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

Chapter Eleven

“T he absolute nerve!” Justine flung herself down in a flounce.

“I’m honestly not that upset about it,” Prudence lied. Perhaps she should have kept the news of Leo’s father’s arrival to herself. She should have, she amended, but her friends saw her misery, despite her attempt to hide it. And out it spilled: her time with him, Thornridge, the rush to London, the auction where he’d given up on her, and then seeing stacks of money as he prepared to run from Reggie Morgan. Stacks of banknotes that sat, unmolested, in a safe. More than enough to outbid Lord Grabe.

“He’s supposed to be gallant!” Justine protested, sitting up amongst petticoats and ruffles in a massive disarray. Her face was barely visible above the frippery. “What kind of arse does that to our Prudence?”

“You look ridiculous,” Ophelia said to Justine.

Justine slapped her hands on the cushions, causing ruffles to flutter. “Of course I look ridiculous. Everything about the current fashion is ridiculous! The curls. The petticoats. The changing shapes of the cages. I hate it.”

“You used to love it,” Ophelia reminded her.

Prudence enjoyed watching the two best friends bicker. They loved each other and picked at each other. Ophelia was cool and composed, gliding purposeful towards a goal, while Justine bounced about like a puppy.

“Well, I’ve changed, haven’t I? And that’s your fault for making me enjoy hauling my carcass up a cold mountain. So you can sit and stew in that, Miss Ophelia Bridewell.” Justine sat back against the couch, causing the wood to creak.

“It is perfectly normal to feel upset about Mr. Moon’s behavior,” Eleanor said, studying Prudence’s face.

Prudence was full of turmoil thinking about him. His father. His mother. The revelations that came loose in his study that morning about his family and his father’s lack of fidelity. But surely, that shouldn’t have been a surprise. It seemed rarer that a truly handsome man kept faithful to one woman, as a handsome woman might keep faithful to one man. But then, the repercussions for a woman were much greater than for a man.

“Well, he’s a glorified bookkeeper for us anyway,” Ophelia said. “He isn’t coming on the expedition, so he doesn’t matter.”

Prudence had to remind herself that there had been an article in one of the lesser papers about how women ought not to be climbing mountains. The article had not mentioned any of them by name, nor even the Ladies’ Alpine Society, but it was so pointed in its venom, the targets could not be mistaken. This had riled up her friends, and the news of Leo’s questionable conduct only piled on their already-frayed nerves.

Perhaps marrying Gregory had spoiled her for having a man in her life. True, their partnership had its deficiencies, but he’d encouraged her to learn his business. He recognized her intelligence and didn’t stifle it. In fact, he never told her she couldn’t do anything. He’d merely advised her on how to do it. But hearing stories like Mrs. Moon’s made her realize that she was in the minority.

Everyone in this room was, in some way, beholden to a man. The only exception was Prudence, and it was only through death and wealth she had gained her freedom.

“Can we please stop all the fussing and planning and talking and just go for our run?” Justine asked.

“Are you asking to train more?” Prudence asked.

“I feel like I am crawling out of my skin. And if I do that, what am I? A bit of muck and a pile of bones. I’ll not have any suitors at all.”

Ophelia laughed. “I’m in for a run. You ladies?”

Prudence nodded, as did Eleanor. Sometimes there was too much internal turmoil, and the best solution was to take to the gardens.

Sadly, a stout run didn’t help Prudence, even if it helped Justine. Prudence returned to her Strawbridge room, hungry but not wanting to eat. Georgie was waiting for her. “You’ve another note from Mr. Moon.”

“Put it in the fire, Georgie.” Prudence pulled off the hat and gloves. She’d bathed after the run at Ophelia’s house, and wore borrowed clothing to take her exercise, but her skin felt sticky and too hot. She couldn’t bear to read a letter from Leo. Not now.

“I don’t want to overstep, but I think you should at least read them.”

Prudence threw down her accessories and took to the nearest chair to take off her walking boots. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“He needs to talk to you, though.”

“Why? He lived an entire life without me. He certainly doesn’t need me now.” She yanked off one boot and then the other.

