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

Chapter Twelve

L eo was up at dawn. He was normally an early riser, but not usually this early. He’d slept poorly, anticipating his talk with Prudence. She’d seemed so happy to arrive last night, and he was sure that she felt... what, exactly? She’d traveled through a snowstorm to see him. Clearly she felt something positive.

And what was he asking for? His training as a broker reared up. He needed to be clear about what he wanted before he could make any demands of her. They certainly couldn’t be so cavalier as to fall into bed together without making sure feelings were known. Even though he’d missed her so much. The knowledge that she slept in under his roof made it difficult to think straight. The memory of her taste, of her feel, the swell of her calves as they melted into the back of her knee, and the rise of her strong thighs... he needed to not think that way. He was getting hard, and that made thinking impossible.

Leo worked in his study, and when he heard stirrings of others in the house, he took the daily newspapers into the breakfast room. He felt as if he were lying in wait for Prudence. And in some ways, he was. But not as one might ambush an enemy, more as a man impatient for the woman he liked very much.

His mother would not be down for breakfast—she had always taken a tray in her room. Reggie would sometimes take a tray and sometimes come down. “Jeffrey,” Leo said as the footman came in with his coffee, “would you be so good as to make Mr. Morgan a tray? He should take breakfast in his room.”

Granson appeared, filled his plate and sat down. His mouth full of jammy toast, he asked, “What?”

Leo shook his head, as if he weren’t wishing Granson gone with all of his being. Then Prudence appeared. She looked lovely. Her dark-green day dress was embroidered with white and pale-green botanical designs, and Leo barely managed to keep himself from sighing as she swished across the room.

Granson watched Leo watching Prudence. He swallowed his toast hard and picked up his plate. “Excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” He scurried out of the room, for which, if he noticed correctly, both he and Prudence were glad.

Leo said nothing as Prudence fixed her plate. Jeffrey asked if she would prefer tea or coffee, and Leo was gratified when she answered coffee, just like him. “Good morning,” he said to her as she sat down next to him.

She gave him a tentative smile, which confused him. Prudence was known for her embarrassingly large American smiles. He frowned as she returned his greeting in a small voice.

Then he noticed the puffy redness about her eyes. She’d been crying. He didn’t know what to say, so he put his hand on the table, palm up, inviting her to hold his hand.

She looked at it, as if she were debating the wisdom of touching him, but then slid her hand into his. Even that small contact felt so good to have.

“May I ask what has you out of sorts?” Leo curled his fingers around her hand.

She looked away. Leo didn’t blame her, speaking of discomfort was against his upbringing as well. But they had to find some way through the thornbush in their relationship. She withdrew her hand as Jeffrey entered and placed a coffee pot between them. He poured Prudence a cup.

“Jeffrey, please excuse us. I’ll ring for you when we are finished.” Leo dismissed him, once again taking the room for the two of them.

Prudence sipped at her cup with both hands, clearly fortifying herself. Leo could do nothing, say nothing. He was at an utter loss.

“Who is Granson?” she asked after she cleared her throat.

Leo started. “He is my father’s grandson and aide-de-camp. Why?”

“ Who is he? Was he the man that appeared at the cottage last summer? The menacing stranger?” Her eyes finally met his, but he saw no warmth there. This must be how she was when she did business. Cool, polite, detached. Her bearing was confident but not aggressive. Like encountering a wall of smooth concrete.

“He was, yes.”

“The one asking for Lenny Morgan.”

“Yes.”

“Which was you, at one point.”

“Correct.” Leo felt like he was being interrogated. “What is this about?”

Prudence squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, she took another big sip of coffee with both hands. “Do you remember that morning at the cottage?”

“Of course I do. I remember every moment at that cottage.” Leo had never dreamed it could have been so good between them. When he’d bought it outright in his own name years ago as an investment, he’d never thought to use it as a vacation home for his... what was Prudence to him? Mistress sounded so wrong.

