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

Chapter Seven

L eo didn’t remember walking to Prudence’s hotel. Didn’t remember the cadence the soles of his shoes beat upon the road. But suddenly, he was in the passageway, knocking on her door.

She flung the door open, her hair unbound, but still in her day dress. She was in the middle of preparations for his arrival. They stared at each other. Blood thrummed in his ears, in his fingers, and then, only in his cock.

Already drunk on her, he passed the threshold and took her into his arms, kissing her as desperately as a drowning man gulped for air. He closed the door with his foot and guided her slowly backwards until she hit the wall of the foyer, missing the doorway he’d aimed for. It didn’t matter. She hooked a leg around his arse, and he was so very glad that she was tall, and so very glad she was flexible.

The wrought iron hooks, intended to hold hats and woolen coats, were above her, and he guided her hands up to grasp them, meaning that he wanted her there, wanted to bare her body to his ministrations. Instead, she grasped them, hitching herself higher, until both of her legs were clasped around his waist.

He could feel the slit of her drawers open against his trouser front. As he couldn’t remember how he’d arrived at her hotel, he didn’t remember fumbling with buttons, but in moments he was seating his cock at her wetness, nipping at her lips as she panted into his mouth. It was ecstasy, it was necessary, it was life itself. And he plunged in, and she moaned his name, and nothing existed outside of them.

The two of them were one and the same, two halves incomplete without the other, and he was no longer sure if he was fucking her or if she was fucking him, and they were together in this rhythm, building and creating, straining and wanting. Her pace quickened, and he pulled back to look her in the eye, wanting to see her fall apart. Needing her to see that it was him that did it.

Her gray eyes met his and the thread that bound them knotted, pulling them closer. And she came, staring into him, and he came, shaking and pushing and turned inside out.

There had been no other time in his life where his mind had been so occupied. Where the very depths of his inner self had been explored. Not like this. And not by anyone but her.

He pulled out gently, and her legs relaxed, and she slid down, her feet on the floor. Their foreheads pressed together, both of them out of breath and unsure. He touched her cheek with his thumb, and she looked up at him, this time, aware and in control.

“We didn’t use protection,” she whispered.

The shock of his lack of control hit in waves of disbelief. How could he be so careless? “I’m sorry. I am so sorry—”

“It isn’t only your fault. I’m just as much to blame. I couldn’t think—”

Leo shook his head. “—Neither could I. Normally—”

Prudence nodded. “Normally.”

He mirrored her gesture and nodded, unable to say any more. Not needing to say any more.

“Kentucky bourbon?”

“Please,” he said, noting that his hands shook. Why was he trembling as if he were cold? He was warm. Too warm. And his body was both overtaxed and wanting. He felt like a walking paradox.

Prudence led him into the drawing room, and he adjusted his clothes along the way, sticky and messy as he was. He was looking forward to the warm indoor plumbing here in this suite. She poured them both two fingers of brown liquor and handed him the heavy cut-glass tumbler.

He couldn’t think of a toast, but she said nothing as she clinked the bottom of her glass to his and took a long swallow. She shook her head as the burn no doubt made its way down her throat. He was so foregone that he couldn’t even drink his own, instead watching her, almost jealous of the whiskey that made its way inside her. He was a full-blown lunatic. Find him Bedlam, because he needed to be locked up. He indulged in his own drink while she collapsed into the sofa.

“I suppose we should talk about it,” she said.

Leo fortified himself with the remainder of his drink. He didn’t want to talk about the possibility of a child, or what it would entail. Of course, he was an honorable man, and though neither of them wanted to marry, he could see coming to some kind of arrangement—

“You can’t be following me around London every time you see me with another man.” Prudence’s voice was tired, as if she didn’t really want to say the words she’d just uttered.

Leo’s mind stopped, skidding like a horse at a cliff. “I beg your pardon?” Had he really been entertaining scenarios of marriage, and she was worried about his behavior in front of Eyeball?

“Yes. If we are going to keep our affair discreet, you can’t be charging after me like a jealous husband.”

Leo’s mouth opened and closed. He had not been prepared for this discussion. Nor did he think it entirely necessary. His reaction had been... instinctive. “I find,” he said, wishing they were never having this conversation, “it difficult to keep control when you are concerned.”

Her brows went up, and by the languid smile that came over her face, he could tell she was both entertained and very flattered by this information. Information that made him very uncomfortable. At his very core, he was in control. He had to be that way, it was molded by his character, by his circumstance, and now by his career. To be caught up in—whatever this feeling was—stretched the very limits of himself. And he didn’t like it.

“I would very much like to avail myself of your bathing suite.”

Prudence knocked back the remainder of her drink. “May I join you?”