“You were present, as was I, for some family secrets we had no business hearing.” Georgie stood and followed Prudence into the bedroom.

“Then you read the letters. You talk to him.”

“I did read this letter,” Georgie said. It should have been a shameful confession, but Georgie wasn’t capable of it.

“That’s quite the overstep, don’t you think?” Prudence said, whirling around on her. “That was my correspondence.”

Georgie didn’t even bother to frown. “It was the fire’s correspondence. There was just a longer time in my hands before, is all. And you should read it. He needs someone who might understand.”

Prudence laughed. “There’s no reason I would. My father is lovely. Nothing like Mr. Morgan.”

“It would be a decent thing to do, is all.” Georgie sighed. “Want me to undo your dress?”

It would be quicker than using her buttonholer. “Yes, please. But do I have to read the letter?”

“Yes,” Georgie said placidly, moving in her slow and steady pace across the floor. But soon, her fingers were on the back buttons of Prudence’s dress, deftly peeling open the fabric.

She had a point. Continuing her embargo of all things Leo Moon was childish. They were mature adults, and she could at least read his correspondence.

Prudence put on a more comfortable day dress, and there was a knock at the door. A bellman delivered a note—from Lord Grabe, who was waiting downstairs.

Leo’s letter would have to wait.

*

“She’s avoiding you,” his mother said, sawing away at her lump of meat.

Leo hadn’t tasted his dinner for well over a week now. His father had come by every day, sometimes long visits, sometimes short. Always asking for pocket change for this or that. Which Leo always paid, not begrudging the money, begrudging the time . There was no reason to believe that Reggie Morgan wanted anything to do with them, he only wanted Leo’s money. Despite Reggie’s very vocal protestations that he was lonely and wanted to spend them with his wife and son, Leo knew the truth: his father wanted coin.

“She isn’t avoiding me.” Leo chewed his food. He swallowed it, not tasting, not caring, just knowing he had to eat. His clothes were getting too loose, and he’d hate to have the added worry of tailoring his entire wardrobe all over again.

“She’s been seen out with Lord Grabe again.” His mother liked to drop bombshells.

This one didn’t detonate. It just dropped and smothered him beneath its weight. “He is quite the catch.” Each word hurt leaving his mouth, but he was glad for it. He wanted something to hurt right now. His world had been upended—first by the joy of Prudence, and now at her utter absence and his father’s presence. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt correct.

So he’d poured himself into his ledgers. He increased his correspondence with the men on the floor of the stock market, using their observations to gauge the feelings of the traders. And then he invested, for himself, for his clients. And he made money. That was his daily life, like a mill grinding wheat into flour. Interrupted, of course, by disturbing paternal interludes that emptied his pockets.

But Parliament had ended for the year. Most of his clients had vacated London for their country estates, to hole up and enjoy the winter with their families. Cold had seeped in, and while it had not snowed, the morning frost crusted over shallow puddles, only to break free in the meager afternoon warmth.

His mother kept dabbing her nose with a handkerchief. He’d double the coal order to keep her warm. He hadn’t noticed the chill himself. There was very little he had noticed.

“Lord Grabe has all but announced he’s looking for a wife. Do you think he would dare marry a widowed American?” His mother was incessant.

Leo put down his cutlery. “Is there something you’d like to say, Mama?”

She stared at him a moment, then put down hers as well, giving him absolute attention. “I’m trying to spur you to action.”

“By giving me the latest gossip on Lord Grabe? What action would I have, other than buying the man a celebratory drink?”

“I’m your mother, Leo. I see you in ways you cannot fathom. And I am trying to see if you harbor feelings for Mrs. Cabot. She’s a good woman. And I like her.” It was a ringing endorsement for marriage, coming from her.

“I’m shocked,” Leo said. “I thought there was no woman on earth who you would encourage me to pursue.” Because that’s what this had been. A pursuit without point. The leaden feeling in his limbs worsened. What a fool he had been. Why had he continued to write her, begging her to see him, when she never wrote him back?

