best she could do.

His kisses slowed. “Prudence. I need to know you want me to. Say yes. Dear God, please say yes.”

“Yes,” she breathed, and his hand snaked between them, finding the slit in the linen bloomers she wore. She gasped when his fingers found her wetness.

His other hand came to her neck, and he slid up to cradle her head, bringing her to look at him. The fire in his eyes was new and strange. “I want to see it.”

“See what?” she panted, as his fingers found the hard nub that sent pleasure shooting down to her toes. Her thighs tensed against his.

“I want to see your face when you come. You’re so beautiful. Pretty, pretty Prudence.” His fingers tightened in her hair. He leaned forward and nipped at her lips.

She no longer felt in control of her own body. She clutched at his biceps to keep her balance. He was pulled as taut as a piano wire, all steel and barely contained lust. He wanted her so badly, and that was heady in and of itself. He nudged her back, and she let him take her erect nipple into his mouth.

And suddenly, it was all too much. Her thighs flexed and her feet pointed straight until it hurt, and then pleasure flooded her and she cried out.

He lifted his head. “There we are,” Leo breathed into her neck.

She shivered again, an echo of the first.

“My God, you’re powerful,” he said.

Prudence could barely lift her head to look at him. Every limb was full of warm lead, heavy and wonderful and thick. “I beg your pardon?”

He smiled. “Your legs. I thought you might crush me.”

She snorted and leaned back on her elbows. “Ophelia has us running three days a week in the mornings, and climbing stairs on the off days.”

“Poor thing,” he murmured. “Perhaps you need a massage?” He took a step back and lifted her leg so he could knead her calf muscle.

“What about you?” she asked. In her experience, which was limited to Gregory, to be honest, he typically came right after she did, or right before.

“I am enjoying myself immensely,” Leo assured her.

“But what about—you know.” Why was it she could engage in illicit behavior but couldn’t talk about it?

“My orgasm?” he asked, smiling at her. “Oh, I don’t need one right away. For if I do, this playing will end, and I’m not ready for it to be over.”

Leo Moon was actually smiling at her. Prudence never thought she’d see the day. His fingers had also done some sort of magic in her nether parts, which was also unexpected. She hadn’t known men to be so attentive. In fact, this was not how she’d imagined their tryst. It was far better.

“One of the amazing and wonderful things about women is that they don’t have to pause between orgasms. Some do, but most don’t.”

Prudence frowned. “Really?”

His smile vanished. “Have you not explored that?”

“When would I explore that?” Prudence asked. She’d never had a bed to herself. She was either with her sisters or with Gregory. Well, until he got truly sick, but then the last thing she wanted to do was explore orgasming. It was exhausting taking care of him, even with the help they’d had.

“When you are on your own.” He leaned and planted a kiss on her silk-clad calf.

“I’m rarely alone—and never before now.”

“Do you want to explore it?” he asked.

“Is water wet?” she asked, using her father’s expression.

“Yes, and so are you.” Leo gently let her leg drop as he got to his knees. “Let me see how wet.”

“What are you doing?” Prudence braced herself on the desk as he wrapped his arms around either thigh and pulled her to the very edge.

“Exploring,” Leo said, and then he opened his mouth.

It was his tongue she felt. Soft and smooth and licking at her.

He hummed. “It does taste like honey.”

With his head between her legs, she lost all shame and self-consciousness. She gripped his hair in one of her fists and bucked against his face. She gave an incoherent yell and saw stars. Actual stars. She’d thought Eleanor had made that up when she’d whispered it to her, wanting to share her wedding night experiences.

Leo chuckled and sat back, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his mouth.

Prudence slumped back on the desk. “Witchcraft,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

“Sherry?” he asked.

“Got any bourbon?” she asked, still not opening her eyes. Her limbs felt like they were underwater. How did he make her feel so good so fast? It was uncanny.

“I have scotch,” he said.

“That’ll do.” She sighed. The desk was quickly growing uncomfortable. She turned and looked over to the much plusher-looking chaise. Grunting, she sat up and straightened her skirts to find a pleasanter place to relax.

“You’ll put your scent on all your clothes if you sit down there,” Leo commented, pouring two tumblers.

“Pardon?” Her brain was not working correctly. What scent was he talking about?

“There are two things you could do. One is to use a rag and clean yourself. The other, which is what I would prefer, is that when you recline on the chaise, you hook one leg over the back and air yourself out.”

“Am I laundry?”

He chuckled, following her with two glasses. “Will you allow me?”

Her limbs were full of sawdust and stars and she would let him put his hands on any part of her. He maneuvered her to a reclining position, making sure her skirts were up, and not wrinkling beneath her. He lifted one leg up over the crest of the chaise, and the other slightly bent with her foot resting on the floor. Her cunt was fully exposed.

Leo handed her the Scotch, and moved the chair over to the foot of the chaise. He settled in and smiled.

“Enjoying the view?” she asked. Normally she wouldn’t have agreed to this. But she was more than aware that he had yet to take his pleasure, and that this afternoon was far from over. Seduction was quite intoxicating. The smoky Scotch burned her throat, and more drowsy pleasure flooded her.

“Immensely.” He sipped at his own glass.

“Do you have anything you wish to talk about?” Was this part of his game? Pretending to have a polite conversation?

“Whatever you wish.” His eyes darted between her face and her legs. There was something almost animal-like in his expression. As if the razor-sharp mind was not resident in his body at the moment. All of it was replaced by the man who’d licked her until she saw stars.

“What do you like?” she asked. “In bed, I mean.”