“Then you’ll remember your panic over Granson’s appearance there.”

“Yes. And at the time, based on what I knew of my father and his previous activities, it was warranted. I was unwilling to risk an encounter with my father while you were at my side.”

She cocked her head to the side, and her expression wasn’t a smile, nor was it exactly a grimace. Leo did not like what it meant. “If that fear was about me, why did you tell me that you would leave me there?”

“I certainly did not say that,” Leo protested. Did he say that? It didn’t seem like he would.

“You, in fact, did. I refused to leave without knowing more about what had you spooked, and instead of explaining or even looking at me directly, you told me in no uncertain terms that you were leaving and I could stay if I liked.”

“I was only trying to get you to come with me,” Leo protested. Now that she put it like that, he did remember saying it. But he hadn’t meant it. Not in so many words. It was an ultimatum employed to get her to do the right thing.

“Can you look at that scenario from my point of view? I’m an American in the English countryside, and the man with whom I’m having a scandalous affair threatens to leave me in the middle of nowhere when an unknown man who scares him shows up?”

Leo frowned. “But I wouldn’t have left you there.”

“But you said you would.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean it.”

Prudence sat back in her chair. He could see the muscle in her jaw ticking. “And now that very man who scared you lives in this house. The man who frightened you enough to abandon me slept under the same roof as both of us last night.”

“You were there when my father arrived,” Leo said. Prudence was twisting things around. Granson was helpful and mild. Really, he was a wonderful man, needing only a bit of direction now that he was in London. “You saw how convoluted and messy everything was between us.”

Prudence looked away, and Leo could see tears shining in her eyes.

“Prudence, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you. Is that why you stopped reading my letters?”

A giant tear rolled down her cheek, and Leo realized then and there that he’d rather be punched in the face by Granson than witness this. Prudence nodded her head. So that had been his error: threatening to abandon her to a man that he’d convinced her was dangerous. Oh, that made him feel very bad. Very bad indeed.

“But I didn’t know. If you’d told me, I could have—”

“—Explained?” she interrupted. “I asked for that explanation, and you refused to give it. Not there in the cottage, not on the train. You made it very clear, Leo. I existed for fucking, not for talking.”

Her vulgarity made him draw back. He couldn’t even speak. That’s what she thought of him? Was that the American brazenness coming to bear in their conversation? “That is not—”

“I know you’d never say it aloud, Leo.” Prudence leveled him with a gaze that he’d never seen before on anyone. The malice there. “Because you’re too polite. But was that not our initial agreement? No relationship, just bedsport? Well, we did that.” She looked out the window.

Leo still couldn’t speak. The world had upended itself, and he hadn’t a clue what was happening.

“The weather has cleared up. I’ll take a hack to the hotel and be out of your hair.” Prudence stood, drank the rest of the coffee, and left the room. Leo stared at her untouched plate of food. He felt as if an explosive had been set off in the room, and he sat there dumbfounded, ears ringing.

He was still sitting there when he heard the front door slam. She’d left. How had everything gone so horribly, horribly wrong? She had seemed so happy last night, dazzled by the holiday décor, by the friendly chatter of his parents. It was the sight of Granson that changed her. Reminded her of the perceived injustice, for honestly, who in their right mind would leave a woman alone in the countryside to be discovered by undesirables? He certainly would not do so.

But he had said he would, and why would she not believe him?

It was too early for scotch. Besides, he found that he liked the sweet molasses taste of Kentucky bourbon.

*

When Prudence arrived at the hotel, she discovered they’d rented out her suite. She knew this was a possibility, and all of her extra trunks were packed and stowed in the basement of the hotel. She was, after all, planning to be gone for at least a month.

According to Mr. Brown, the red-cheeked manager with brown hair and red whiskers on his face, a minor German aristocrat arrived and needed a place befitting their rank. They were perhaps related to Prince Albert? Or had met him once? Or perhaps they were to be the new ambassadors? Mr. Brown was unclear and wheezing, making it very difficult to follow the very long and apologetic explanation. This same aristocrat had likewise filled the rest of the rooms with his extensive entourage, and there was no place for Prudence to stay there.

