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

Chapter Five

“H ere are the swatches,” Prudence said, presenting the cloth squares to Ophelia. The other women leaned over to peer at them.

“I like the dark blue paired with the light, almost silvery blue. It reminds me of the depths of the sea,” Eleanor said.

“It isn’t about the sea,” Justine argued, pointing at the green-blue cloth instead. “I like that color.”

“But is that really a color of ice?” Ophelia asked.

“Does it matter?” Justine countered.

“It should if you dismiss Eleanor’s suggestions of the sea,” Prudence said, wanting to stick up for Eleanor.

They all sagged back into the silk cushioned chairs of Ophelia’s mother’s drawing room. They’d run again this morning, bathed, dressed, and had refreshments. Now it was time to finally get some business done.

“How did you even come up with this, Prudence?” Justine asked. “It’s brilliant, but I just wouldn’t have thought of it.”

Prudence wondered if she should reveal her source as Mrs. Moon. It would strengthen her tie to Leo, which she wasn’t sure she could afford. But well, why not? Theoretically, her visits with Mrs. Moon would excuse her excessive time in his company.

“It was Mrs. Moon’s idea, actually.”

The normally placid and even-tempered Ophelia made a dreadful face. “Mr. Moon’s mother?”

“Yes, I quite like her,” Prudence said. “And she certainly knows her way around a penny.”

“But she’s wretched,” Justine said. “The only things I have ever heard her say have been mortifying insults.”

Prudence shrugged. “We get along. Maybe it’s because we’re both widows.”

Eleanor’s posture noticeably softened. As a newlywed, the idea of losing her husband was unthinkable. But Prudence’s life with Gregory bore no resemblance to the bliss Eleanor had with Tristan. Prudence put her hand over Eleanor’s and squeezed it, an acknowledgment of her friend’s sympathy.

“If we are interested, I also got quotes from a shop where we could have snowflakes embroidered on the cloth banners in silver thread.”

Justine gasped. “That would be gorgeous!”

“Especially if we use candlelight,” Ophelia said, her eyes distant. No doubt calculating costs and returns on her investments. “How wide are these banners you are proposing?”

“Four feet wide,” Prudence said, double-checking her notes. Her notes, scrawled in Leo’s hand.

She had imperiously picked up both him and his mother and taken them both on her trip to Bond Street. His mother had plenty of opinions of which shops were worthy of their business, but often stayed in the carriage, complaining of pain in her knees.

It had been a thrilling outing, not looking at Leo as she remembered his kisses, his mouth suckling her pearl, his palms covering each breast. She had to keep cold and aloof, as did he.

She thought she’d done a fair job, as Mrs. Moon neither commented nor shot her warning looks. After all, their very first conversation was all about how Mrs. Moon wouldn’t allow Prudence anywhere near her son.

As an aspiring American hussy, Prudence had vowed to stay away. But, well, things happened. She had been trying very hard to be furious with him, as a matter of fact. It was merely that the chemistry between them had been too obvious, too heady for her to resist. No doubt that would soon fade, and when it did, their time would be over. Which was what they both wanted and agreed upon.

“Prudence?” Ophelia asked.

“Pru?” Justine prodded.

She shook her head and smiled at her friends. “Sorry. Head in the clouds.” Even Eleanor looked at her strangely. “The run tired me out.”

Eleanor kept examining her, a situation she didn’t care for. Eleanor could be quite observant when she wanted to be. As the group’s slowest athlete, Eleanor should be the one complaining, not Prudence.

Ophelia produced a sketchbook and a charcoal pencil. She flipped open to a page they’d examined last time. She held it up so they could all get a good look. “This was our last thought. But now...”

Ophelia turned the page and sketched her parents’ ballroom again, this time with the cloth banners.

“Would we alternate the colors?” asked Eleanor.

“And how many colors are we choosing?” asked Prudence.

Justine frowned at the swatches, and then arranged them in order, from light to dark. “What if we did this?” She pointed at the one so light blue it was almost white. “When you first enter the ballroom, it is like the top of the ice, and then the deeper you go, the darker it gets.”

“Like falling into a crevasse?” Eleanor asked.

Ophelia pulled a face.

“Exactly!” Justine said.

“Sounds like courting bad luck,” Prudence said, glancing over at Ophelia.

“Nonsense,” Justine said, “it’s just a party. It’ll be fun.”