The flavor of honey was left in his mouth from the Kentucky bourbon, and the sound of her voice echoed that dark sweetness. He nodded, still feeling bewitched and unsettled, and very, very willing. He wanted to see her nude, he wanted to glide his hands over the softness of her skin, watch her damp curls dry while his fingers coaxed them.

For the first time in his life, he thought, I would die for you , and he didn’t mean his mother.

*

“You’re late,” Ophelia said, her voice cold and precise, but without blame or ire.

“My apologies,” Prudence said, out of breath from walking as quickly as she could. “I overslept.”

“You missed a training run,” Ophelia said. “You can make it up this evening.”

Prudence winced. Of course Ophelia would insist on her not missing her exercise.

“I wouldn’t say she’s missing anything, Ophelia,” Justine said.

Eleanor groaned.

“Oh please, it was funny,” Justine insisted.

They sat down for tea in the drawing room. Prudence couldn’t keep herself from eating everything in sight. She was famished. It was the first time Leo had stayed past dawn. They were both exhausted from the multiple rounds of lovemaking. There was water tracking all over her suite from the bathing room, and wet towels were still moldering in her bed. But she didn’t care. Something was bursting inside her like sunshine through a bank of storm clouds. She was glowing, and she didn’t care. Of course she was glowing. Leo was... Leo was... hers. And she liked it.

“I have something of a delicate nature to bring up,” Ophelia said, after everyone’s plates and cups were filled.

Eleanor glanced over at Prudence, a questioning look on her face. Prudence smiled back, but Eleanor didn’t smile. She looked concerned. Oh. Oh dear. Eleanor knew. She might not know who , but she knew the look of a woman who’d stayed up all night having too much fun. That kind of fun.

But Prudence was a widow. She could very well do as she wished. And they had been discreet. Mostly. That was what she needed to talk to Leo about, and he hadn’t so much as apologized, but explained. And that was enough. She would do her best not to rub any of her time with other men in his face. But she had to if they were going to keep things quiet. Didn’t she?

Or maybe not? After all, Lord Grabe had called her aloof, or standoffish. Something like that. She could continue with that, and keep Leo in her bed, and all would be well. Next March they would be off to Switzerland, and that would be that.

“What could be so delicate?” Justine asked. “We already openly discuss our need for monthly rags.”

“Justine,” Eleanor complained.

“We do,” she insisted.

“I know, but must you be so vulgar as to say it?” Eleanor asked.

“I beg your pardon, but rags? What’s wrong with rags? Every person in this room requires them,” Justine challenged.

“Quite.” Ophelia cut both Justine and Eleanor off in the middle of their argument. “Which is adjacent to what we need to discuss.”

All of them quieted. Not even Prudence nibbled at her scone.

“We are entering the last two months that you may get... pregnant—” Ophelia struggled over the word. “Before our attempt.”

There was nothing but silence in the room. None of them even breathed.

“It is now July, and if you conceive—” again Ophelia’s voice strangled at the word, “—if you conceive this month, you will be in labor at the end of March. When we will be leaving for Switzerland. We may, depending on weather reports, leave earlier, if the journey seems arduous. We cannot miss the window for our ascent, and we must have adequate time to prepare.”

Prudence suddenly felt as if the scone was stuck in the back of her throat. She had dismissed their lack of use of a French letter. And the two subsequent times that night. Suddenly, the ramifications of her nights with Leo loomed large. Her involvement with him was a threat to them all.

She looked to Eleanor, who had gone pale. Ophelia and Justine looked to her, as the only married woman of the group. But then Ophelia shifted her gaze to Prudence, apologetic but thorough. “While this is of most concern to Eleanor, I must address this concern to you as well, Prudence. I know not, nor do I want to know of your dealings with the... other sex... but I would be remiss if I did not address this concern with you as well.”

“Naturally,” Prudence said, trying to sound more confident than she was.

“I know that some women claim that a situation—” Ophelia stumbled. “A pregnancy, I should clarify, helps them with physical activities. However, no woman can be certain what it will do to their bodies. Because of this, I would respectfully ask that neither of you become with child in the next months.”

The silence was broken by Justine biting into a crispy gingersnap.

“Of course,” Prudence said quickly, burying her face in the now lukewarm cup of tea.

Next to her, Eleanor nodded effusively. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this expedition, you all must know that.”

Ophelia looked relieved. Whether from their agreement or for not having to say the word “pregnant” anymore, Prudence didn’t know.

The group chattered on about the impending masked ball. Who they would dress as, the possibilities of auctioning items, any honored guests they might convince to come. Prudence was taken from her reverie as Ophelia pointedly asked, “Are you not going to write this down?”

She put down her very full plate and teacup to dig out her pen and notepad. She was suddenly not hungry.