Still, she collected her mail that had not yet been forwarded to the countryside and left.

With no room at the inn, which Prudence tried to find humor in during this holiday time, she was at a loss of where to go. She most decidedly did not want to return to Berringbone’s estate where there were games planned and jolly times to be had. She needed a place to hole up and lick her wounds, like a stray cat. She went the only place she could think of: the in-town home of Ophelia’s family.

A year ago, if someone told Prudence that she would be imposing upon a viscount during the month of December, she would have been appalled. But their friendships had grown deeper, and she knew the staff wouldn’t turn her away. She stopped and sent a note to Lord Rascomb regarding her hopes to stay until her hotel suite became available, and after a nibble at the café where she’d met with Mr. Morgan, she went to the Rascomb townhome, weary and in need of solace.

The housekeeper, the solid Mrs. Murty, knew to expect her arrival, and while Lord Rascomb had gone out, and would be gone until late, Prudence was welcome to stay and avail herself of anything he had to offer, including access to his private cellar. Prudence was grateful for the hospitality, almost bursting into tears to have access to the indoor plumbing of the residence, and the cold cheese and fruit tray with excellent Madeira port.

Under normal circumstances, Prudence would not be someone to drink to excess. But tonight, after her hot bath that left her pale skin red like a lobster, it seemed not only a good idea, but the best possible one. She paced in her room, drinking from her glass, railing against Leo. She redrew her words from earlier that morning, making them more elegant, more pointed, more biting.

And then she went into the other things that he’d done to hurt her. About how he didn’t win her at the ball. About how he kept himself so apart from her with the exception of when they were in bed together.

She drank until she started to laugh. Then she finished off the plate of hard, salty cheese and fell asleep.

The next morning came without remorse. Days did not have any compunction when dealing with the brokenhearted. Her body felt stiff and her eyes felt dry, but she felt calmer than she had the day before. Having no plan for the day, and no company—not that she would be fit for it anyway—Prudence spent longer brushing her hair and massaging lotion into her dry hands.

Without prompting, Mrs. Murty brought up a tea tray in the midafternoon, noting no doubt that Prudence had not eaten yet, nor come out of her rooms.

“I wanted to make you aware that you will be having company this evening, and that dinner has been ordered,” the housekeeper said as she placed the tray on the table near the fireplace.

Prudence felt her cheeks heat. Had her one-sided argument grown too loud last night? Had they noted how much wine she’d drunk? Embarrassment flooded her. “Thank you, Mrs. Murty.”

“Mr. Sellers has sent over for your trunks at the hotel. Perhaps there is a gown from there we can ready for you?”

It was then that Prudence realized she had left her day dress out and had managed to spill wine on it last night in her pacing. Mrs. Murty had no doubt noticed that. And noted her lack of luggage.

“Thank you. Yes, if you have someone to spare for me, I would be very grateful.”

“Of course. I shall send a maid up once the trunk arrives.” Mrs. Murty left, perfunctory and thorough, as a housekeeper must be.

It made Prudence think of Mrs. Moon, and her background as a housekeeper. The thought of Mrs. Moon was the first pierce of that day’s armor, and it wasn’t long until Prudence was back in the bed, wishing she could sleep through the fact that her chest felt as if it might cave in. She should have wondered what company was coming, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered.

She must have slept, because the scratching at the door woke her. In crept a maid with one of Prudence’s dinner gowns in her arms. And not far behind her was Justine, followed by Eleanor, and then Ophelia running down the hallway to keep up.

“You’re here!” Justine crowed.

“And awake!” Eleanor added. Eleanor was wearing house slippers and shucked them off and climbed into Prudence’s bed.

Ophelia flounced onto the end of the bed. “How did it go?”

Prudence sat up, and they all saw her face.