“Can we ring for more tea?” Prudence asked.

Ophelia nodded and rose to ring the bellpull. Justine took the sketchbook and added shading to emphasize her point. Prudence could see it. “What about if we made some kind of mountain here, at the head of the room? It would be the focal point, drawing guests further into the ballroom, and would also serve as a place for Ophelia to speak to the crowd.”

Justine’s eyes went wide. “I love it.”

“Perhaps there could be a staircase at the back, but we could invite guests to climb it from a difficult angle,” Eleanor suggested. “Have ropes to tie in?”

“Not unlike the Matterhorn,” Ophelia said, nodding, when she returned from ordering more tea for Prudence.

“I like it,” Justine said, grinning in an impish way that showed off her dimples. It wasn’t surprising that every man in London was half in love with her.

“We are beginning to have a plan,” Prudence said. “I very much appreciate that.”

The tea tray arrived, and Prudence thankfully accepted a cup from Eleanor, who had taken over the job of hostess while Ophelia continued to sketch under the scrutiny of Justine who, as always, had plenty of suggestions.

Eleanor scooted her chair closer to Prudence. “Are you well?” she whispered.

Prudence frowned, but gratefully inhaled the steam from the teacup. “Of course. Just tired.”

Eleanor looked her over. “You’ve lost weight.”

“We’ve been training again,” Prudence pointed out. “You have also dropped some.”

Eleanor hid a conspiratorial grin. “I don’t think it’s from training.”

“Oh?” Prudence said, glad for her friend’s happiness.

“I think it’s from long nights with my husband,” Eleanor confessed. And then she gave Prudence a bald stare that suggested that was what she thought Prudence was also up to.

Which was true.

But she couldn’t very well admit it. “Oh, come now. That’s not—”

“It is precisely what you said your goal was.” Eleanor poured herself a cup, not letting Prudence wiggle out of it. She was as bad as Georgie, though a bit more talkative.

“I know what I said, but—”

“Are you being safe?” Eleanor asked.

“Safe?” Prudence asked. “What does that mean?”

“You trust the man? He will not hurt you, take advantage of you?” Eleanor asked.

Prudence’s heart expanded at the concern of her friend. She reached over and squeezed her arm. “Yes, I trust him. He’s a good man.”

“Do you both have the same expectation of this affair?” Eleanor asked, her eyes on her teacup.

“Yes. Neither of us is interested in a marriage. Or anything more.”

Eleanor nodded her approval. “And what will you do if a babe appears?”

What a strange way to phrase it. As if there were infants appearing in people’s drawing rooms at a moment’s notice. “I am taking precautions.”

Eleanor nodded.

“I am being careful. I wouldn’t jeopardize the Ladies’ Alpine Society. You have to know that.”

It was Eleanor’s turn to frown. “I’m not concerned for us. I’m concerned for you.”

Prudence cocked her head to the side. “Why? I’m a very capable person, and a widow besides.”

“It isn’t about your reputation or your money, Prudence. It’s about your heart. You’re pragmatic yes, tough as boot nails, yes, but you care for people, Prudence. That’s what you do. I don’t think you know how to not care for someone, even strangers on the street. So guard your heart, and guard it well.”

Prudence looked down at her teacup, Eleanor’s words sinking in hard.

“Besides, can you imagine what Justine would do if she thought you might be heartbroken?” Eleanor asked.

They both looked up to see Justine poking aggressively at the sketchbook paper as Ophelia made adjustments. Prudence and Eleanor giggled, which made Justine look up.

“I beg your pardon,” Justine demanded.

Eleanor shook her head and Prudence kept laughing, her heart fuller and fuller. “I admire you Justine, more than you know.”

At that, the girl smiled back, her dimples deep and becoming. She might not be in Minnesota, or even on the American continent, but she had family. These women would take her in no matter what she did, and there was comfort in that. She would do the same for them in a heartbeat.

*

The weeks with Prudence had turned into months, and still he could not break his obsession with her. All morning he’d been in a lather trying to forget Prudence for at least one minute. Her taste, her smell, her skin had been occupying his mind on a loop—an obsession he couldn’t shake. Finally, he’d taken himself in hand, almost rubbed himself raw, coming quickly into a rag. A poor substitute for what his mind had suggested.