His mother leveled a warning look at him. But then the footman interrupted dinner. Jeffrey bent to whisper in his ear: “Your father is here to see you.”

“We are at dinner!” Leo whispered back.

“He begs his forgiveness. Something about the cold?” The young man’s face creased with apprehension.

Leo threw his napkin on the table. “We have a guest, apparently. And not a welcome one.”

His father stood in the foyer, this time with Granson. In all the days before, Granson had not entered the house. This evening, as the young man doffed his cap, Leo saw how he’d lost a great deal of his bulk. He was no longer wide, likely the result of hard labor found in the village.

“What are doing here?” Leo asked, his voice cold, but he didn’t care. He was sick of his father’s games.

“Can a man not drop in on his son for a chat whenever he wishes?” Reggie asked.

“We’ve chatted already today. And I believe I gave you two pounds sterling while I was at it.”

“Which I was very grateful for, you are a good boy,” Reggie said.

“We’re freezin’,” Granson said, his country accent wide and broad, sounding nothing like Reggie.

“Does your boarding house not supply you with enough coal?” Leo asked. Fine, he’d give him a coal allowance too.

“There’s been a development of sorts there,” Reggie said, gesturing with his good hand, the other one tightly fisted and almost bone white.

Granson turned his face and Leo caught sight of his swollen and bruised face. “They took our money and turned us out.”

“Good heavens!” came his mother’s voice behind him. “Jeffrey, have Cook fill some water bottles for the Mr. Morgans, and have Daisy stoke the fire in the drawing room and ready two beds in the guest room.”

Leo rounded on her. “What?” If Reggie slept here, he would embed like a tick. They would never be free of his wheedling, weaseling schemes.

His mother gave him a firm look. “I’ll not allow them to freeze to death in the streets.”

“He would have done me!” Leo protested.

His mother looked over at Reggie, who had the temerity to look ashamed of himself. “Yes well, we aren’t him, are we? Compassion is a worthy trait. While we are at it, send for a physician to look over Granson. Make sure there’s nothing worse than a blackened eye.”

Granson, yes, he was willing to help the man who was his half-nephew, who he’d known since he was small. They were near in age, Granson being only a handful of years younger than Leo. He had nowhere to go than to be with Reggie. But Reggie? Leo couldn’t hide his disdain.

His mother gripped his arm, leaning on him instead of her cane. “Look at him, Leo. Really look. He isn’t the man you knew. This one is old, lame, and has no use of his left arm. What would you have me do?”

“Find a better hotel,” Leo spat.

But his mother kept her level gaze on him, using that old trick every mother had likely performed on their child since the beginning of time. The silent command. She was not asking, she was telling. And Leo had no choice in the matter.

Leo pulled his coat and hat out of the closet where Jeffrey stored them. “I’ll fetch a healer of some sort.”

*

It took Prudence some time before she mustered the courage to knock on Leo’s door. Indeed, the last time she’d been here, it had been a warm day. Now, the snow crunched under her boots as she descended from the hired hack. When the door swung open, she was informed Leo wasn’t at home. He was out with his family —his father, his mother, and his nephew.

She left her calling card, but it smarted somehow. There had been drives in the park with Lord Grabe, training with the Ladies’ Alpine Society, and then Lord Berringbone invited them all out to the country for the holidays. They’d stay the month, and Ophelia said that the family suspected he would announce his engagement to Lady Emily.

All the while, she had expected Leo to be there for her, waiting. It was the height of selfishness. And shame consumed her as she dismissed the hack, choosing instead to walk back to the Strawbridge. Leo had a family now. A bigger one, strained as it was. And she had her own busy life.

The cold seeped through her boots. More fashion than comfort for these ones. If she were being honest with herself, she’d dressed well today, to see Leo. Not sure what she wanted to have happen. Admittedly, she missed him. Every time Justine gave another wild outburst, she wanted to be able to share her friend’s antics with Leo, and let him shake his head in fondness for her.