“Oh,” Justine said, the response they all seemed to have as one. “That bad?”

Prudence flopped back down. “I can’t.”

“Of course not,” Eleanor tutted, taking Prudence’s hand. “Now, what can you not do?”

“Everything,” Prudence groaned. “Anything. Be a reasonable person. Love another person. Forgive. Forget.”

“Do we know what exactly Mr. Moon did that was so unforgiveable?” Ophelia whispered to Justine.

“Do we want to know is the better question,” Justine said.

“I’ll tell you the details,” Prudence said. “If you want.”

Prudence opened up every secret to her friends, the bits she’d glossed over before. She ended her recital with yesterday morning’s argument, and his inability to speak after she accused him of wanting her only for bedsport. She even admitted precisely what she’d said that shocked Leo so much. Even Justine was shocked.

Prudence lay back again, unsure of what to do with herself. She felt tired all over again. Eleanor left the bed, leaving a cold spot behind. But soon she returned with Mrs. Murty’s tea tray. Eleanor poured a cup and made Prudence drink it.

“I don’t really even like tea that much,” Prudence protested, but the other three all gave her resoundingly cold glares. Eleanor poured a second cup after Prudence finished the first, and then insisted on Prudence eating the nibbles left on the tray.

“I wish we could just go now,” Prudence said.

“Go where?” Ophelia asked.

“Switzerland. I want to go now.”

Ophelia ducked away, almost as if Prudence had struck her. “There are far too many details to prep, Prudence. There is no way we could leave yet.”

They sat in silence.

“But what about if Tristan and I went ahead with her?” Eleanor suggested. “We could keep her company, and perhaps we could stop in France for a bit before we set off?”

France! Yes, what a delightful side trip. Prudence looked to Ophelia. They still had much to look over to see if it was possible.

“We can ask my father tonight at dinner,” Ophelia said. “Besides, it might be nice to have someone scout ahead.”

“Excellent!” Eleanor clapped.

At dinner, Lord Rascomb expressed interest, and Lady Rascomb suggested she might go along as well, to keep company with Prudence since newlyweds could sometimes be too caught up in themselves.

Prudence couldn’t taste the meal, but she drank her wine with enthusiasm, which made her queasy, and she excused herself from the drawing room after dinner.

When she awoke the next morning, she had a headache, but was pleased with herself for not crying. She took a quick, cold bath and changed into her day dress and went downstairs, suddenly famished. The hour was later than she thought, and the butler, Mr. Sellers, was directing the footmen in cleaning up the breakfast room. Prudence snagged a piece of toast and some coffee, which was all she really wanted anyway.

But after her coffee, Prudence couldn’t find the other women all morning. It was as if they had all vanished. She wandered from room to room, but they were not in their bedrooms or out of doors, training in the snow. Nor were they keeping company with Lady Rascomb in the drawing room. Prudence found a spot in the library where she amused herself reading some Sir Walter Scott.

“There you are!” Eleanor cried from the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you all over.”

Prudence looked up from her spot in the window and put her finger in the poetry book. “Me? I haven’t been able to find you lot.”

“Well, come with me now. We’ve made a plan, and I think you’ll absolutely adore it.”

*

After Prudence left, Leo sulked. And then he raged by taking long, cold walks around London. He drank some, with Granson, mostly. Then Eyeball came by for some year-end advice, which devolved into more drinking. Fortunately, no one mentioned Prudence.

Until his mother did. She entered with her usual flair, knocking his study door open at some ungodly early hour with her cane. The door hit the wall with a bang. “Granson, go to your room.”

Granson was on his feet instantly, though he wobbled from the amount of scotch they’d put down the night before.

“Your Lordship,” his mother said.

“Yes, Mrs. Moon,” came a reply from the floor, as Eyeball struggled to his feet. When he gained his feet, he faltered only a little, catching the chair to steady himself. “Mrs. Moon. Good morning.”

