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

Chapter Four

“Y ou seem more relaxed,” Justine remarked, looking her up and down. They all stretched in Ophelia’s extensive garden, wearing the old-fashioned jumps instead of corsets because they worked better for running. Their skirts were shorter than normal so they didn’t trip. Their blouses were cotton and loose. They would sweat into them and it would be challenging to get the scent of hard work out.

Prudence certainly didn’t want to tell Justine why she was more relaxed. So she gave her big Minnesota smile, which never fooled Bad News Brewer. “I slept very well last night.” Which was true.

Eleanor, the only other married woman in the group, which likely meant the only other non-virgin, gave Prudence a conspiratorial smile. Eleanor would never judge or begrudge Prudence for finding a lover. But Prudence didn’t feel like telling her either. This was her secret, for herself alone. She ducked her head and stretched out her calves. They were tight and threatening a spasm since yesterday’s “exercise” in Leo’s study.

“Remember, it isn’t about the speed,” Ophelia said, walking across their group.

“It’s the distance,” the rest of them chimed in.

Prudence liked being in a group again. It reminded her of being with her sisters, a part of something bigger than herself.

“How did the meeting with Mr. Moon go yesterday?” Ophelia asked as they all started a slow jog.

“Fine,” Prudence said. They hadn’t figured out any real numbers or suggestions or a budget. So basically, they’d yelled at one another and then became as intimate as Prudence had ever been with a man. More, really, despite the fact that the ending act was not one of insertion. She’d never seen a man’s face when he finished. It was exciting. Eye-opening, really.

“I can’t believe he went over your head to Ophelia’s father.” Justine made a face of disgust.

“It’s fine,” Prudence insisted. And, now, it seemed like it probably was.

“It isn’t,” Eleanor insisted. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. You had, what was that called? When you looked at our monies after Ben Nevis, to see how much we might need for the Matterhorn?”

“A post-mortem.”

Justine made a face.

“Ghastly word,” Ophelia said.

“My brother is a doctor. That was what they called opening a dead body to see what killed them.”

“Bleh,” Eleanor said. “I’m glad this was just numbers.”

“It’s the only term I can think of that’s appropriate. We stayed close to our budget for the Ben Nevis climb. That’s good. We want that information, as it helps our projections for this next bigger adventure.”

“Speaking of which,” Ophelia said, “we will be needing a hefty sum from the fundraising ball. They just increased ticket prices for the French-Swiss railway line. We could try another, but it saves us weeks of overland travel. It’s the most direct route.”

“Anything could go wrong trying to go south through the Alps.” Eleanor would know about things going wrong. Out of all of them on the Ben Nevis excursion, she was the only one who was hurt. She and Tristan, Ophelia’s brother, fell through a snow cornice and ended up spending the night on the mountain. The rest of them had been sick with worry, but knew they would be of no help if they hurt themselves too. They’d hurried down the mountain and alerted local guides to help mount a search, but it was too late. A storm came through and everyone hunkered down until the next day.

Prudence had listened to the Scottish wind howl across the windows of their small inn, worried that Eleanor and Tristan would be frozen solid when they recovered them the next morning. But in a miracle, they found their way down the mountain on their own the next morning, finding Tristan’s mother camped at the base of the mountain, waiting. Prudence wasn’t surprised when a wedding was announced a few months later. Their mutual longing glances had not gone wholly unnoticed by the rest of the Society.

Still, if anyone would be cautious about accidents, that was Eleanor. And she had a point: the longer they traveled, the more chances there were to be derailed from their goal. Getting to Zermatt and the mountain was already difficult enough.

“How much are we short?” Prudence asked. A firm number would help her figure out exactly what they required.

Ophelia stared at the ground as she jogged. All of them looked at her, their leader, their instigator, their organizer, their friend. “Two thousand pounds.”

Prudence stopped short, feeling like she’d been punched in the chest. She braced her hands on her knees. “You must be joking.”