It was silly of her to try any further relationship with Leo Moon. She could see that now. They’d both asked for a summer dalliance, and that’s what they’d gotten. A quiet, subtle love affair that never reached the ears of London’s gossip pages. She should be very satisfied with herself.

But she wasn’t. Since she dressed for fashion, and not the sudden winter chill that descended upon London, she ducked into a nearby chocolate shop to warm up. The hot chocolate was delicious, but the package of French-style chocolates that she tucked under her arm would manage her for the next few days. Until she left for the Berringbone country house.

*

Granson was an excellent carriage driver. Even with unmatched horses, he guided the vehicle with absolute ease. “I’d like to be a hack driver, I think,” the man announced. “I like being outside.”

Within a few weeks of Reggie and Granson’s arrival at his home, they’d burrowed in. But Leo found he didn’t mind. Granson sought honest work, and his father stopped talking so damn much. Indeed, his mother and father sat in the drawing room, taking turns reading to one another in the late morning, when the sun shone its brightest.

With Granson occupied, and his father content, Leo was free to spend his days working again, which he did. And with the holidays soon, his father was pressing about decorating the house—which they’d never done. His mother seemed happy to do it, so he gave them an allowance, wondering what would happen with the two of them together.

But it seemed to work, somehow. They never touched or were physically affectionate with each other. Now that his basic needs were met, Reggie no longer attempted his flirtatious seductions. Which was a relief.

Jeffrey told him that Mrs. Cabot had called while they were out purchasing the holiday decorations. Granson drove the carriage for the practice, with Leo up top giving him scarcely needed directions. The parents were inside, snug with fur blankets and hot water bottles to keep warm.

But then winter truly descended, and the temperatures plummeted. He couldn’t abandon his elderly parents and Granson to go see Prudence. He had obligations here. Indeed, his mother told him that under no circumstance was he escaping hanging the boughs of holly they’d liberated from the Covent Garden stalls that morning.

The bell rang for dinner—the first time it had been needed in ages. And he joined his family at the table, listening to his parents’ ideas for the month ahead, answering when Granson asked advice on routes around London, and discussing the needs of the household for the impending cold.

After dinner, instead of retiring with a snifter of spiced brandy, Leo decorated .

“A little to the right!” his mother called from below.

Leo stood on his tiptoes then, on the first floor, next to the stairs, hanging the pine boughs. Granson was behind him, affixing the bright red holly berries where the bough touched the ceiling.

“No, your left!” Reggie called.

Leo rolled his eyes and did as his mother directed. He drove a nail into the wood and hung the bough.

“Bravo!” His mother clapped when he finished the draping of the garland. “The silver bells next, don’t you think, Reggie?”

“Absolutely.” His parents hobbled across the foyer where the boxes sat. “Lena, did you remember the red ribbons?”

“Of course I did. Oh, but they are up in the drawing room. Leo, would you mind fetching the bag of red ribbons? It’s on top of the mending basket.”

Leo grumbled his assent, but he couldn’t help but feel dumbstruck in this domesticity. He had a real mother and real father. And there weren’t any schemes or desperate measures being discussed. No scrounging, no excessive drinking; was this what other people had gotten in their childhoods? No wonder there was a term “domestic bliss.”

The only thing Leo thought could be better was if Prudence were there. He wanted her to see them, his parents, this way. He wanted her to chat with Granson, tell him about America and Minnesota and the railways. She was the only thing missing.

He ran to his study and jotted a note. He had to catch her before this sudden snowstorm became too much for the streets of London. “I’ll be out for a moment,” he told his mother as he pulled on a jacket.

Granson was by his side in a second. “I’ll do it.”

“Not at all, I can manage,” Leo assured him.

The sheer pleading in his nephew’s gray eyes, which he was surprised to notice looked exactly like his own, made Leo soften. “Fine then. Take this to the Strawbridge hotel. Leave it with the front desk and come home straightaway. The weather will be getting worse as night falls.”

Granson reached past Leo to grab his overcoat and popped his hat on, tipping the brim to him with an off-kilter smile, revealing chipped teeth. Again, it was the first time Leo had noticed them, and he wondered how Reggie had treated him during his childhood. Leo gave Granson the note.