“It’s well past noon now. I’m asking you very politely now, Lord Grabe, to please get out of my house.”

“Yes, Mrs. Moon,” he said, taking a step and gulping as his giant body heaved in revolt.

“Potted plant in the hallway will do nicely,” she said as he made her way past her, and then Leo could hear the retching.

The sound did not bother him while he lay with his eyes closed. It was when he opened them that he could smell absolutely everything. Himself, the cushions, the scotch bottle that Lord Grabe had brought over to celebrate a new year.

When Leo sat up, his world spun and his stomach clenched.

“Water!” his mother called, and in came Jeffrey with an ewer. After Jeffrey left, his mother banged the study door closed with her cane.

“Your timing is impeccable,” he said, his voice rasping against his dry throat. She sank down in a nearby chair and watched as he drank directly from the ewer, and then used its accompanying bowl to splash his face.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded as his stomach flipped over. “Coffee?”

“It is on the way,” she promised. “But first I need you to answer some questions.”

He felt suddenly as if she were his captor, making promises in exchange for something she wanted. “Of course.”

“Why have I received a letter from Prudence Cabot lamenting the end of our friendship?” She held up a letter. “It’s postmarked from Paris.”

He snatched it away from her, desperate for word from her. He’d checked her hotel, but she wasn’t there, and then the next time he’d gone by, even her luggage was gone. The manager would give no forwarding address. He’d debated going to the houses of her friends, of going straight to Lord Rascomb, but then he felt too desperate and wanted to wait until he could think straight again.

My Dear Mrs. Moon,

I write to tell you how much I have valued your friendship, expertise, and strength during my time in London. You must know now that your son and I pursued a type of courtship that did not bloom as it could have. While I sincerely love our friendship, the tenor of my last conversation with Mr. Moon prevents me from continuing our acquaintance. It is too painful to consider the reminder, especially in light of what you shared with me regarding your past. One must value the relationships that protect and strengthen, not threaten and abandon.

I am now on my travels to Switzerland, and I ask you to watch the newspapers come June and July for reports of our successful ascent. The path will be grueling, but I know that I am capable of enduring hardship.

My sincere admiration,

Prudence Cabot

Leo let the letter drop into his lap. She was already gone. He felt hollowed out, as if his blood had been filled with ice and shattered. He looked up at his mother.

“What did she mean ‘threaten and abandon?’” Mrs. Moon looked quite serious.

Leo shook his head. “I didn’t threaten her.”

She lifted her eyebrows, looked expectant.

“She is accusing me of something I didn’t do,” he tried again. The horrified look on his mother’s face had him equally horrified when he realized what she thought. “No no no. No. Mama. Mother. I would never.”

She frowned, but still said nothing.

He cleared his throat, wishing he had some coffee. “Last summer, while you were away, I also went away, with Mrs. Cabot. Prudence.”

His mother canted her head when he said Prudence’s given name. But he’d have to grit his way through his discomfort for his mother to think him a decent human being. His father had not given her the best mold of manhood, and he couldn’t blame her for being skeptical.

“While we were away, in Thornridge, at the Garden Cottage—”

“You took her to Thornridge.” She blinked rapidly.

“Yes, I did, I thought—”

“—and you thought you could show up anywhere near Thornridge and your father would not find out you were there?” She thumped her cane.

“I wanted to show Prudence something beautiful, something I knew.”

His mother shook her head, and he knew she was thinking of him in disparaging ways. “And a few days in, Granson shows up at twilight, asking for a Lenny Morgan.”

His mother looked unimpressed. “You say that as if you expect me to realize something important.”

“It was very important! It made me uneasy. I am not typically aware of that particular sensation, and I wanted to get out of there as soon as I possibly could.”

“And that’s when you threatened her?”

“I did not threaten her. I never threatened her. I would never.” Leo sighed. Where was the blasted coffee? “She wanted to know who Granson was, why I was frightened, and why I wanted to leave. She insisted that she would stay in the cottage if I didn’t tell her everything, to which I agreed.”