“How could we be so wildly short?” Eleanor asked. “I thought we were close.”

“We were close,” Ophelia said, circling back to where Prudence hunched over. “But our guides have been up on a failed climb on the Matterhorn recently, and have increased their rates due to the dangers they saw and experienced.”

“By that much?” Prudence asked.

“Well, that, and they insisted we have cash set aside in reserve in case of emergency. If they need to transport one of us out of Zermatt because of injury. And they have been seeing what happened to the guide for Lord Douglas.”

“The court cases?” Eleanor asked.

Justine stepped up at this. “Are they still blaming him? It wasn’t his fault that the ropes failed.”

“But that won’t alleviate his lawyers’ fees.” Prudence stood up. Now she understood. It wasn’t really that they needed the money to get to the Matterhorn, it was that they needed it to ensure they had knowledgeable guides to help them get to the top. Extra hands that knew the terrain. Which meant there was some wiggle room with that number. Money that they could ask to be fronted by investors, if need be. “Let’s keep going.”

The women started their slow introductory jog in silence. Prudence didn’t know what the others thought about, but her mind was churning over the budget for the fundraising ball. What would give them the most return? What would make it seem luxurious while not being all that expensive?

“Justine, what animals were you thinking needed to be at the ball?” Prudence asked.

Justine shrugged, not out of breath at all. She was a machine. “I don’t know. But every party that gets written down has some kind of exotic animal sodding about.”

Prudence wasn’t sure what “sodding” meant, but she was fairly certain it was a rude way to say “wandering.” “What if we cut that part of the budget in half, and use it for something like peacock feathers, or something equally showy?”

Justine gave her a disappointed look but rolled her eyes in acquiescence. “Peacock feathers inside are bad luck, don’t you know that? Means we will all be spinsters for life.”

“Too late,” Eleanor said with a smile.

“So no peacocks at all, then. Ophelia, do you have any more solid ideas for the ice theme?” Prudence asked.

“The only thing I’ve come up with is ice sculptures and sugar sculptures.” Ophelia answered.

“Ice sculptures are not too practical even at the end of summer,” Eleanor pointed out. “We could serve several courses of ices instead?”

“I like your thinking, Eleanor,” Justine said. Her sweet tooth was notorious and exceeded the capacity of anyone Prudence had ever known, including small children.

“So we have a dinner with ice cream between every course?” Prudence asked.

“Ices,” Ophelia corrected. “In England, they are ices.”

“Of course,” Prudence said. “My mistake.”

“Time to pick up the pace!” Justine said, as they rounded the large oak tree in the spacious gardens of Rascomb house. The four of them all sped up, with Justine in the lead. For being so short, the woman could really run.

It was a start. Sugar paste sculptures and ices served between every course at dinner. That was becoming downright affordable. But what would be the meal? She wasn’t a party planner, and did not possess the eye for this sort of extravagance.

She needed help. Though the women of the Ladies’ Alpine Society would help, no question, none of them had an eye for this sort of thing either. But she knew who did.

Mrs. Moon.

*

Leo returned from his walk in the park. It was a daily exercise he required, but the moment he saw the Eyeball on his massive horse, he hid behind a tree. The man would make a convenient cover for his indiscretions with Prudence, but Leo couldn’t forgive him for who he’d become. They’d once been comrades in their boyhood ostracization, but Eyeball moved on. Leo had only been able to turn his once-distasteful academic prowess into a successful cash flow.

As he handed off his hat and walking stick to the footman, he heard his mother talking up in her drawing room. The woman’s voice could carry across whole neighborhoods once out of doors. “Who is Mother speaking to?” Leo asked the footman.

“Mrs. Cabot is here,” the footman said before excusing himself to tidy away Leo’s possessions.

Leo frowned. Prudence wasn’t supposed to be here. Their appointment was for tonight, at her suite. He crept up the stairs, but he forgot to avoid the telltale creak of the fourth step.