“Hunker down if you need to, but do try to return quickly,” Leo said, listening to the wind picking up outside.

“Obliged.” Granson wound a woolen scarf around his neck and stepped out.

*

The train ride down to Berringbone was enjoyable, and traveling in style made everything more enjoyable. She hadn’t heard from Leo before they boarded the train, and she wondered if she should have written him to let him know that she would be in the country for the entire month of December. In the end, with the snowstorm and the freezing temperatures, she didn’t send a note, not wanting to force someone to deliver the letter in hazardous circumstances.

“My brother tells me he’s planning on a holiday ball,” Ophelia said in the carriage, snug under the fur blanket with Justine. Prudence and Eleanor were on the opposite side, just as tucked in. The coach ran smoothly on the snowy road, as if the ruts were filled in.

“Who will be on the guest list?” Eleanor asked, thoroughly ensconced in the blankets.

“Essentially the same guests as last year,” Ophelia said.

Prudence’s heart leapt. Leo and his mother had attended last year. If invited, surely they would venture here.

“But there is concern about traveling if the weather keeps up as is now.”

They all looked out the windows where fat, fluffy snowflakes fell in a slow, dizzyingly innocent descent.

But it did continue. After a fortnight, Berringbone cancelled the ball. It was a reckless proposition, as not only was it a perilous journey for his guests, but also the extra servants that would be required to bring in and prepare the food and the house. It was still a jolly holiday with the Bridewells and Prudence’s friends. The Pipers came out to be with Eleanor and her new husband, and Georgie seemed content with listening to Mrs. Piper’s chronic ailments.

But the days were slow for Prudence. They hiked in the snow with heavy woolen jackets on, allowing them a better idea of the conditions on the Matterhorn. She waited for the post to come, and when it did, was always disappointed when nothing came from Leo.

Until the day the post finally arrived, practically overflowing with letters for everyone.

“The weather,” Ophelia said as way of an explanation. The piles were sorted, and Prudence’s mail had been forwarded from the hotel. It contained two letters for Georgie, and a delicious stack for Prudence from her family. But as she flipped through the pile, one unsealed missive caught her attention.

Leo’s handwriting was clear and precise. His words simple and lacking any subtext of scandal. But Prudence was convinced she knew what it meant. She read between his sorry I missed you , and his deeply regret not being available. The feelings could be of her own invention, but perhaps they weren’t.

Clutching her remaining letters, she stood, looked at Georgie and said, “I have to go to London.”

“What, now?” Justine asked, looking at the window outside where even more snow fell.

Prudence followed her gaze to the weather, the dark, the difficulty such a journey would entail.

“For Mr. Moon?” Eleanor asked quietly.

Prudence nodded, afraid that if she spoke aloud, tears might start to trail down her cheeks. There was so much emotion that she hadn’t allowed herself to feel, all struggling to get out all at once.

The rest of the women were on their feet immediately.

“I’ll help you pack,” Georgie said, moving uncharacteristically quickly.

“I’ll arrange a carriage to the train, and find the schedule. Father has all of that.” Ophelia strode off to her father’s study. If anyone could make her logistics smoother, it was their leader.

“I’ll get you a basket prepped downstairs. Still a journey, and you’ll need some tea and sandwiches.” Justine grabbed Eleanor.

“I’ll get the warm bricks,” Eleanor said. “I know what to do, Justine. No need to prompt.”

The room emptied, and Prudence’s eyes glassed over with tears at the support from her friends. She couldn’t live without them, it seemed. They were a new family here in England, since her birth family was so very far away. She clutched their letters to her breast and headed up to her room to get changed.

She caught up to Georgie on the stairs.

“I think I might stay here for this,” Georgie said, her wide face scrunching up in question.

“That would be—” Prudence hadn’t thought this through. “—that would probably be for the best.”

In her bedroom, Prudence changed into her heaviest wool frock, with thick woolen underthings. Georgie was halfway through packing when Ophelia knocked and entered.