“You agreed to stay?”

“No. I agreed that she could stay. But that I would leave.”

“So you said you would leave her to a stranger who frightened you?”

“It sounds terrible when you say it.” Leo’s head felt like it had been suddenly cleaved into two distinct halves. Both of which pounded. “And I only said it so that she would come with me.”

His mother made a noise of understanding and rocked in her chair, thumping her cane.

“So you understand?” he asked, feeling very relieved that his mother was on his side.

“Of course I do. And that was the threatening part. I love you dearly, Leo, but I hope you have adequately apologized.”

He sat back, stunned. “Well, I would have apologized.”

Again her eyebrows went up. “Would have?”

“If she would have seen me. I felt that an apology had to be made in person. But for months, she ignored my notes. I couldn’t help it if she didn’t want to see me.”

“Fair point, but you could have done some sort of gesture to let her know of your wish to speak with her.”

“I did! I went to her ball. I was there at midnight and raised the bidding to an extravagant amount!” Leo was sweating, and it smelled like the garbage heaps in summer.

His mother once again cocked her head at him, and he knew in his bones that she would not be taking his side. “The ball I forced you to attend. And pray tell me, who won the bidding to escort Prudence into the dining room?”

“Eyeball.”

They sat in silence. Jeffrey entered with a pot of coffee and a breakfast tray. The footman poured the cup, which Leo snatched up immediately. He drank it so quickly he scalded the roof of his mouth. The shame coursed through him. He hadn’t wanted to spend the money. The money that kept them fed and warm.

The money that had seemed so necessary and essential, because without it, Leo felt like he couldn’t breathe properly. But now his father was here. Granson was here. And that fist that had lived, knotted in his stomach, had relaxed and released. He no longer worried his father might arrive and take it all. His father was here, and surprisingly, was very thrifty.

If only his father had arrived before the ball, Leo would have acted differently. He would have to let Eyeball raise the price to the sky, and he would have still outbid.

His mother waited, looking enormously displeased. “Leo. I am your mother, and that means I will always be your champion. But when you act in counterproductive ways, it makes it difficult to cheer you on. Therefore, I must ask you, do you wish to have an ongoing relationship with Prudence Cabot?”

He looked out the window, dull winter afternoon sunlight gilded the nude tree branches. Could he even say what he wanted aloud?

“Tell me the truth, Leo. Even if you are embarrassed to do so.”

He closed his eyes, which was a terrible idea. The world spun until he opened them again. “Yes. I want more time with her. She—the time I spent—it was more—I mean, the happiness that—” He sighed and splashed the cold water from the ewer on the back of his neck.

“Very articulate, thank you. Do you think you might be in love with her?” His mother asked this question as if it were as simple as saying it.

“I don’t know. What does that word even mean?”

“It means, do you think you’ve made a terrible mistake in letting her go to the Matterhorn without telling her how you feel?”

Leo stilled. “I beg your pardon?”

“The Matterhorn kills people. That company of women might very well die this summer. Are you willing to let Prudence Cabot fall to her death thinking that you don’t care about her?”

“That’s ridiculous! Of course she knows how I feel about her!” Leo’s gut churned again. The Matterhorn was an abstract. The venture equally as mythical. But the letter said she’d already left for Switzerland. A panic started to rise in him, deep, as if manifesting from the earth beneath his feet.

“Does she?” his mother asked coolly. “Because you may be too late. She is traveling, which means she had no address. We don’t know where she’s staying in Switzerland, so you cannot send her a letter expressing your affection.”

“Are you trying to make me go to Switzerland?” he demanded.

“I’m asking if you want to go to Switzerland,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes wandered to the window, again looking at the tree, looking dead in winter, knowing that in a few months it would spring to life once again.

“I’ll leave you to think on it,” his mother said, and hoisted herself out of her chair. “But be honest with yourself. I’ll not have you moping around this house for nothing.”

*