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

Chapter Six

P rudence woke up alone. The bed was luxurious, but she hated to say it, she longed for the simple life again. The kind she had as a child, or even with Gregory, when they let go of most of their serving staff. To be pampered and waited upon was fun for a while, but truthfully, she just wanted to be alone. Truly alone.

No lady’s maid, no paid companion, no footmen, no maids, not even Leo. To sit in the morning as the sun rose, listening to the birds welcoming the day. Even as a child, she’d had that. Her family was not made for early mornings, but Prudence was, as was her father. While both she and her father were early to bed, early to rise sorts, he was off to his office near the rail station, and Prudence was free to sit, unencumbered. She still had this habit, regardless of months of late-night suppers, dances, and operas.

Here, with the luxurious bed, she should be able to sleep in. To not lay and listen for the maid to enter and light a fire. But there were all sorts of things she thought she wanted, but when faced with the actual choice, she didn’t. Like Lord Grabe.

He’d been kind enough and too charming by half. He’d told her amusing stories about people in the high society whose names she knew. He whispered in her ear during the performance so that the flesh on the back of her neck prickled. He’d let her see how his eyes trailed down to her bosom. His intentions were obvious, which was helpful, as that had been her intention as well. But when it came to the end of the night, she was too tired. Her stomach hadn’t fluttered as it had when anticipating Leo’s touch. He invited her to his place, which she declined, and then he tried to invite himself into hers. Which she declined as she stifled a yawn. That seemed to have made her refusal understood.

He was attractive yes, with broad shoulders and enchanting multi-hued eyes. But he was rather boring. And obvious. And it seemed like the idea of bedding him was farcical at best. As if she might laugh as he took off his cravat. Or worse. Laugh when he slipped out of his trousers. Oh dear, that would be unforgiveable.

She was not meant for this kind of wild life. Or the attentions of handsome, titled men. She needed someone simpler than a man whose skill in bedsport came so highly touted. No less than a half a dozen ladies had recommended him after she’d visited a London Gardening Society for Widows meeting that Mrs. Moon had recommended.

It was less gardening and more gossip than Prudence had anticipated.

But he wasn’t Leo. He wasn’t teasing then taciturn, aloof and then intimate. Lord Grabe was never there with her. It was as if he were playing a role with her, as the seducer. And she didn’t feel like playing a role. She liked being herself. And she liked herself when she was with Leo. Where she asked and received what she wanted. Where they could debate and scheme and laugh and tease.

Even if Leo still had that hidden room inside himself where he kept his secrets. He thought he was so clever about it, as if those secrets weren’t a glaring sign to her every time he spoke. But it didn’t matter. They had fun together.

She was truly surprised when Leo had arrived in Lord Grabe’s box with his mother. But she assumed they were there because Mrs. Moon wanted to be friendly. Perhaps even throw her respected and ferocious reputation out there to protect Prudence from any gossip. But Leo’s placid expression belied a steely undercurrent of outrage. But that was precisely why she was there with a peacock of a man like Lord Grabe. She was trying to live her dream. Her outrageous free widowhood. One where she could sample men like sherries. And didn’t he remember that was their deal? Except she didn’t think she was the sort. Not with the failed flirtations in Spain, and not with the very handsome, charming Lord Grabe.

Besides, regardless of what she did in her bed, being seen with Lord Grabe would throw all suspicion off of any dalliance with Leo. It kept them safe and discreet, as both of them preferred.

The door clicked open, and soft footsteps padded to the fire. Prudence listened as the hotel chambermaid set the fire, relieved that it was finally time to start her day. She had, after all, a party to plan. A party to end all parties. Which she wouldn’t know if it hit her in the face. Why ask an American to throw a party that rivaled extravaganzas of bygone eras? But that was fine—the other women were caught up with logistics and letters, finding money in other pots. The least she could do was throw a party.

Indeed, she’d mentioned their plans to Lord Grabe, detailing the lengths they had to go to, including the faux mountain and the cloth banners symbolizing deep ice. He had generously offered her the use of his library to help her gain ideas. If he wasn’t too sore at her for not going to bed with him, she’d take him up on it.