“Father is going with you,” she said. “He’ll wire ahead to make sure you have a carriage there waiting for you. It’s too cold to take chances.”

Prudence nodded, but doubt suddenly struck. Was she making something out of nothing? Was Leo only being polite in response to her visit? She had to put that thought out of her mind before she lost her courage.

*

Jeffrey appeared in the drawing room with a silver tray. “A telegram, sir.”

It was nearly Christmas, and the room was filled with a sensory delight Leo had never known. Between his mother and father, the room looked and smelled like the very definition of cozy. The scents of cinnamon and clove wafted above the aroma of beeswax candles, and the garlands of pine gave a whimsical touch and a heady smell of forest. They were all there together in this beautiful room, the silver bells glinting in the firelight. His body felt loose from the spiced wine and the brandy that had followed dinner.

Jeffrey brought the platter over, and Leo snatched the paper up. She was coming. In the cold and the snow. He looked at the clock in the corner. They had an hour before the train arrived. Enough time to prepare the carriage, and gather up extra blankets. Would he take her back to her Strawbridge, or would he bring her here?

He looked up, panic clutching his chest. “Granson, would you be willing to drive me to the train station?”

“What, now?” he asked, his gaze going to the dark window, where they could see fat snowflakes wafting to the ground.

“We need to meet the next train in an hour.” Leo caught the exchanged glance between his mother and father. “Don’t look at each other like that.”

His mother ignored his comment. “Would this be a telegram from Mrs. Cabot, by any chance?”

“No,” he said, if only to prove her wrong, even if she was right in spirit. “But she is arriving on the next train.”

A smile cracked his mother’s face, and his father hid his grin, knowing it would only irritate Leo.

“That pretty bird you had with you at the cottage?” Granson asked. When Leo gave him a harsh look, he added, “She seemed very nice.”

“Will you drive?” Leo repeated, getting to his feet. There was so much to do, but he couldn’t figure out what he needed to happen first.

“I’ll get the horses ready and bring the carriage around front.” Granson put his snifter down. As he was leaving the room, he put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “I’m glad. You look a proper man with her by your side.”

“I’ll alert the cook to warm up something for a meal. She’ll no doubt need something to fortify her after a cold journey,” his mother said, accepting the cane that Reggie handed to her.

“I’ll find Daisy and let her know to remake my bed. I’ll bunk in with Granson tonight.” Reggie stood and then gave that old mischievous grin. “Unless Mrs. Cabot will be bunking with you, that is.”

His mother, now on her feet, hit him with her cane. “Don’t be presumptuous, Reggie. That was always your problem.”

“According to you, I’ve had a great deal of problems,” he grumbled.

“Obviously.” His mother sniffed. “And how fortunate for you that you’ll finally listen to me and fix them.”

“I’ll tell Daisy and then move my things,” Reggie said, still smothering a grin.

Leo bolted from the room, changing into warmer clothes and shouting down to his mother to have Cook prep warm bricks, a hot water bottle, and to alert Jeffrey to find all the heavy carriage blankets and put them inside after Granson brought it around front.

*

The wind howled through the train station. Despite her woolen ensemble from head to toe, Prudence shivered. Her toes were hard chunks of ice crammed in her boots, and she flexed her fingers to keep them warm. She held a carpetbag, while her trunk had been loaded onto the next train and delivered to the hotel.

She put her head down to move through the cold, until she heard her name. Snapping up to see who shouted for her over the howl of the winter winds in the practically deserted station, she staggered when she saw Leo.

He hurried to her, taking her carpetbag and swooping her toward the exit. She moved with him, staring up at him. They didn’t speak. He locked eyes with her, and she felt a surge of comfort and safety. Of rightness .

The carriage was ready, and the driver tipped his cap to her beneath his mountain of blankets. She climbed in and immediately relaxed. It was warm—hot bricks sat in the foot warmer position, and there was a hot water bottle wrapped in soft cotton, meant for her to hold, which she did gratefully.

