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

Chapter Ten

T he members of the Ladies’ Alpine Society stayed at the Rascomb residence overnight, arising in the morning to seek each other out in their bedrooms in their nightshifts and dressing gowns in the morning.

Eventually, they all ended up in Ophelia’s room, in her giant bed, with a tray full of leftover fruits and cheeses and a hot pot of chocolate.

“I almost died when I heard—” Justine puffed up her chest and dropped her voice into a gravelly bass “—One. Thousand. Pounds.”

Prudence shook her head, tearing a bread roll into even smaller pieces. She was embarrassed to have had that kind of attention. Mostly because it ended up being Lord Grabe on her arm, and not Leo. She had a lump in her throat for the rest of the night, despite the viscount’s attentions. The man had given up championing Leo, and set about championing himself in Prudence’s eyes.

Why he would waste time with her, she didn’t know. Wasn’t he supposed to marry some blue-blood girl barely out of the schoolroom? Still, he was handsome, and that didn’t make for a difficult way to pass the time, even if she wished he were someone else.

“I never thought we’d make that much money at all,” Ophelia confessed. “Not even close.”

“It was because Justine set the mood with the army of suitors bidding right at the beginning.” Prudence was happy to set the attention on Justine, who always seemed to have an army of suitors at the ready.

Justine stuck out her tongue, which only made her cheek dimple. Cute as a button. “They are all useless.”

“Not to us,” Eleanor said. “That five hundred pounds will do nicely to get us comfortable train tickets.”

“Fine,” Justine allowed. “Their money isn’t useless. But the men are twits. I can’t stand them.”

“How much did we total?” Eleanor asked Prudence.

“Two thousand and fifty pounds.” Prudence looked each woman in the face as they broke out in brilliant smiles. They sat silent for a moment as the huge sum echoed in the air, as if it had weight of its own.

“We have plenty,” Ophelia said.

“We’ll get the best ropes!” Eleanor said, barely containing a squeal.

“And the best guides,” Prudence added.

“And the best sleeping cars,” Justine added with a mischievous grin.

“We’re going to climb the Matterhorn,” Ophelia whispered.

The realization sunk in for all of them. It was no longer an “if” plan. There were no more hurdles. There was only training and packing. Tears welled up in Eleanor’s eyes, and if Prudence didn’t know better, she would have thought she saw them shining in Ophelia’s as well.

Justine wiggled with excitement, causing the cheese plate to tip over onto the bed. “Oh blast,” she said, picking up the pieces.

It was later that evening when Prudence drug herself back to the hotel. Georgie met her there and helped her with her trunk and ran her a bath. Prudence gave her a report of the dancing and the bidding as she soaked in lavender-scented bubbles.

Georgie gave her head a nice massage when Prudence told her how Leo had bid and bid, until he’d given up on her. Without meaning to, Prudence might have let it be known that it was so very disappointing.

She ordered dinner for both of them, asking for a simple American dish of scrambled eggs, only to find that when they came they were wet and filled with cream. She stared down the dish, the toast completely cold beside it, and a serving of stewed mushrooms whose water started to mix with the absolutely sopping eggs. “I can’t,” Prudence said.

It was the look of utter sympathy on Georgie’s face that made Prudence begin to cry. At one point, Prudence even questioned why tears were continuing to form and fall from her face, only to have Georgie utter a motherly cluck, which caused Prudence to sob all the more.

Georgie put her to bed. It wasn’t even seven in the evening. Prudence wept, feeling silly and small and unlovable. She didn’t know when she stopped weeping and fell into a dark sleep.

The next morning, feeling somewhat refreshed, slightly puffy, and now, quite hungry, Prudence rose to face a new day. It was strange to have the ball behind her. And no Leo. And no Mrs. Moon to visit.

But she needn’t have worried. Her foyer table was thick with cards and notes, from strangers and friends alike. She ordered a pot of coffee to be brought up, and rang down for Georgie. They shared the pot and went through the correspondence. Prudence had never felt the sudden reversal of emotions so severe. Where last night she felt awful and unloved, all these notes and letters made it clear she was sought after and appreciated. There was even a letter from her sister and her mother in the stack—always a beloved piece of her week—and a strange note left with the front desk.

Mrs. Cabot,

Please forgive my forwardness. I believe you know the whereabouts of someone very dear to me. Please meet me at a place of your choosing. I need only a moment of your time. I will check back in tomorrow morning at eight a.m. for your answer.

Kindest regards,

Mr. Reginald Morgan

Normally she wouldn’t think of meeting a stranger anywhere. But Morgan was the last name. And the stranger at the cottage had asked for Lenny Morgan, and now here was a Reginald Morgan, looking for someone. Hadn’t that stranger said something about a Reggie? Did they believe she knew where Lenny Morgan was? What would she find out if she met with Mr. Morgan?

“Georgie, I think I’m about to make a terrible decision.” Prudence looked over to her companion. Georgie didn’t even look up.

“What time?” was all she asked.

“Eight a.m. tomorrow.”

“I’ll be ready at seven thirty,” she said, tossing aside another card.

At a quarter to eight, both women were in the lobby of the hotel. Prudence had delivered a message to the bellhop the night before, telling the man where to meet them in the afternoon, should his appearance prove unsettling.

But instead of a highwayman, a well-dressed man appeared exactly at eight, ringing the bell for service. His coat was of a slightly older style, but given the salt-and-pepper hair and the fact that he likely lived in the country, Prudence was willing to overlook it as a sign of something untoward. He was tall and slim, a build that Prudence couldn’t help but notice was much like Leo’s, and drummed his fingers with impatience at the counter.