*

Leo’s hand shook with rage. He rarely raged at his mother, but this was an exception. “You told her what?”

His mother noticed his rage, he knew that. But she dismissed it. “I told her that she might expect the pox, but why shouldn’t she let a handsome man flatter her? The girl deserves some admiration, after all she has been through.” Mrs. Moon waved her hand as if dismissing him.

He wanted to slap it away, but he checked himself. He would never, ever raise a hand to his mother. Or any other woman. He’d watched as his father had done so, and there would never be a chance he would follow in those footsteps. His molars ground even as he willed his jaw to unclench.

“And what, pray tell, has she been through that Lord Grabe could assuage?”

His mother looked at him with absolute pity. “Leo, darling. If you don’t know, I certainly won’t be the one to explain it to you. You’re far too old to hear it from me.”

Leo took a steadying breath and cracked his neck from side to side. He hadn’t spoken to Prudence for days. When she’d come to call on his mother, he’d made a point to be out. The loathing he felt for her at the moment wasn’t gentlemanly, and he hated himself for falling into a schoolboy crush. “I fail to see how bedsport would cure anything for Mrs. Cabot.”

“It isn’t only the bedsport. It’s the wooing, the seduction. A girl like her has never been admired the way she ought to be. It’s high time she has the chance to have a handsome lad like Lord Grabe—”

“He’s an arse.”

His mother gave him an arch look. She leaned back in her chair, the closest she would ever come to folding her arms at him. “If you are jealous of the time Grabe spends with her, perhaps you ought to do something about it.”

The words conjured up Grabe wrapping his stupidly big arms around the slender Prudence Cabot in a heated embrace. Leo turned on his heel, thundering down the stairs, snatching his hat and coat from the closet, not waiting for any member of his staff to anticipate his need.

“Where are you going?” his mother called after him.

He shoved on his hat, folding the great coat over his arm, not wanting to spend the time to put it on. “Out,” he yelled over his shoulder. He couldn’t think. If he found Prudence in dishabille with that shit, he’d call Eyeball out to pistols at dawn.

*

“I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this,” Prudence said, giving her most earnest smile to Lord Grabe. “I’m afraid my frontier culture is not one of excess.”

A low chuckle came from the man’s broad chest. He really was impressively broad. She admired him a moment, but it felt like admiring a statue. He was very pretty. Elegant, even. She desperately wanted to be attracted to him. How perfect he was! That chuckle should have tingled in her legs, but yet... it didn’t.

“If there is anyone who can help you find excess, it is me. But alas, I think you are looking more for the kind of excess reserved for the very wealthy in the past centuries.”

Grabe guided her through his townhouse. It was a lovely home, modest by some standards, but every detail precise and clean. His hand at her waist, he ushered her into the library. It wasn’t a large room, smaller than Mrs. Moon’s drawing room, but it had fine wooden bookcases with neatly lined tomes.

“My father was a fan of royal histories. He’d lost a great deal of them during his lifetime, having to sell his books to pay off land debts.”

Prudence murmured her condolences. She’d learned a great deal about the kind of money troubles that came to English landlords in the past centuries, when land became secondary to production. It was a learning opportunity for her own portfolio. She knew that while the bulk of her money was in railroads, and would be for a long while, diversifying one’s wealth was the key to keeping it intact.

“I’ve made it my mission to buy back my father’s works. Much easier now, since mass printings. His books are nowhere near as expensive as they were fifty years ago.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Prudence said, hoping that his expression might make her feel a twinge of attraction.

“Thank you. Please, have a seat here. Tea shall arrive shortly, and in the meantime, let me bring you the books that I think will help.” Grabe gallantly ushered her to a comfortable-looking blue-velvet sofa.

Prudence sat and took out her notebook and pencil from her valise. She was very good at research. Party planning was not all that different from researching stocks and company futures. There were still returns on investment, risk assessment, and costs of doing business to consider. Unfortunately, some of those she didn’t know how to calculate. The returns would come from attendance, which would be calculated from tickets purchased. But also from public support, which had no numerical value.