“I like an enthusiastic partner.” His eyes now stayed fixed between her legs.

“What else? Do you enjoy doing what you just did? Licking me?” She bit her lip. This was as bold as she’d ever been.

“I do, yes. Especially when you come from it. I know that I’ve done well.”

“And reciprocated?” She’d never done it, though she knew from some of the books and pamphlets she’d found in Gregory’s library that it was possible.

“Yes. As long as my partner enjoys doing it. Would you like to?”

A blush of all things stung Prudence’s cheeks. “Perhaps next time?”

“Yes,” Leo nodded. “Next time. Right now, I don’t want to stop this.”

“Are we doing something?”

“I am. I’m watching how wet you become with whatever we talk about. It is fascinating. And particularly educational for me.” He sipped his scotch.

“I didn’t realize.” She started to close her legs, but he leaned forward and stopped her.

“Touch yourself,” he said. “And I will, too. I want to come at the same time.”

She frowned. “Don’t men want to be inside a woman?”

“That is fun too. But today, let’s do this.” Leo said, unbuttoning his trousers. His cock sprang forth, hard and buoyant. It curved a bit to the left, and it was the same but altogether different from Gregory’s.

Leo’s cock was longer, a bit thinner, and paler. She wanted to touch it, just to see what it felt like. Would it feel the same?

“If you don’t want to, say so,” Leo croaked. “But if you want, put your fingers where you’ll enjoy it most.”

“Okay.” She slid her fingers into the wetness between her legs. His eyes were on her hands, and as she moved slowly, he fisted his cock.

“Funny word,” he said. “But at least I know what it means now.”

She swirled her fingers around, finding a soft, easy rhythm. Leo pumped his cock at the same rate. His face grew flushed, and she watched his eyes change. His brows came together. And she felt hers reflect the same way.

Without realizing it, her hips bucked. Leo hissed as he watched.

“Leo,” she panted. “I think—”

He kept pumping with one hand, and grabbed the kerchief he’d cleaned himself with earlier and wrapped it around his cock.

“Are you going to come?” she squeaked.

He nodded and closed his eyes. His hips bucked off the chair, the red kerchief pumping and catching his seed as he came.

She was there too, climaxing, her knee flexing against the chaise, causing the furniture to creak as she came harder than the other two times. When she opened her eyes, she saw Leo slumped in the chair, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. It was the most relaxed she’d ever seen him.

He was more handsome this way, if that were possible. With all those harsh planes of his face no longer pulled taut, he was softer. Kinder looking. Like he might tell a joke any moment. She wanted to know that Leo. Not to say the focused, elegant Leo who had coaxed her into three orgasms wasn’t a lovely companion.

She picked up her scotch tumbler from the floor and sipped at it. She didn’t care about her rumpled clothes or her likely mussed coiffure. This had been a revelation. The burn of the scotch her throat was perfect. She sighed, letting out yet another layer of tension. “Leo, you are magic.”

He chuckled and lifted his head, opening one eye at her. “I should accuse you of the very same thing.”

“I came three times. You only got one.”

“Yes, but I thought I might lose my testicles in the force of it.” He groaned as he cleaned himself and tucked himself back in. When he was done, he took a sip of his own scotch. Then he put his hand up. “I almost forgot.”

He stood and went to his desk, procuring another rag. He crossed the room again and handed her the handkerchief.

“Such a gentleman.”

He smiled. “Anything but, madame.”

Prudence wiped herself clean and straightened her skirts, sitting up. “That was... more than I’d hoped for, actually.”

Leo looked up at her, fixing her with that unsettling focus. “Stay longer, then, and I’ll show you more.”

Prudence shook her head. “Ophelia has us running early tomorrow. I can’t. I need my legs to work.”

“Then tomorrow night.”

Prudence didn’t want to be the one sneaking out of a house at odd hours. If she were stopped or recognized, it would be a disaster. But for Leo, no one would bat an eyelash at him skulking about at odd hours. Men’s intimate lives were not to be questioned.

“I’ve sent my companion to another suite. I will be alone in mine now.”

Leo’s forehead creased in amusement. “Is that so?”

“I may have been putting things in place the last few days.” Prudence sipped the last of her scotch.

“Is that what took so long?” Leo asked, crossing his legs.

He was such a picture of English elegance. It wasn’t just the pose, the scotch, or even the clothes. There was something almost too perfect about it. Studied, even. It was like watching the difference between a woman born as a proper lady versus the middle-class women who elevated themselves with their strict mannerisms in imitation.

Leo’s affect was intoxicating. And almost effortless. But it bothered her in some way. Like she knew this was a show for her benefit. Despite it, she still trusted him some way. This intimacy, the way he’d treated her, always making sure she wanted to continue the way he’d suggested, it felt real. He was taking care of her, in his own way.

“So tomorrow night then? A late supper?”

“If you like,” Prudence felt suddenly shy. Her chest felt heavy with anticipation and nerves.

“I can bring wine. Or scotch, if you prefer.”

“Or I can bring out the bourbon I have stashed away for special occasions.” Prudence looked at the tea tray laid out on the table next to the chaise, forgotten and cold. He had tried to steer her in this direction, and she’d refused. She’d wanted to get business conducted, and had they even accomplished anything? Her mind was foggy about everything before he kissed her. She couldn’t even remember how it started. What did this man do to her?

“I’d be honored.” He threw back the last of his scotch, maintaining his eye contact with her. Something about his expression was different. A wryness, a crack of opening and familiarity in that face. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she liked it.