Leo arranged a blanket over her and hit the carriage to spur it on. They stared at each other. Prudence didn’t know what to say. Her chest felt tight. Seeing his face, with its cutting cheekbones and his steel-gray eyes, made her jaw clench in wanting.

“Prudence.” His voice was hoarse and so welcome to hear.

“Leo.” His name was like music, as if she were singing to him when she said his name.

“You came.” His body was rigid, coiled, as if he were going to spring forward. She wanted him to—just to be nearer. If she were going to read his expression, she thought he was happy to see her. “Why?”

Her stomach dropped. Perhaps he hadn’t missed her the way she had missed him. The months apart had been a slow, quiet agony. The drives in Hyde Park with Lord Grabe were tedious, the endless hours of training with her friends had been distractions, pouring herself into a physical world so that she didn’t have to feel the weight of his absence. Her eyes dropped away from him, and unbidden a shivering gasp came out of her.

“Prudence,” he whispered. “I missed you.”

She looked up at him again, desperate now for any kind word.

“I wrote you letter after letter, everything from long-form desperation, to short notes begging to see you. Why now?” The mask he wore for everyone else was gone. She looked at his vulnerable self. The one who had begged for her.

She closed her eyes, not wanting to admit her pettiness, her selfishness. “I—” She couldn’t manage it. “—I only just got your last note.”

He looked pained, as if what she said wasn’t enough. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, which was a truth she couldn’t admit: that his unwillingness to get the highest bid at the ball hurt her. That his attempt to abandon her in a strange countryside in a foreign country felt like a betrayal of the most basic kind.

But she wanted to hear his side. His absence felt worse than any of these. All of those words clogged in her throat, the emotions spinning out of control.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Leo looked out the window. “Things have changed since the last we spoke.”

Again the panic that swam in the brackish pond of her feelings rose to the surface. The carriage lurched to a stop. Had he met someone else?

“My mother is happy that you came as well,” Leo assured her, getting out first to help her down.

The chill bit into her, and those steps into the house were almost painful on her toes that had only begun to thaw. They entered the house, the familiar foyer, and the boyish footman helped her with her hat and gloves as Mrs. Moon leaned over the first-floor railing.

“Mrs. Cabot!” She looked happier than last Prudence had seen her. There was a blush to her cheeks and a surprising new ease to the way she moved. Behind her came Mr. Morgan.

Prudence startled and looked to Leo.

“Part of the changes,” Leo admitted. But he didn’t look stressed by the man’s presence, only chagrined.

“Come up to the drawing room and warm up, once you have all those sodden layers off you.” Mrs. Moon turned away, leaning on her cane. “Come along, Reggie,” she said to Mr. Morgan, as if he weren’t waiting for her.

Clearly something had changed if Mrs. Moon bossed Mr. Morgan around as if he were her lapdog. She looked to Leo again, and he smiled. “Let’s get you upstairs next to the fire. Cook has prepared a tray for you.”

After Prudence had finally doffed her fur hat and woolen everything else, she noticed the décor. Aside from a shop, she’d never seen a place so festive for the holidays. Pine boughs punctuated with red holly berries and silver bells accentuated every architectural detail. Even the string of red wooden balls lent a festive air, coiled in a large glass bowl, with preserved feathers instead of hothouse flowers.

“This is beautiful,” she said, peering at all the efforts.

“I’d save your praise for the drawing room.” Leo offered his arm to her, and she took it.

Now devoid of so many other layers of fabric, his arm felt like a dose of laudanum. It was pleasure and honey-sweet drunkenness all at once. They ascended the staircase, and the pleasant aroma of cinnamon and cloves, of beeswax and lemon polish, all came floating in around her. Her past homes had never smelled so pleasing, but somehow, this was the most she’d ever felt “at home.”

It was as if the feeling of taking off her shoes and stockings became a scent. The feeling of taking all the pins from her hair, and the corset from her body, and changing out a linen shift damp from the sweat of her body, it was here, embodied in different senses.

And then they entered the drawing room, the epicenter of this harmony. Draped again in pine boughs and silver bells, the spiced scent stronger here, with the crackling fire to warm her, a tray of food, and the welcoming smile of her dear friend, Mrs. Moon.