She hoped her friends were having better luck at attracting ticketholders. They needed the ball to be a triumph in order to raise enough money to get to Switzerland, and to stay there long enough to have good weather in climbing the Matterhorn.

In fact, her calves still ached from the stair-climbing exercises Ophelia had put them through that morning. Too bad Leo wasn’t around to massage out any tension. Her cheeks suddenly heated as her mind drifted to last week’s nocturnal activities. Thank goodness Lord Grabe had his back turned. She wouldn’t want him thinking he’d caused her blush.

Prudence cleared her throat. “Have you been to a party like the kind I’m describing?”

Grabe turned and grinned at her, his athletic form once again reminding her of a statue. “Do you think I would admit it if I had?”

Prudence frowned. “Yes?”

Grabe turned fully and leaned against the bookcase. “I think you and I might not have the same ideas of a lavish party.”

“I’ve been given strict instructions. ‘Lavish party like they had in the eighteenth century.’” Prudence read from her notes. “The theme is ice, there will be blue cloth banners embroidered with silver thread to catch the candlelight, and a faux mountain to climb at the far end of the dance floor.”

Lord Grabe leaned against his bookcase. “You know what always brings out the wealthier patrons?”

“Do tell,” Prudence said, her pencil poised.

“Masks.”

“Masks?”

“Yes, a masked ball. A party where naughty behavior can go unaccused. Where mistaken identities are used for titillating purpose.”

Prudence frowned but wrote down his suggestion. And while he chose a stack of books for her, she thought about it. A masquerade wouldn’t be a terrible idea, especially if it attracted sales. There could even be some unmasking moments that could be auctioned off, again, for raising more money. The more she thought about Grabe’s idea, the more she liked it. She would have to tell Ophelia.

A footman entered the room, pausing the conversation. “A caller, my lord.”

“Excuse me,” Grabe said, striding across the room to her. “I shall return shortly. Feel free to explore the library at your leisure.” He kissed her hand and left.

Prudence pulled her shoulders up, squinting her eyes closed. Why could she not be a normal woman and find him irresistible? She sighed and dropped her shoulders. Because she didn’t want to be a woman of many. She didn’t want to be one more in a line waiting for a vacancy in his bed. Because she didn’t give a fig for aristocracy and money. One she didn’t understand, and the other she had plenty of herself.

Then why not want the man he was underneath the trappings? Because he was... dull. Predictable. Practiced. Because at the end of dinners with other investors, she and Gregory would pull men like him apart, discussing and debating them until their suitabilities as investing partners were obvious and clear.

She stood and wandered to where Grabe had stood. She read the faded spines, finding titles to be utterly uninspiring. English Agriculture 1749-1800 . Economic Ramifications of the Corn Laws in Scotland and Ireland.

Was Grabe lying to her? Did he really have anything that would make a decent resource? How utterly disappointing if he were. She stepped to the next bookcase. Perhaps there was a cultural difference in how books were titled?

She heard shouting in the corridor. Apparently the visitor was not a pleasant one. Hopefully it wasn’t some disgruntled husband. Or debt collector. Either way, she wanted nothing to do with that.

Turning her attention back onto the bookcases, there was a ladder to help her peer to the top shelf. She climbed up, scanning the titles. Leaning all the way over to read the very last title, she kicked her foot out to keep her balance. No tougher than walking across the beams of a barn loft.

The door burst open.

Prudence clutched the ladder, startled. Her foot slipped off the rung. Her feet paddled the air as she slid down the ladder in inches, finally gaining her purchase on the next rung.

“So you are here!” a man shouted.

Dear Lord, why was anyone screaming at her? She peeked over her shoulder to find a fiery-eyed Leo Moon. The initial terror she felt at being yelled at abated. She took a calming breath and climbed down the ladder.