*

“I’ll be gone a fortnight. I hope you can survive.” His mother sat in her bedroom as Daisy packed her trunks.

“I think I’ll manage,” Leo said. This was the first time his mother had gone to a country retreat in years. “Where will you be again?”

“With my dear friend, the Countess Gelfirdon. We’ve known each other for a very long time.”

“A very, very long time?” Leo asked. Was this one of her networks of friends from when his mother had been a housekeeper, or was that later?

“From when we first came to London, you fool. What would a countess be doing in Thornridge?” his mother snapped.

Leo didn’t like her tone. “Exactly. Are you not going to Thornridge now?”

“We are going to the country! Not that part,” his mother said through gritted teeth.

He’d got her going now. She would be prickly to everyone for at least the rest of the day. He silently apologized to Daisy. He kissed his mother on the top of her head. “I’m glad you will be going to be with your friends.”

“You’re insufferable. I’m glad to be away. Dour one moment, patronizing the next!” His mother screeched at him as he walked away, whistling. “And now you dare to whistle in my presence?!”

He gently laughed and closed her door behind him. He suddenly had much to do.

Two days later, he presented his plans to Prudence. He’d made his excuses the previous night, knowing that he would be unable to keep his surprise to himself, and not wanting to spoil it without incomplete details.

They were attempting a night without immediately falling into bed. Leo had taken the opportunity for his cook to pack a cold dinner for two and bring it to Prudence’s hotel, not wanting to order a hot meal for two and alert any suspicions belowstairs.

But he had to be honest. The bellman recognized him now and subtly looked away after Leo had slipped him a pound or two over the course of the last few months. They both pretended not to be there as Leo left early in the morning. So would ordering a dinner for two really be endangering Prudence’s reputation that much?

Perhaps they were being ridiculous. Even so. Prudence picked at the cold mince pie and mostly drank the champagne he’d brought. Should he ask her what was wrong, or should he barrel on with his plan as he’d intended?

Paralyzed with this internal debate, Prudence solved it for him.

“I need to tell you something.” Prudence couldn’t look him in the eye.

His breath stopped. Fear that he’d never known took over his mind and body.

“If I become.” She cleared her throat. “If I become with child, I cannot climb the Matterhorn.”

Leo nodded. That was a given. Why was she only now thinking of this? He’d been worried about it for weeks.

“The other night we—” Here she finally looked at him, finally giving him what he’d hoped to see. She wasn’t calling their affair off, she was merely instating boundaries that he would have agreed to instantly. “We were careless, not using the French letter. We need to be vigilant.”

“Of course.”

Relief flooded her expression. “Really?”

“I always was a proponent of it. You know that. If neither of us want to marry, then it goes without saying that neither of us want children.”

She frowned. “I think I do. Someday? Maybe. I’m not sure.”

His stomach twisted. Perhaps the pie was not as well cooked as he’d thought. “Well, it does nothing to talk about it now, does it?”

She shook her head, eyes cast down again. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

He brightened his tone, not willing to be morose when he had such a surprise for her. “I’ve arranged something for us. A reprieve from London.”

Her champagne glass stopped in midair. “A reprieve?”

“A cottage in the North, where it’s a bit cooler. A place for just the two of us. No servants, no staff, just us. What do you think?”

She bit her lip, which was not the reaction he’d anticipated. He’d envisioned her being overjoyed, coming and sitting in his lap while he told her the details. “But I have my training regime to follow.”

“And you can. Just, in a different location.”

“I’m not sure Ophelia—”

“Ophelia isn’t coming,” Leo said firmly. “Let’s do something we can rarely afford to do here in London. Wake up together.”

Finally Prudence’s ever-present smile emerged. He reached forward and pulled a pin from her coiffure, and a tendril escaped.

“I want to see your hair in the morning sun.”

“Better now than later, I suppose.” Prudence sipped her champagne, the mood of the evening turning.

“Precisely,” he said, grateful that the evening turned the way he’d hoped. He pulled her into his lap, poured her more champagne, kissing her throat as she drank it down. One of his hands held her firmly in place, while the other hunted the rest of her hair pins. Honeyed curls fell around his wrist, the most exquisite binding he’d ever seen.

“I fear you make me think poorly,” she said.

“I fear you make me cease thinking at all,” he said, his hand now attempting to undo the small pearl buttons on the back of her day dress. His other hand roved up to her breast as his mouth found her earlobe. She melted in his arms, and any troubles he might have had about their conversation were left at the dining table.

*

The rest of the Society was not happy about Prudence’s week-long London defection, but the more Leo talked about the seven days of country living, the more Prudence wanted to go. She could have her time of no maids, no servants, no noise. She could have Leo all night, waking up in the morning intertwined, instead of rushing him out the door in a purpled dawn panic.