“Leo is home. Leo!” His mother called. “You may join us.”

He winced. The last thing he wanted to do was pretend indifference to Prudence in front of his mother, who knew every single small tell he had. He took a grudging breath, the kind of heavy sigh he knew she would hear. This was acting, and hadn’t he played so many roles in his short life? His father would have him be anything from a penniless orphan to a rich boy lost in the woods. Whatever it took to lure in unsuspecting and unscrupulous wealthy travelers. He imagined he was about to have tea with Eyeball. That ought to do it.

He entered the drawing room, his feet heavy with dread.

Prudence was stunning. She wore a peach day dress, the sleeves stopping at her elbows and flaring with short ruffles of cream-colored lace. The collar at her neck—where he’d lavished kisses just yesterday—was high, brushing those escaped tendrils of hair. When she turned to look at him she smiled her American smile, the one he’d resented when first they met.

But he understood it now. Just as his steel facade was his armor against the world, so was her wide smile. It kept people at bay, making them not want to ask questions or dig any deeper. Implied that the person beneath it was one-dimensional and not worth the effort. But he knew Prudence was anything but boring or vapid, despite that Atlantic Ocean–sized smile.

“Mr. Moon,” she said, from her perch in his mother’s damask chair. “It’s so wonderful you could join us.”

His mother fairly beamed at him. Prudence—no, he must call her Mrs. Cabot, even in his mind. Mrs. Cabot was working some kind of wiles on his mother. He sat next to his mother on the matching damask couch.

“Daisy, fetch another cup!” his mother shouted to the maid downstairs. He flinched, her voice ringing in his ears.

“Mother. That is what the bellpull is for.”

“My knee hurts. I refuse to stand.”

“I could get you a bell to ring from here. A pretty silver one. Wouldn’t that be better?”

She grumbled. “You always have a solution, don’t you?” It was a question, but it didn’t sound like a question.

He didn’t want to bicker with his mother in front of Prudence, but he couldn’t resist one last barb. “Only when there is a problem.” He turned to face their guest. There was intricate cream-colored stitching down the front of the bodice that trailed onto her skirts. He swallowed hard, banished the thoughts of his hand following the stitching like a guide in the dark to find her petticoats.

He coughed. “Mrs. Cabot. What brings you here today? I don’t believe we have an appointment.”

“Daisy! A cup! Mr. Moon’s throat is dry!” his mother yelled.

Leo looked up at the ceiling, wishing to be anywhere else but there.

Prudence—no, Mrs. Cabot, damn it all. Mrs. Cabot looked at him with the same polite distance that he had addressed her with. “No, I came only to see your mother. I need advice.”

He narrowed his eyes. “On what?”

Oh, his mother could give advice, but none of it on topics Prudence should need. Well, that wasn’t quite true. His mother had an encyclopedic knowledge of stain-removal techniques.

“How to make a lavish party appear more lavish.”

He shook his head. “And why would she be the person you would go to for this?”

Mrs. Cabot raised her arms, gesturing to the drawing room. “I’ve been a guest in some of the most lavish drawing rooms in London. I’ve seen the rooms of a duchess. But none feel as rich as this one. Why?”

Leo looked around, trying to see it not as his mother’s haven, but as a room unconnected to her. He shook his head. “I haven’t the foggiest.”

His mother preened next to him. She patted his leg. “Exactly.”

“She’d promised to tell me her secrets.” Prudence—Mrs. Cabot smiled conspiratorially and winked.

His stomach twisted. His mother could not tell all her secrets, for her secrets were his as well. Slowly, with control, he looked at his mother, who returned his gaze, confidence in her eyes. They’d been co-conspirators, secret keepers, for so long, it was what had bonded them so permanently together. Mothers and sons were always bonded, true, but not like them. And the best way to keep a secret was to never tell a soul.