“Sit here, darling,” Mrs. Moon said, gesturing to the chair next to the fire on one side, and Mrs. Moon on the other.

It didn’t escape Prudence’s notice that Mrs. Moon called her darling. Other than the Spanish Do?a who had called everyone darling, no one had felt her dear enough to call her so. It felt extravagant.

Prudence’s toes weren’t the only bits thawing. Her heart ached to belong here, to stay here, to revel in this welcome. Gratefully, she sank into the chair and Leo took up the one nearest to her. He wanted to be next to her!

“It is lovely to see you again, Mrs. Cabot,” Mr. Morgan said from across the small table that held her tray.

“And you, Mr. Morgan.” Prudence smiled, her cheeks hurting with the thawing of her skin. It seemed all had been patched up in the weeks she’d missed Leo. She was happy for them—they seemed complete somehow, more relaxed than she’d ever seen Mrs. Moon. And Mr. Morgan seemed like an altogether gentler person than he had when he’d first met her in her hotel lobby.

“Mr. Morgan is responsible for the decoration you see,” Mrs. Moon said, gesturing to the garlands and bells.

“I beg your pardon,” Leo said with mock indignation.

Prudence couldn’t help but giggle at his teasing tone. They seemed like a family!

“Leo hung it all,” Mr. Morgan admitted.

“Why not have help from your footman?”

Mrs. Moon again waved her hand. “This was a family affair, and needed to be done by the family.”

“They say that, knowing that I was the only one tall enough in this family to do so,” Leo said wryly, but not without affection.

“Tuck in, dear. You must be famished.” Mrs. Moon looked pointedly at the plate in front of Prudence.

As they bickered, Prudence ate the pork with a cranberry sauce, the chunks of seared potatoes, and the thick slice of bread with butter and honey. Her stomach was full and her heart content. She wanted to forget any misgivings she’d ever had about Leo, about their affair, all of it, and mindlessly reenter the times they had in the spring. She had missed him far more than she’d been willing to admit.

But then another man walked into the room. He was welcomed and admitted not as a servant but as one of their own. Prudence stared as Leo introduced Granson Morgan.

He was the stout man that had been asking for Lenny Morgan at the cottage. Prudence went cold. The one that made Leo willing to abandon her in the countryside because he’d appeared. And now he was, by the looks of it, living here?

Prudence glanced between the happy faces of her hosts and hostess. None of them felt his presence was amiss. Alarm bells clanged in her head. Her heart began to hurt—the reminder of Leo’s dismissal of her safety roaring to the surface.

“I am feeling a little overwhelmed,” Prudence said to no one in particular. “I think I might need to retire early.”

Leo sprang to his feet. “I can show you to your room.”

Prudence looked around to see if anyone else could—but Mrs. Moon had her cane, Mr. Morgan would be just as inappropriate, and like hell she was going anywhere with Granson Morgan.

Leo walked her down the hallway, but while he waited for her to speak, her mind whirled like a top.

“Prudence, I don’t know why—”

They reached her door. “I’m really very tired, Leo.” Prudence put her hand on the doorknob. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”

He nodded, his expression strangely open to her. She was able to read his confusion and disappointment and hope that had all flickered across the sharp lines and steel-gray eyes. “Tomorrow.”

Prudence slunk gratefully into the guest room. She took off her boots by the fire that was already warming the room, and then began to cry. There was no true reason for it—not just one anyway. She cried because she was exhausted. She cried because she was lonely. She cried because Leo had wanted to abandon her because of the man who now lived in his house. She cried because she was still scared that this man was in the house and she didn’t know how he came to be there, only that he was some kind of relation.

She cried because she wanted to be with her friends, but at the same time was glad she came. She cried because she missed the steady presence of Gregory, even if he hadn’t been the husband that she’d wanted. She cried because she was a young widow and she didn’t get to have the lives that Ophelia and Justine got to have. And she sobbed because she was so lucky, and yet not.