“But the ball—” Eleanor had protested.

“Isn’t for another four weeks,” Prudence said. All the orders were in. Seamstresses were embroidering the banners, orders were in for extra ice to be delivered. Even the wines had already been accounted for.

Ophelia had been the only one to support her sojourn. “Prudence will return to us refreshed and ready. She has been hard at work, and doubtless needs a break from London.”

Justine folded her arms and stared Prudence down. Had the girl any more experience with men, Prudence believed Justine could have seen right through her. As it was, Prudence excused herself and went back to her hotel to pack.

“And what am I to do?” Georgie asked her from the sofa.

Prudence’s trunk was packed. It was a relief to not have to pack her gowns and silk shoes and retrieve jewels from the Strawbridge Hotel’s safe. The trunk was barely half full of light dresses, comfortable shoes, and a parasol. She didn’t so much freckle as other ladies did, but rather turned the color of a Maine lobster.

“You can do whatever you like,” Prudence said, her own cheeks coloring. She couldn’t bear telling Georgie what she was really up to, for this was somehow worse than asking for privacy—hiding away with a lover for a week-long orgasmic love cuddle—so she’d told her she was taking a watercolor course in the country. Prudence. Watercolors. It was absurd.

“Perhaps I’d like to sign up for some watercolors,” Georgie suggested, her face not betraying anything.

“You can’t,” Prudence said quickly. “The class is already full. Very exclusive.”

Georgie stood up slowly—because she had only one speed, and that was that of a tortoise—and said, “Mrs. Cabot, I would not hear an unkind word said against you. And you are my employer. Please do not lie to me.”

Prudence trembled. She was horrific at lying. She couldn’t abide deceit, and it had been ingrained in her that deceit was the worst sin—far worse than fornication, for example—so that even her lies of omission to her friends made her ache. To lie straight to Georgie, who had laced her into gowns, helped her with her hair, made travel arrangements, and stood by her side on boats, on trains, and even in unfriendly ballrooms, it was like lying to her own mother.

Whom she also had not written to about Leo. Or her sisters. Or her brothers. Because what would she say? I’m overcome? For a man with whom I cannot consider a future?

Prudence felt the shame coursing through her. “You are right, Georgie. I apologize.”

Georgie opened her mouth, as if she were about to say something, but then closed it. Prudence had plenty of time to watch her change her mind.

“Georgie, please, speak your mind. You’ve more than earned the right. I cannot be mad at you when I’m the one who is in the wrong.”

Georgie nodded and said, “Don’t be ashamed of who you love.”

The sentiment hit Prudence as hard as a physical blow. Georgie was already leaving Prudence’s suite, no doubt to read or do something more productive than listen to Prudence flit about spreading untruths. Prudence took a steady breath, her stomach churning. “Thank you, Georgie.”

There was something to be said for it, to hold one’s head high and refuse to be shamed. She wasn’t ashamed of being involved with Leo. She just didn’t want any shame to come to her friends as a result of her deeds.

So should she do this? Or should she not? Prudence squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly wishing for Gregory’s even-tempered mind. He was so good in a crisis. Especially an ethical one. He would ask, Is this for the greater good?

Prudence being naked with Leo? No. There was no greater good. It was inherently selfish on both of their parts. Neither of them had any intention of marrying, uniting their families, creating something greater than themselves. This was about the pursuit of pleasure.

Gregory would ask, Is it hurting anyone?

No, of course not. Leo enjoyed it, she enjoyed it, there was no harm befalling anyone. Well, unless they were found out. Both Leo and Prudence would weather the storm just fine. But would the Ladies’ Alpine Society? Would they weather it?

Prudence looked at her open trunk, with the pretty yellow and white dresses. The pink parasol with white ruffles. She could practically feel the sun on her shoulders—something she hadn’t felt since before she was seventeen. Since before Gregory.

But if she didn’t get on the train—he had already left for the cottage—how would he know she had decided to not go? How would she tell him? A letter? But how quickly would it reach him?

What if... she bargained with herself. What if she only went for a day? She didn’t spend the night. She just went for one day and then came straight back to London? Well, she would have to spend one night because of the train schedules. But surely that would be enough to satisfy Leo and assuage her guilt about going in the first place?

Yes. That’s what she’d do. She’d still get on the eight p.m. train—her tickets were already purchased. And Leo would pick her up at the train station. And then she would come home the following evening. It would be perfectly simple to take a cab back to the hotel, and she didn’t need Georgie at all. And then she could still make all of Ophelia’s training courses that she’d planned.

Yes, Prudence wrung her hands. One night. That was it.