*

He was late. Her clock chimed, and she couldn’t help but glance at it. Prudence paced her suite, not wanting to sit and wrinkle her skirts. She wore a silk dress that had easy clasps in the front. The kind of thing made for a tryst. Or a husband. Which is why she had it, though Gregory had not been the kind of husband who would have wanted it. Or needed it.

Dinner was ready on plates at the table, under silver domes. She didn’t want the hotel staff to suspect anything, so she ordered what she normally did for her and Georgie. As a favor, she also told Georgie to go out for dinner and handed her an extra stipend to do so.

Prudence cracked her knuckles. She knew it shouldn’t, but her heart felt strange, and her head felt light. Old habits were soothing, even if they were bad ideas. Once all her knuckles were cracked, she snapped her fingers. Please come, Leo, she begged in her thoughts. She rested her head against one of the pillars that separated the dining area and the lounge area. The cool marble felt calming against her face.

Had she ruined everything by visiting his mother? Or was she too much trouble? What if she was bad at being intimate? Had she been too selfish? She’d let him guide her, and was that not appropriate? She wouldn’t know. This was all new to her. Surely he would give her some grace for that.

Her lip was raw from where she’d chewed at it all day. The only time she’d been composed at all was sitting with Mrs. Moon. The older woman had been very helpful, and had thankfully not taken offense at what Prudence had implied—that she had come from very little money and could keep up appearances through creativity instead of cost.

And she’d had good ideas—draping cloth that pooled in places made a room appear more sumptuous. Rich colors might not be as fashionable, but they didn’t wash out in the evenings when light was low. That candlelight still made everyone appear more elegant than gas lamps. Brass will shine—if polished well enough—and used sparingly. No one will notice the difference.

All helpful tips, even if she wasn’t sure how they might incorporate to the party.

A soft knock at the door. Finally!

She cleared her throat for no reason whatsoever and went to the door. Her heart galloped like a stray dog after the butcher. Composing oneself was not an easy task. She opened the door, and there he stood, a bottle of wine in his hand.

He looked up at her from the brim of his gray hat, a color that matched his eyes. The well-tailored suit accented his slender build and his wide shoulders. The strong jaw set as if his teeth were clenched was the focal point of his gray-on-gray appearance.

“Come in,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced at her, at the room beyond, his expression unchanging. Prudence felt a tingle in her body as he returned his gaze to her, flicking his eyes from her feet to her hair. He stalked past her, and she caught his ink and bergamot scent.

A tremble went through her entire body. It felt like... butterflies! This was butterflies! She’d done it. Or rather, Leo had.

“Good evening, Prudence,” he said, taking off his hat. She took it from him and stowed it in the small closet next to the door.

“Good evening, Leo.” She stared at him, unable to break away from whatever this was, this feeling like a giggle, but in her bones.

“Your gown is beautiful, but you are stunning.” His voice was lower than normal.

Heat radiated through her. Blushing? Here? Now? “Thank you.” She willed the heat to die down. “You look rather dashing yourself.”

He gave one of his rare smiles to her, and she felt like she’d been rewarded.

“Dinner is ready on the table.” She gestured into the other room.

At the table, he lifted the silver dome left in place by the staff to keep it warm. Unfortunately, it also often made things soggier than necessary.

“Fish,” he said.

Prudence lifted her dome and stared at it. Normally, it was perfectly respectable, but after sitting for so long, a grayish cast had come over the scaled filet. “It looks much more appetizing when they bring it fresh.”

She saw Leo wince.

“Oh, no! No, I wasn’t subtly chastising you for tardiness. No, I’m not as clever as all that.” She didn’t want him to feel bad. Yes, she’d been anxious for him to arrive, but she wasn’t angry. She was honestly grateful he arrived at all.

“You deserve an apology for my tardiness, Prudence.” He replaced the dome and looked about for the drink cart. He stowed the bottle of wine on it and searched for the wine key. He looked up at her once he had it in hand. “I’m sorry that I am late. I had misgivings.”

Prudence frowned.

“I was... surprised by your visit to my mother today.”