Prudence looked at Georgie.

“I’ve got a derringer in my reticule,” Georgie whispered.

“Do you really?” Prudence asked, surprised.

Georgie just gave her a reassuring nod. Prudence returned the gesture and stood.

“Mr. Morgan, I presume?” Prudence approached him, extending her hand as an American businessman would. Old habits died hard.

He looked at her in surprised pleasure. “Mrs. Cabot?”

She nodded, and he took her hand, giving it a less than enthusiastic squeeze. She dropped her hand. “Lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. His eyes were very blue, and despite his age, he was handsome. One side of his face did appear to droop slightly, but it did little to damage his good looks. “I do apologize for being so forward.”

“If it is for a good cause, I certainly don’t mind. This is my companion, Miss Georgina Pendansky, she’ll be going with us. There is a teashop around the corner that opens quite early. We could go there, if you like.”

“What suits you, suits me, Mrs. Cabot.” Mr. Morgan swept into a gallant bow, a gesture that strangely reminded her of Lord Grabe’s theatrics.

“This way, then,” Prudence said, unsure of what to do.

The trio found themselves at a workingman’s café, where they were clearly out of place. They served tea in heavy ceramic mugs and heavy, crumbling scones the size of her fist. It wasn’t refined, and Prudence loved it. Somehow, it made her feel less homesick.

“Now, Mr. Morgan,” Prudence said after they’d found a high table with stools. It was not where a lady might sit, but then, she and Georgie were Americans, and it took far more to ruffle her. Mr. Morgan likewise didn’t look askance at their surroundings. She found that interesting too. Based on his clothing, she thought him maybe a country gentleman, who might be aghast at eating with the working classes. “What brings you to my door?”

“That is just the thing, Mrs. Cabot,” he said. His accent struck her ear oddly. It was a cultured accent like Ophelia’s and her family’s, but there was something else there that she couldn’t put her finger on. A native speaker could easily suss it out, she was sure. There was something about this man that felt false. But she couldn’t say why. “I believe you came to my door first.”

“Oh?” she asked.

“I don’t mean to be indelicate, but I believe you rented a cottage on my property.”

Prudence blinked. Leo had said once, quite by accident, that he owned Thornridge, but then he said Lenny Morgan owned it. Could it actually belong to this man?

She was not about to get into a land dispute between two men. Especially when one of them was Leo, who clearly didn’t value her enough to win her time. Was eleven hundred pounds an unreasonable sum? Yes, of course. But she knew he had it. He’d looked straight at her and given up. It had hurt worse than she ever could have realized.

“Hm. And were you not paid for the rental of this space?” she asked, sipping her tea, letting the pieces of this strange puzzle fit where they may.

“That is just it, my dear. When I checked on it, the caretakers, lovely people, insisted it had been paid for. But I simply didn’t receive the rent. I believe my son did.”

A piece of scone stuck in her throat. She coughed and swallowed some more tea. “And who is your son?”

“That’s just it. When I sent my man for him, the couple renting the cottage up and left. Very odd.”

“And you think I am the woman from the cottage,” Prudence asked.

Mr. Mason nodded. “A pretty American heiress makes a stir in a small town. Even in a big town. Your name and likeness was all over the papers the last day or so.”

The charity ball had made quite an impression. With so very little left in the social season, their grand event took over the gossip columns.

Prudence was glad Georgie had a derringer at the ready, just in case. There was something about this man that discomfited her. Put her on edge. “You never told me who your son would be? Since that is the person you are truly looking for?”

“It is. His birth name is Leonard Morgan. I have every reason to believe he thinks me dead. I did, some years ago, have a devastating health issue, an apoplexy that left me paralyzed for some time. I was away, and no doubt they’d heard I had not survived. My wife and child were gone by the time I got back. Broke my heart. Couldn’t find them anywhere.”

Again, somehow Prudence didn’t fully believe him. The droop of Mr. Morgan’s face was a clear enough sign of apoplexy—Gregory had suffered episodes as well, causing him paralysis of one entire side of his body. It had been the harbinger of the end.

“Outside of your acquaintance, I’m sorry to say that I know of no Mr. Morgan,” Prudence said, which was the utter truth. Georgie had put both of her hands under the table and was no longer pretending to sip her mug of tea.

“I’m not sure why, perhaps there were creditors—none surfaced when I returned, of course—but I believe he changed his name. He might still go by his first name. I always called him ‘Leo’ for short. My little lion. He was such a cute boy. I’ve missed him so.” Mr. Morgan put a hand to his chest, as if he was pining for the boy of the past.

It was a theatric again. And Prudence had no doubt in her mind that she was looking at Leopold Moon’s birth father. The tall, slim build was an echo of Leo’s, as were the high cheekbones. Instead of gray eyes that glinted like steel, this Mr. Morgan had blue eyes that no doubt charmed many a young lady in his youth.

“Tell you what, Mr. Morgan. I will seek out my acquaintances and tell them you’ve arrived in London, wanting an introduction. I will not make a big deal of your possible relation, in case I don’t have the correct man in mind. You could check back with me at the end of the week, and I’ll be happy to inform you of all I’ve found.”

“Bless you, young lady. My old heart beats with hope once again.” Mr. Morgan stared her down, no doubt hoping to use his blue eyes to their full effect. But Prudence didn’t swoon at the sight of blue eyes. Not when she had been taken by the cool strength of gray ones.

None of them finished their repast. Prudence stood, and Georgie echoed her movement, hand sliding out of her reticule. “Good day, Mr. Morgan. I’ll speak with you soon.”

*