“Hello, Mr. Moon.” She gave her largest, most hospitable smile. As if she were the hostess here. Which she most definitely was not. She almost called him Leo. Which, in front of Grabe, would have been a mistake. As his shouting at her was a mistake. Surely, he could see this wasn’t helping?

“I told you she was here,” Grabe said, rounding the door frame.

“Who doesn’t like a good library?” Prudence asked.

“You don’t understand what this means,” Leo spat at her. “What he’s up to.”

Prudence raised her eyebrows, opening her eyes as wide as any painting of an innocent. She was irritated enough that she wanted to poke at him. “That I might borrow a book from Lord Grabe?”

“Young women do not visit unmarried men! Not without talk, not without speculation, and especially with a sod like Eyeball.”

“Eyeball?” Prudence asked.

Grabe burst out laughing. “They used to call me that at school. On account of my different colored eyes.”

Prudence smiled. “They are very charming. Your eyeballs.”

“Don’t compliment him, Prudence.” Leo gave a scathing glance over his shoulder at his rival.

“Whyever not? It’s nice to compliment someone. I like compliments. Do you not like compliments, Lord Grabe?”

“I do indeed,” he rumbled.

“Mr. Moon, are you the particular sort of person that cannot abide a compliment?”

He ignored her. “If you do this, you will ruin your reputation, and the reputation of the entire Ladies’ Alpine Society.”

Her spine stiffened. Was that a threat? There were all sorts of missteps she would forgive, all kinds of rudeness she would ignore, but threatening her friends, with whom she’d been through so much, she could not abide. “You dare threaten me?”

“I’m not threatening, merely showing you consequences that you might not realize.”

Did he not see what he was doing by making a scene in front of a member of the ton ? A man who could easily walk to the nearest men’s club and ruin not just her reputation, but her friends’, and their chance to accomplish a feat no other woman had ever done?

“Lord Grabe, would you please—” The tongue-lashing she was about to dish out should not be observed. This was intolerable. Her hands trembled as fury snaked through her.

Grabe was already leaving, closing the door. “Take as long as you need. You won’t be disturbed.”

Leo strode across the carpet, his long legs eating up the space. “You don’t know what you are about.”

“I have a duty to fulfill, and I am doing so!” Prudence stood her ground. She would not be bullied by men who could use their height to intimidate.

“At the expense of the reputation? You think to help the Society, but yet you sully it? By sullying yourself?”

She stomped her foot. “Sully myself! How dare you! I went to the opera, as did you!”

“And all of London saw you with that seducer. You think his reputation is secret?” Leo stood inches from her now. His outrage obvious not just by the volume of his voice, but by the color in his high, perfect cheekbones.

“I know his reputation. In fact, he came highly recommended.” Prudence watched with satisfaction as Leo’s face went from patronizing outrage to shocked and scandalized. Prudence didn’t want to mention their chance encounter on his doorstep. And that if it was anyone’s fault they ended up at the opera together, it was his. It gave Leo too much credit. And right now, she’d much rather shock him.

“You knew?” he spat.

“Of course. Your mother expressly—”

“—My mother?”

“Your mother,” she confirmed, putting her hands on her hips like a petulant child. “Warned me the day after what to expect from a man like him. Not to mention the other widows from her gardening society. After all, widows know what other widows want.”

He pushed her up against the bookcase, his arms caging her in. “And what do widows want?” he growled.

She blinked, still determined to not be cowed. Men thought they could use physical force to bend her to their will? That she was some innocent, unknowing of the world? Unknowing of men? She tipped her head up to meet his gaze. “I cannot speak for any other widow. But this one wants pleasure.”

As she said the words, she could see that he was trembling. That his mouth was so very close to hers. His eyes were expressive, and desire was clear in his gaze. “And you are not satisfied with what you have found?”

It was that growl that sent chills across her flesh. His low tone that echoed in her belly and between her legs. She dared not lie to him here. “I am. More than I ever expected.”

His breath hitched. His eyes slid to her lips. Shifting his weight, his hand came to her face, hovering over her as if he would cup her face, then perhaps stroke her lips. She swallowed hard, anticipating his quicksilver touch.