She started to shake her head. “You and your mother are not connected.”

Leo chuckled and opened the wine. The cork popped dramatically. He stepped back over to the table and poured them each an ample serving of dark red wine. “Tragically, I am connected quite closely with my mother.”

“I meant, in my head. I wasn’t thinking of you when I went to your mother. I was thinking of the fundraising ball.”

Leo nodded, not looking at her. He stared into his wine. “We have to keep this... separate.”

“Separate?”

Now he looked up at her. “You have no intention of marrying again.”

“Goodness, no.” It came out of her mouth before she could think. Marriage for her meant loss of her autonomy. Loss of her wealth. Upon marrying a man, it would become his.

“Nor do I. There is no room in my life for a bride. I mean no offense.”

“Neither do I.” Prudence was baffled. Why was he bringing marriage into this conversation?

Leo nodded, his chin jutting out more than usual. As if this somehow displeased him, even though she agreed with him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand why we are discussing this? Are we not here for more enjoyable things?” Prudence felt heat rush to her cheeks again. She absolutely was the worst at talking about this.

Leo swirled the wine in his glass and took a sip. “Absolutely correct. Why are we talking about this?”

Prudence picked up her glass and sniffed. The boozy smell of it was still wafting away. This encounter didn’t feel right. She turned away from him, unsure. “If you aren’t hungry, perhaps we can talk instead.”

The lounge area was set with two sofas in an ell shape. They were well stuffed and comfortable. She’d napped on them plenty of times—proof of their softness. She settled herself in the sofa, right at the corner that connected the two pieces of furniture. Leo followed her and sat on the adjacent sofa, closest to her.

“What would you like to talk about?” he asked.

She watched him a moment, observing. His shoes were polished to a high shine. His trousers were perfectly tailored. His coat revealed the exact amount of shirt sleeve at the cuff. His waistcoat was tailored, adorned with the gold chain of a pocket watch. Even the burgundy pocket square of his coat was ironed into conformity. As his mother had proven with her acuity of projecting wealth, this was also a facade. This was a barrier. While he’d managed to step around it yesterday in his office, today it was back firmly in place. “I’d like to talk about you.”

His eyebrows raised, wrinkling his forehead. “You wish to die of boredom?”

She sniffed her wine. It smelled full and ripe, and when she sipped, the taste of black cherries and earth exploded in her mouth. This was a very good wine. “I doubt that would be the case.” She held his gaze. “If you told the truth.”

“Why don’t you tell me the truth about you?” he countered.

“I thought you had researched me. You know everything there is to know. If one would like to die of boredom.”

“I know facts. I know dates and events. I don’t know you.” Leo leaned back into the sofa, relaxing for the first time.

“I don’t even know facts about you, Mr. Moon. I’d like to know some.” Prudence smiled at him, but a genuine one. Dare she say, a flirtatious one? Was she successfully flirting? She hoped so.

“Facts. I can give you facts. You’ve met my mother. My father died some years ago. I attended an elite boarding school on scholarship where I honed my skills at taking money from aristocratic classmates. Repeat ad nauseum . Here we are.” He gestured with his hands wide, as if to encompass the world.

But there was something about his face, his tone, that made her think that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Not that he was lying per se , but that something in his very brief accounting of his life wasn’t accurate. But she’d conducted enough deals to know that there was a price of doing business. And the price here was not questioning Leo about this. There was something he didn’t want to talk about.

She’d seen his face that afternoon when Mrs. Moon had said she would reveal her “secrets.” Leo had gone rigid and pale. There was a secret he needed kept. That was fine. After all, they weren’t starting an affair de coeur , this was... a different sort of business. An affair of the body, not the heart.

“I see. Your life story was very brief and to the point,” Prudence said.

“You asked for facts,” Leo reminded her.

“How did you take your classmates’ money?”

“I did their homework for them. They paid me.”

“That’s not really taking their money. That’s earning their money.”