“An ‘Eyeball’ here to see you, sir,” the footman announced without blinking.

Leo gritted his teeth. He was just now able to focus. And now here was this idiot coming to waste his time.

Leo threw his pen down. “Fine. Show him in.” Leo stood, straightening his waistcoat. He was behind in his work thanks to his errant brain.

Not long after, the bulky form of Eyeball occupied the space in front of him.

“Leo,” he said, tipping his head in gracious acknowledgment.

“Eyeball. To what do I owe this honor?” Leo gestured to the seat across from his desk, and both men sat.

“I heard the strangest thing at the club last night. You’ll never guess.”

Leo waited, as patient as he could feign.

“Guess.”

“You just told me that I would never, so I won’t, thank you.” Leo gave a pinched grimace, the best he could do for a polite smile.

“You have absolutely lost all your interest in fun, Leo. It’s positively depressing.”

Leo raised his eyebrows, hoping to urge the man to continue.

“I was told that I had come in secret to your house for those investing lessons I’d asked you for.”

Drat his mother for being such a gossip.

“And here I was, assuming you’d brushed me off completely. But no, there’s at least a rumor connecting our names over the very topic I had hoped we might engage in.” Eyeball bit his lip, showing off the top row of straight white teeth. “Of course, I would want to inquire as to why this untruth was abound, but rather than that, I thought I owed it to you to come here and tell you the gossip of the day.”

“Is that all?” Leo asked. He was angry now, but it was his own fault, his own stupidity. His mother could keep secrets if she needed to—but he had not been explicit about this being a secret. So she’d told. Or perhaps one of their servants had overheard and mentioned it somewhere. It didn’t really matter who the culprit was. The deed was done.

Eyeball gave him a wink, flashing that one green eye. “Of course not. I will gladly keep my mouth shut and not deny these charges on one condition.”

“Do you feel that you are in a position to blackmail me?” Leo frowned. Truthfully, he could be in that position. Leo didn’t want to contemplate a second intricate lie he would have to construct to cover up this one. And the quintessential axiom about lying is to keep it close to the truth.

“Blackmail?” Eyeball scoffed. “No. Both of us getting what we want. I get investment advice, and you get whatever it was that you needed by telling people we’d met up in secret.”

Leo stared at him, not moving. He was thinking.

“Why did we meet up in secret?” Eyeball asked, scooting to the edge of his seat. When Leo made no move to answer, Eyeball waved him off. “Not important. I have time today and well, let’s be honest, every day, to meet. Whenever you’d like to start those lessons.”

Leo blinked. He did not want Eyeball to take up any of his precious time. He’d been a pain in the arse in school, and he was a pain in the arse now. He was just bigger. Reluctantly, he dug out his datebook. “Tomorrow,” he said.

Eyeball slapped his hands on the arms of the chair. “Splendid!”

“Ten a.m. sharp.” Leo looked up as the man stood.

“So early.” Eyeball winced. “Could we not do a more civilized time? Say, two in the afternoon?”

Leo glanced at his datebook. Prudence would be coming by to see his mother. He’d come up with her own code for his diary. A collection of dots along the page, that could be excused as mere pen marks. “Fine. Two. Tomorrow. But I will not tolerate lateness.”

Eyeball gave him a grin that no doubt would win his mother over. Leo gritted his teeth but stood out of politeness and respect for rank.

*

“You must be Mrs. Cabot, the American widow.” A man’s booming voice came from behind her.

Prudence jumped. She gripped the warm stone banister on the front steps of the Moon residence for balance. Her lace-gloved hand flew to her heaving chest.

“My apologies for startling you.” A man came into focus. A massive man, whose broad shoulders nearly blocked out the sun.

Prudence swallowed and composed herself. He was handsome, holding his hand outstretched. She didn’t know if he was offering it as a gentleman or as a handshake. Unsure, she shook it. She was an American businesswoman, after all. What did he expect her to do? “Nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m at the disadvantage. And you are?”

“Terribly rude and impertinent, I’m afraid,” he said, with a wide winning smile. “But I saw you going in to visit, and having just come from there, I was wondering who you were here to see.”

Prudence blinked. “That is terribly rude and impertinent.”

He laughed, which was in itself disarming. If the weather had not been warm and pleasant, causing everyone in London to be kinder and more genial, she might have turned on her heel and walked away from him. Was that not what she was supposed to do? Truthfully, she wasn’t sure anymore.