There was absolute fire between them. Prudence felt drunk at his nearness, ready to fall into whatever spell he would weave. She straightened, closing the distance of their lips. She breathed him in, pulling him towards her, wanting.

“Then expect me tonight. I promise you’ll forget any other man,” he growled. Then he was gone.

The abruptness of his departure left her panting. Cold air covered her as the library flung open and slammed shut behind him, leaving Prudence stunned and alone.

Her hand fluttered to her chest. Grabe appeared in the doorway.

“Are you all right?”

Her whole body trembled with unquenched desire, need pulsing strong and hot. “Fine.”

“Did he threaten you?” Grabe entered the room, seeming genuine.

“No, of course not.” Prudence collected herself. “I’m sorry, I should really go. Mr. Moon reiterated the rules of society of which I was ignorant.”

Grabe grimaced. “Ah, yes. My reputation.”

Prudence smiled at him, genuinely sorry. “Yes. Well earned, so I’ve heard.”

Grabe barked out a laugh. “Who told you that?”

“The Ladies’ Garden Society. You came very well recommended.” Prudence might as well be honest. Compliments should always be freely given. “I’d heard of you from them prior to bumping into you in front of the Moon residence.”

“Ah. Hence your reticence.” He had the decency to look sheepish. “A lad had to learn somewhere.”

“Rest assured, you are considered an excellent student. And now, an excellent teacher.” Prudence shoved her notebook and pencil back in her valise.

“But not for you,” he guessed.

She nodded. “Not for me.”

“Because of Leo?” Grabe guessed.

Prudence gave him a smile that she hoped he would interpret any number of ways except the one he’d already guessed. “Mr. Moon reminded me that I cannot afford a misstep when a larger goal is in mind.”

“The Matterhorn, is that correct?” Grabe was all distant politeness now.

“It is. We’ve already conquered Ben Nevis without too much issue.”

Grabe chuckled. “The issue being the marriage between Miss Piper and Mr. Bridewell?”

Prudence grinned. “Exactly. But at least a marriage didn’t ruin our reputation. It only solidified it as being respectable. Which is, I think, how I’m going to make this event a success.”

“I do feel badly for causing you strife.” Grabe shoved his hands in his pockets. “May I write to you? I’ll look through the library and if I can find anything, I’ll let you know. Big parties, over-the-top celebrations, royal functions, that sort of thing.”

Gratitude spilled out of her. “That would be lovely. I cannot thank you enough for that gesture of generosity.”

“Just reserve a ticket for me. I am happy to pay full price. Especially if it is a masquerade.” He gave her a sleepy, impish grin that would have turned any other woman liquid.

“Of course. And I will bring your suggestion to Miss Bridewell. A masquerade might be just the thing to entice London.”

“Oh, well, if I get credit for the masquerade idea, then I request a dance as well. A naughty one.”

Prudence laughed. “You enjoy your reputation, don’t you?”

“I have to give the Ladies’ Gardening Society something to discuss, do I not?” Grabe opened his arms. “Let me walk you out.”

*

There were, of course, the top three idiotic things Leo had done in his life. One had been thinking he could trust his father in a con. They’d been fast-talking a brutish-looking fellow in a freshly-tailored coat—typically a good mark. They’d been doing the sick child pickpocket routine, but the pockets on that coat were nowhere big enough for anyone’s hand. Leo suspected that was the point—a lure to find pickpockets and then beat them to a pulp. Instead, his father kept pressing the point, and Leo wanted to call off the job. But his father was already drunk and wasn’t picking up Leo’s cues.

He’d escaped with the brute’s cigar burn on his collar for his troubles, and his father had received only growls about controlling his boy. It had smarted, being blamed for his father’s misdeeds, and it made Leo resolve to never follow his father’s ploys again. Fortunately, his father had left shortly after, so at least the cigar burn earned Leo’s mother and him some peace.