“You don’t know what I charged.” Leo gave a hint of a smile, which Prudence considered success.

“I’ll give you that point,” she said, unwilling to argue further.

“Those are the facts. Tell me something about you now,” he urged.

She sipped at the wine, it was so juicy and full she could down it in a gulp and be happy. “What area would you like to know about?”

“What makes you so pragmatic?” He echoed her gesture of drinking wine. “You might be the most prudent person I’ve ever met, living up to your name.”

He wasn’t the first person who’d told her that. She sighed. “I’m the oldest daughter of seven brothers and sisters, all born very close together. My father had not just the railroad business, but also a farm. He did his best to hire an assistant manager for his railroad needs, because he preferred farming. But at harvest, we all helped. As the oldest, I drove the horses for the initial reaping. It was slow and kind of tedious. Needing to keep the rows straight, the horses on an easy walk. But I was good at it. Even when I got bigger and could help with the other work, my siblings couldn’t manage the horses, so it was always my job.”

“But not for long. Because you married young.”

She nodded. “At seventeen. Which wasn’t really that young.”

“It is for London standards.”

“Well, I was in Minneapolis. Not London. And my father’s business partner needed a bride. He wanted a child to inherit his fortunes, and marrying me would solidify the partnership. Once the Transcontinental Railroad completed, of which both of them had a stake, it would be beneficial to have their interest combined in the form of one child.”

“So you were the sacrificial lamb?” Leo challenged. There was something hard glinting in his eye.

“I didn’t see it that way. Marrying Gregory meant I would move to New York state, which was exciting, since I’d never traveled. And being with him meant I wouldn’t have to care for my siblings, I’d have a legion of maids. Which I did for a short while anyway. Turns out that I dislike sitting around.”

“So it didn’t matter that you had to marry an old troll?”

Prudence reared back. They might not have had a love match, but Gregory was not a troll. “That is not the way it was at all. Gregory was much older, yes, but he was handsome. He was weary of trying to find a wife amongst his social class, and he needed a bride who would be willing and able to have children, which I was. Why would I not marry a rich, handsome man who could sweep me away from constant hard work? It sounds like a French fairy tale, doesn’t it? Of course I accepted. I was flattered. I was honored to be his bride.”

“He was the one who should have been flattered and honored.” Leo’s voice was flat. Was he angry about this?

“I think he was, in his way. And he taught me everything I know about business. There is no better teacher than sitting at the feet of a master.”

Leo looked away, clearly trying to hide his disgust.

“It wasn’t like that,” she insisted. “Gregory was a good man.”

“Perhaps, but you sacrificed your girlhood to him. You went from being a servant in your own home to being an old man’s bride. Where was the time for you? When did you get to be a child? A girl? A young woman?”

“Now,” Prudence said, looking him in the eye. “Now is my time. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here, alone, in my suite.”

Leo froze, hearing her admonishment. Good. She needed to impress upon him that her life had been not just acceptable, but appropriate, even if it hadn’t been conventional or fun.

She continued, softer now. “It’s the reason I have no intention of marrying again. Gregory had health issues, and I became his nursemaid. But it meant I had full control of the companies, and conducted business in his name. It’s why I know Morse code. Gregory had a telegraph installed in the house upstate, so he could continue his business while in a place of respite. His associates didn’t know if he was the one behind the messages or if I was. And making deals, changing our investments, especially during the turbulent times of the war, it kept me sane. I’d been a nursemaid to my siblings, and then to my husband.”

“And you needed freedom from that constant caretaking.”

She caught his eye. “Exactly. Which I have a suspicion you do for your mother.”

Leo looked away. “We aren’t talking about me.”

“We could be.” Prudence leveled her gaze at him. Challenging him. Asking him.

Leo let out a sigh that didn’t sound as frustrated as she expected. More resigned than anything.

“My mother and I have been through some troubles together. I would never abandon her to a dowager house or even to a house where she wouldn’t be in control. She’s earned her place, and I will do all I can to keep her there. Hence, why I have no intentions of marrying.”