But Prudence had experience with men like this in New York, while she did business on her husband’s behalf. They were slick like wet otter pelts. He waited for her charming response, and when it did not come, he had to continue the conversation on his own.

“I’m an old school chum of Leo’s. I was wondering if you were his... amor .”

“I beg your pardon. You haven’t told me who you are and why my business is your business.” Prudence’s hackles rose. She knew what he was asking. And she didn’t like it one bit.

“Lord Grabe, at your service.” He bowed fully, a show of respect in gesture he had not given in conversation. But it allowed her to see that he had a full head of thick, dark hair, barely tamed curls, and that his hat was made of the finest (most likely American if not Canadian) beaver skin. She wondered if the luxurious hat was not too hot for him, or if it was a way to flaunt his wealth that could not be foregone just because of the weather.

“Mrs. Prudence Cabot,” she said, not bothering to curtsy or bow. She was an American, and he was rude. He would get no genuflection from her.

His smile was wide, and his cheek dimpled in response. Normally she would sigh over such a man, but he was... nothing but awful to her.

“Not that it’s your business, but I’m here to see Mrs. Moon. Widows have much to discuss.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He whisked his hat back on his head. “If you are not here for Leo, then may I make up my absolutely insolent manner toward you, and ask you to go to the opera on Tuesday evening?”

Prudence took a step back, only to find it was a step up. She didn’t even have the wherewithal to stammer.

“Do you have another engagement?” he pressed.

“No,” she said, truthfully.

“If you are involved with someone else and would rather decline, I must confess that I understand.” He took a step forward.

Was he baiting her? What did he know? Prudence swallowed. “I am not.”

“I see no other obstacle,” he said with another genial grin.

She narrowed her eyes. “I do not know you, sir.”

“My lord,” he corrected. “In England, you see—”

“I know very well where I am,” she snapped. Instead of her rudeness putting him off, it seemed to enliven him.

“Then I shall meet you at the front entrance at 7:30. If I don’t see you, I have a box that an attendant can direct you toward. But I do enjoy catching the full entertainment, so I don’t like to be late.”

She wanted to say something withering, but she hadn’t said no to him, and there was something deep in her Minnesotan soul that couldn’t abide being mean. Or late. “I will meet you at the front entrance.”

“Excellent.” He turned to leave her there, but something still bothered her.

“Lord Grabe?” she asked.

“Hm?” He turned back to face her.

“How did you know it was me?” Prudence pulled herself up to a startlingly stiff posture.

“The stand-offish American widow who has resisted wooing for a Season and a half? My dear, you are famous in my circles.” He gave another disarming grin—one that sunk under the surface of her tough exterior this time.

*

The week was gone in an instant. Leo had tutored Eyeball, who was not as dim as Leo remembered. For that much, he was grateful. His nights were full of Prudence. It was rare now, to spend a night apart, but Prudence still had parties and events to attend as a member of Society’s adjunct amusement. And she was obligated to go, Leo knew, to help spread the word of the Ladies’ Alpine Society’s fundraising ball at the end of the Season.

Ticket sales were mediocre. But that could change in a moment. Only one of them needed to become that Season’s object of desire, and they would be sold out in a matter of hours. And then they would... go to Switzerland. Which was such a strange thing to think. Prudence’s body was one that had worked. It was evident in the way she moved, not to mention the sleek rounding of her bare calves and thighs and biceps. He loved running his hands along her tautness, her power that she put away just for him.

And through some miracle, Leo was glad when neither of them suggested coming together Tuesday night. Both he and his mother loved the opera. Opening nights especially. There was something about the energy of the performers—practiced, yes, but somehow raw and new. They would either give the best performances, or the worst. And it was part of the thrill.

Of course, the epic music was the highlight of the opera, but Leo also enjoyed the entire spectacle of the audience. And, though no one believed him, he enjoyed taking his mother. She was remarkably insightful about people they encountered, the audience scanning the crowd with their opera glasses. Even some of the performers. She was excellent at reading body language and facial expressions. It was her insights that allowed him to practice a reserve that broached no entry.

Her small, gold-rimmed spectacles hung on a spider-silk-thin gold chain that tinkled against whatever heavy, jewel-studded necklace adorned her that evening. For his mother never went anywhere without some marker of their wealth and status. She’d lived too long without them, and she wouldn’t suffer the disrespect again.