The second most idiotic thing Leo had done was taking money for doing other boys’ homework. It had given him money when he’d had none, of course. But in the end, it gave the rich boys better marks. This led to them believing they were smarter than they actually were, and finding prestigious positions after school. Even Eyeball had taken his hard-earned money and given it to Leo for his brains. Now, Eyeball was wealthier, and a viscount. He had power, position, and good looks. Enough to woo a woman like Prudence into his sphere of influence.

The third most idiotic thing Leo had ever done was walking into Eyeball’s house and seeing her. But it was Eyeball who’d goaded him into it. Implying their relationship was already an intimate one. When he’d said she was “relaxing” in his library, Leo saw red. It was all he could do to keep his fists at his sides. But like an idiot, he’d flown to the room, needing to see the proof of it himself. But her hair was in perfect repair, her clothes unrumpled. Her notebook was out, for God’s sake. And he’d been a perfect fool.

She’d melted in his arms. Desire seeping from her pores, and he’d been tempted to take her right there. But even he wasn’t that stupid.

Leo looked down at his paper, full of scribbles of ridiculous verse. Odes to the curve of her neck, the grace of her capable hand, her confident stride as she faced down Eyeball, himself, even his mother. That perfect color of her honey-blonde hair as it shone in the light of the sun. How it looked twined in his fingers in the pale dawn light.

It was damned embarrassing. He was smitten like a schoolboy, frigging himself furiously all week, hoping that his fantasies of her would rid him of her image. It only made it worse. He woke up this morning hard as mahogany.

And then running to Eyeball’s townhome like a jealous husband, making a scene. If he thought logically—which he hadn’t since she’d sat down across from him and handily solved his filing code—he could see how her going out to such a public place as the opera was a good idea. That it threw off any suspicion of their involvement. That it heightened the appeal of the ball at the end of the Season. God, he’d been so stupid and jealous and he hated that he’d done it. That his temper had taken over in a way it hadn’t since he was barely out of leading strings.

When he was a boy, there was a maid at school who had captured his esteem, and he’d felt the same way about her that he did about Prudence. But he was a grown man now, with a business, money, and people who depended on him. He couldn’t be such a complete moppet about this whole thing. Men could admire women from afar and not lose their wits. Look at all the chivalric poetry of the thirteenth century, for example. It was utterly possible.

And if he weren’t completely daft, he’d be able to do so as well. Keep his mind and his cock separate. For that was what had driven him to this edge. Definitely not his heart—that organ was cold and shriveled and dead.

Then he heard the front door open, and Prudence’s voice. Leo stood, straightening his jacket and checking his collar. Was it starched enough? It felt strange. Perhaps a quick check in the mirror—the creaking of the front door stopped him in his tracks. Was she coming for him or his mother?

Cold sweat broke out under his arms. He needed water. And a new collar. This one was far too tight. No, this was simply undignified. He shook his head. It felt as if he were still in a dream, his mind clouded with the idea of her. The only reasonable thing to do was to go about his day as usual. If he felt like changing his attire, he would do so. But only to make himself more comfortable, and not because of her visit.

He threw open the door of his study. She was on the stairs, startled at the sudden movement. Her bare fingers gripped the railing, knuckles white. His mind immediately went to picturing bed linens fisted in hand. He gritted his teeth. That wouldn’t do. She stared down at him, her expression grim. Ah, so she was as disturbed about his appearance at Eyeball’s house as he was.

But he couldn’t tear his gaze from her. They stood dead-locked. There was no muscle in his body that could move. He was lucky that his heart managed to beat. It was his mother that broke their stand-off.

“Prudence Cabot, is that you?” his mother called from her drawing room.

Her attention pulled away, and he felt the absence as clearly as a hand on his arm. She finished the climb up the stairs. “Coming, Mrs. Moon,” she called.

He exhaled. When Jeffrey came back from stowing her bonnet and gloves, Leo requested a luncheon to be brought to his office. Still, Leo went to his dressing room to splash water on his face. Control was all he needed. Control. He braced himself against the chest of drawers. He’d done difficult things before. This was just one more. Control.