Prudence inclined her head and raised her glass, acknowledging his reasons, and making clear that she had no matrimonial designs on him.

“My father was not a... good man. He was not good to me, nor to her. When he died, we left, set up here in London. I promised to take care of her, so that she would never have to endure a life like that ever again.”

“It’s amazing how you tell a story with absolutely no particulars,” Prudence teased.

When Leo’s gaze flicked up at her, his eyes were nothing but steel. “There are things I will not share with anyone. Anyone, Prudence. Not you. Not anyone.”

It felt a bit like a slap. She’d shared so much of her past. Why would he not share his? Other than what was clearly a horrible situation. Leo intimated some kind of horridness, but that was tragically not uncommon. There must have been something more to it. But she willed her mind to stop picking apart the puzzle that was Leo Moon. It wasn’t her place. It wasn’t what she wanted from him anyway. There was no point. So she put her curiosity aside.

“Fine, if you won’t talk about your mother, how about your schoolmates? Tell me something specific. A recounting of something not sordid, so that I cannot pity your upbringing as you have pitied mine.”

His expression softened. “Fine.” He was quiet, then looked around the room, as if he might find something hidden up in a corner.

“Having trouble thinking of something?”

“Frankly, yes. None of my stories that are happy cast me in a terribly respectable light. Most of them entail swindling my betters. Of course, my motivation was retribution for beatings they’d given me years before.”

“Ah. So you hold a grudge, do you?”

“Tragically, yes. It might be what I do best, actually.” He leaned forward, bracing himself on his knees. “I know it isn’t my place, and despite your protest, I will always hold a grudge against your husband, even though he is dead and cannot defend himself. You were too young to know what you needed, and he clearly didn’t let you learn how to be you. He only continued what you had already known: how to care for others. How to be of service. And I cannot forgive him that.”

She hadn’t thought of it in that way before. That she had existed in service to others. It had been her obligation, her joy, to take care of her family and then her husband. It had never occurred to her to protest or see inequity there. There had simply been a need, and she filled it. Yes, it had been at the expense of herself, but now she’d gotten the chance to do what she wanted. And look at what she was doing! She had a lover and a plan to climb the Matterhorn! How could she complain? “He got me to where I am today. So I will always be grateful to him.”

Leo looked up. “ You got you to where you are today. The American war bankrupted most everyone. Yet, you came through smelling like a rose. That was you. You did that.”

“With his name and his money,” she amended.

“His name only mattered because men are twats.”

Her laughter rang out like a burst bubble. “I’ve never heard you speak like that.”

He shrugged, another layer of armor shedding. “I’m not wrong.”

She shook her head. “No, you’re not wrong at all.”

He put down his glass and rose, finding a new seat on her couch beside her. “I want you to know that I admire you, and not just desire you.”

“That rhymes, so you know it’s true.”

Leo chuckled and played with one of the tendrils of hair she’d so carefully curled earlier that evening. “I hope you feel the same about me.”

“I do.” Her mind went fuzzy. His nearness triggered some kind of drug in her body, and she felt the sensation flood her entire body. She was almost drowsy with desire.

He smiled at her, a real one, not a polite grimace. “Good.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Then turned her hand over, palm up, and kissed the sensitive spot on the inside of her wrist.

The fire that was already ignited between her legs surged. She swallowed hard. “I’m glad we talked,” she managed.

“May I kiss you now?” he asked.

She nodded, and he began slowly, as if playing with her. But she wasn’t in the mood for playing. The anticipation for this had been too stressful, the need now too big. He moved to her neck, as he’d done the day before. “I have a French letter,” she whispered.

“Excellent,” he said between kisses. “I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

“I invited you to my private suite at night, after a discussion of becoming lovers. After what happened yesterday at your office, how could you not presume this?”

“You talk too much,” he said, taking her mouth with his.

She didn’t mind at all.

*