Which begged the question of whether her observations of others were cruel. They were blunt and heavy-handed, yes. But these perceptions weren’t meant for anyone other than him. Now that she was losing her hearing, she seemed to believe Leo was as well, which had inspired some humiliating moments during the last few performances here.

They settled into their box. Their usual wine was punctual. His mother plucked her glass from the waiter’s outstretched tray without so much as a glance. Leo slipped a few coins for gratuity onto the tray as he gathered his glass. Champagne. Always champagne to start.

“Oh, there she is,” his mother clucked. Putting down her glass, she scooped up her opera glasses and glanced across the way at another box.

“Where is who?” Leo asked, scanning the crowd down at the bottom. He liked looking at the clothing everyone wore. The feathers on the women, the pops of color from the men. He could never get over the extravagant colors the wealthy wore. He loved them, even if he despised wearing them himself.

“That girl. Prudence.” His mother gave a low chuckle.

She rarely chuckled. And the hair on the back of Leo’s neck stood on edge. Chuckling was reserved for a bold individual. Someone daring.

“Oh?” Leo managed, trying so very hard to sound uninterested.

“Across the way there,” his mother said, handing him her opera glasses. “In Lord Grabe’s box.”

He snatched up the opera glasses, causing his mother to topple into his shoulder. “So sorry, Mother,” he managed. Lord Grabe. Eyeball.

The man was a walking venereal disease. Finally the people came into focus. Broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed, staring at Prudence as if she were the most captivating woman alive. Which she was, of course, but a rube like Eyeball would never be smart enough to pick up on it. No, he was courting her for one reason only: her money. Despite what he’d said about his estate being perfectly solvent, men like him always wanted more. And with the estate and title in his hand, he would be looking to make costly improvements to his land. Which meant he would need ready capital. Which meant Prudence.

His mother pried the opera glasses from him. “Shall we go over there?” His mother asked, her voice tinged with an inflection he couldn’t quite parse. His mind was wholly focused on Prudence with Eyeball.

“Of course,” Leo said, springing to his feet. He offered his mother his arm, and they toddled over to the other box, nodding their heads to acquaintances they passed. Though he and his mother were not of this world, they swam in it with the wealthy and titled. He winced, remembering that Eyeball had never said a cross word to him, even though Leo was teased constantly for being there on scholarship. Which Eyeball was as well. But Leo had the added taunt that he was not of blue blood. That he was like a two-headed sheep—an oddity. Smart for a servant’s son.

But as he drew the curtains aside to enter the box, and he saw how close Eyeball’s hand drifted to Prudence’s perfectly muscled derriere, all his feelings of guilt and remorse evaporated. The man was not fit company for any woman. Let alone one as na?ve and trusting as Prudence.

“Lord Grabe,” his mother announced for him. “Too much drink will rob you of your impeccable balance.” As if Grabe’s hand was straying so far because he was about to topple over, and not to manhandle Prudence.

Grabe turned, his face not registering shame or surprise. “Mrs. Moon, what a delight.”

Prudence turned, and upon seeing them, smiled. Inexplicably. And it wasn’t one of those tight polite ones, but true delight. The kind that made his stiff exterior soften just a bit. Which was not what was required to save a damsel in distress. Nor was she drowning in guilt. Which he had expected her to, somehow. It stung.

They were not exclusive, nor were they lovers in the true sense of the word. They had a... business deal. One that was flesh-based, but business all the same. It was an agreement that didn’t involve feelings.

And now Leo was having them. Feelings. Which was preposterous, and he needed to get a hold of himself.

“Mrs. Moon! Mr. Moon. What an utterly delicious surprise!” Prudence took two steps forward to grasp his mother’s hands. Pearlescent beads swayed upon her bodice as she walked. It was distracting to say the least. He felt as if one of those charlatan hypnotists were practicing their arts upon him.

“We saw you across the way, and I insisted to Leo that we come say hello.”

“How kind,” Prudence said, an expression that was far too malleable, as if she’d just seen a baby animal she wanted to hold.

Leo scowled. No one in their right mind should be so emotional. Let alone him.

“Not for me, ol’ chum?” Grabe said, catching Leo’s eye.