And then he’d go to her tonight and shed every inhibition. Show her pleasure, show her how little she needed anyone but him.

*

“So, my dear.” Mrs. Moon’s face was lit up like a child’s.

Prudence shook off the intensity of Leo’s eyes on her. That moment kept flashing in her mind—his lips a fraction of an inch from hers. Her back pressed against the bookshelf. His arms caging her in. The scent of him, clean soap and ink, filling her senses, the almost feral look in his eyes calling to something so basic inside of her. She shook her head to clear her thoughts of him. She smiled, pulling herself back into the cheerful Minnesotan she truly was. “Yes.”

“I’m very glad you have called, but I must ask why. I’ve seen you more often than I’ve seen my maid this week.”

Prudence laughed at the older woman’s directness. “And here I thought the English prided themselves on etiquette and circumspection.”

Mrs. Moon snorted. “The only good thing about becoming old is being forgiven for ignoring the rules we once enforced. I can barely walk, my arthritis burns through my hands like liquid fire, and I can barely see past four o’clock in the evening. Give me the grace to not waste time.”

Prudence smiled, this time because she genuinely liked Mrs. Moon. “Were you younger or I older, I think we would have been pals.”

Mrs. Moon looked baffled. “Why can we not be ‘pals’ now?”

“Absolutely correct, Mrs. Moon. I am so sorry.” Prudence glanced over her shoulder when she heard someone enter the room, but it was only the footman, bringing a tea tray. Her heart had skipped, hoping that it had been Mr. Moon. “We could—”

“I didn’t order tea!” Mrs. Moon barked at the footman.

The footman froze mid-step. “My apologies, ma’am. Er—”

“Jeffrey! Down here,” a masculine voice called.

Funny how even his voice made her breath leave her body.

“He can wait,” Mrs. Moon muttered, fluttering her hand at the idea of her son in his study. Waiting for her. “Now. Tell me why you’ve come.”

Because she couldn’t stop thinking about Leo. Because his rage and jealousy had been so foreign and intoxicating that she wanted to be near him as much as she could, even though he’d promised to come to her that evening.

Because she was afraid that he would dive back into whatever sulking he’d been doing every night in the past week where he’d ignored her and kept his distance.

“I wanted to check with you about an etiquette question before I brought a suggestion to Miss Bridewell for the party.”

There was a brief flash of disappointment on the woman’s face, but it quickly ebbed into an almost professorial interest. She gestured for Prudence to continue with her question.

“Are masquerades thrown by young ladies considered... respectable?” Prudence floundered in her question. She didn’t really know what to ask. Her mind was no longer rational. All function had been taken over by the hot growing need between her legs. Oh God, she was a mess. Night could not come fast enough for her.

“First of all,” Mrs. Moon said, looking at Prudence like she were a complete imbecile. Which, she did in fact feel like. “Young ladies do not throw any party of any kind. It is not Miss Bridewell’s party.”

Prudence’s attention caught. “It isn’t?” But Ophelia was making every decision, down to the budget. Well, with Prudence’s and Leo’s help.

“No. It is her mother and father who are throwing this party. Lord and Lady Rascomb are well-known to have a penchant for the unusual. And Lady Rascomb’s...” Mrs. Moon’s hand flipped as she searched for a word to describe the viscountess’s permanent leg injury, “...limp is excuse enough to hold a masquerade. The poor dear can no longer dance, so a masked ball would be perfectly excusable.”

Now her logical thoughts appeared, hiding as they’d seemed to be earlier. “But having a pronounced limp would make her easily identifiable even with a mask. How would that be a reason to hold a masquerade?”

“Because,” Mrs. Moon said, leaning forward, “it isn’t about other people being unable to guess her identity, it is about her fun guessing the identities of other people.”

“Ah,” Prudence said, finally comprehending. “Then I might bring this to them without fear of insulting them?”

“I think you are safe there, girl.” Mrs. Moon leaned back in her chair. “Now, where did Jeffrey go with the tea tray? Must I do everything myself?”