“That’s right! You two are friendly,” Prudence said, as if the sheer joy of acquaintances thrilled her to her toes.

Leo would not say friendly. He would not use that word at all at the moment, since he was currently wondering if Eyeball would survive a fall off the balcony.

“Went to school together,” Grabe answered. “Leo was the smartest; I was another one.”

“I’m sure you had talents as well,” Prudence said, smiling up into Grabe’s stupid multi-colored eyes.

“Undoubtedly,” Leo said. But Leo wouldn’t be so crass as to innumerate the talents Eyeball had bragged about in their later school years. The sort of vulgar tell-all that no one outside of a boys’ hall should speak of. Despite Eyeball’s vociferous rants on the subject.

Instead of the warning glance that Leo expected from Grabe, the viscount gave an amused chuckle. “Indeed. When we entered school, I was no bigger than a tadpole. Tiny, scrawny, terrified.”

“I don’t believe you were ever terrified,” Leo countered. At least he’d had a title to hide behind. Leo had only his wits and experience. No title. No height or breadth.

“You would be appropriately horrified to hear of the hazings we went through, Pru.”

Pru? Grabe’s usage of a nickname clanged in his head like a hateful bell. She didn’t like nicknames. Very few of her friends used them with her, and the ones that did had special dispensation.

“Animals,” Leo’s mother interjected. “There isn’t anything wilder than a group of boys without supervision.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Prudence said. “Most of my siblings were sisters. Enough that my brothers always had feminine company.”

“Even in the wilds of Minnesota?” Grabe asked.

Her eyes twinkled as she raked that gaze across all of them. “Unsupervised girls, of course, are not much better behaved.”

“Do tell,” growled Grabe.

Leo wanted to punch him in the mouth. But he kept his iron facade in place.

“Mud pies, unexpected haircuts, death-defying falls from haylofts, learning to spit from the fieldhands during harvest.”

His mother laughed. “That sounds like an excellent childhood.”

Prudence gave a shy glance over. “It wasn’t much, but I enjoyed it.”

“Wasn’t much?” Grabe asked. “Look at where you stand, madame. In an opera box in the center of the world, wearing a dress dripping with pearls.”

There was a flinch before Prudence’s smile erupted. Leo remembered that reaction from when he told her that she had amassed her own fortune, as she tried to hand the credit to her dead husband. She didn’t like the credit she was due. Didn’t want the attention that such capabilities wrought. “I am a fortunate woman, Lord Grabe. I shan’t forget it.”

“Grabe. Mrs. Cabot. Very nice to see you both.” Leo bowed his head to them. He couldn’t warn her of Eyeball’s intention to use her for her money. He offered his arm to his mother.

“Mrs. Cabot. I expect to see you in my drawing room tomorrow. I should be very put out if you forego our visit.” His mother tutted and hooked her arm lightly with the handle of her cane.

Leo did his best to keep his brow smooth. Yes, he would be very interested to see her tomorrow as well. To see if he could smell Eyeball on her. If she had that relaxed, satisfied look about her that she did after their lovemaking. He could feel acid from his stomach traveling up his windpipe.

“Of course, Mrs. Moon. I won’t forget.” Prudence gave a fond glance to his mother and gently unhooked the cane, letting her take it back.

They excused themselves and as they toddled back to their own opera box, his mother leaned in. “She isn’t a stupid woman, Leo. Have some faith in her.”

“It’s Grabe, Mother. The man has seduced more women than hoop skirts.”

“Be that as it may, Mrs. Cabot isn’t as wild as she pretends to be. I’d wager she hasn’t taken many men other than her husband to bed. She’ll be skittish to bare herself again.”

“Mother!” He hissed. Honestly, the woman couldn’t keep her own counsel sometimes. But at least she didn’t know about his nights absconding from their house to meet Prudence at her hotel.

His mother pinched the inside of his elbow. Fortunately, he couldn’t feel it through his coat, despite her intentions. “I agree that Grabe is no boon to her or her devilish cause. But now is not the time to rescue her. Whatever damage she does to her reputation and that of her climbing girls is done, but she will be forgiven for the fact that she is an American.”

“So you’ll set her straight on appropriate men tomorrow afternoon?”

“Heavens, no.” They arrived at their own box, and he helped his mother into her seat. “I’ll merely tell her that if she takes up with Lord Grabe, she’ll be expecting the pox soon after.”