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

Chapter Ten - 2

Georgie and Prudence returned to the hotel, not speaking until they were in Prudence’s suite, safe from listening ears. They stared at each other.

“I should have used my derringer,” Georgie said, putting her reticule on the long thin foyer table.

“I can’t have you arrested for murder in England, Georgie,” Prudence tsked. “Far too much paperwork, and I bore easily.”

A smile cracked Georgie’s normally very placid face. “I’d claim that it went off accidentally. Silly me.”

“You don’t sound convincing.” Prudence paced. Mr. Morgan didn’t feel right. She and Gregory had analyzed men like him before, when trying to judge which investments to make. Who was a confidence man and who was a legitimate businessman who wouldn’t take their money and run?

Mr. Morgan had some elements of the trademark shiftiness—an overly formal, obsequious way of speaking. But was that just part of being English in a way she didn’t understand? He had acted as if he could only hope for her help, rather than showing triumph when she agreed to make contact in the future. She couldn’t see how he would benefit, but that was the way with confidence men. They tried to make it seem like they wouldn’t gain anything, to pull you into the scheme all the more.

“I hate to make you uncomfortable, Mrs. Cabot, but I will be accompanying you on your outings today.” Georgie was a solid girl. A farm girl. One of those from mixed-up bloodline families that had helped birth a calf when the calf was bigger than she was. Prudence admired her.

“Will you be bringing the derringer along as well?” Prudence asked.

“It is,” Georgie said, solemn as a funeral, “in my professional opinion, the best chaperone in the world.”

“I’d like to wait and call upon Mrs. Moon at proper visiting hours,” Prudence said, the clock dinging once as it struck thirty minutes past nine. “But I’m so knotted up over this, I don’t think I can.”

“Then we’ll walk slow,” Georgie suggested, as if that wasn’t what she did every day of the week.

They ambled, taking the long ways, winding through side streets Prudence had never bothered to explore. Still, Prudence was so anxious, she couldn’t match Georgie’s plodding gait.

It seemed like it took ages to arrive at the Moon residence. Prudence’s stomach turned flips as she composed herself. Georgie stared at her.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Prudence gave a quick wipe of her cheek with her glove.

Georgie shook her head. “Just wondering what you’re waiting for.”

Prudence huffed. “I feel like I’m out of breath.”

“Take your time,” Georgie said. Which seemed to be the girl’s entire life view.

Prudence took another steadying breath and knocked on the door. The footman opened it, surprised to see young ladies at the doorstep at this early hour.

“Mrs. Cabot,” he greeted. “Mrs. Moon is not available yet this morning.”

Prudence smiled, hating herself on the inside for harrying an old woman. “I understand. But I have a most urgent matter. Perhaps I could come in and wait?”

“Come in, come in,” Leo’s irritated voice echoed through the hallway. “Jeffrey, are you honestly going to make them stand on the doorstep like beggars?”

The footman flung the door open and admitted them both. But after closing the door, he just stood there.

“Take their hats, please, Jeffrey,” Leo said through gritted teeth.

It was so good to just look at Leo. It felt like the ball—only two days prior—had been weeks ago. And she’d not seen him between then and the train platform after the cottage. Her chest ached as she noticed his freshly shaven cheek, knowing what he smelled like, what kind of soap he used, even the feel of the bristles from his shaving brush. Suddenly she felt hollowed out. Must he be so gruff?

“Mrs. Cabot, and Miss er—” Leo trailed off, not remembering Georgie’s last name.

“Miss Pendanski, sir,” Georgie said.

“Delighted. Yes. Perhaps we can talk in my study until my mother is up and about? Jeffrey, fetch us a tray, thank you.” Leo ushered them into the room where Prudence had first met him. Had first let him put his hands on her. Had first felt the rush of pleasure from him.

Instead of going round to his desk, he led them to the sitting area. It was warm enough that there was no fire in the small hearth, and indeed, it had been swept clean for the season. Soon it would be cold enough to require a fire, even for Leo, who seemed impervious to heat or cold.

“Pardon me for being so forward,” Leo said, sitting stiffly on the edge of a chair as Prudence and Georgie sank onto the sofa, where Prudence had once flung her legs open for him to see her in reckless abandon. “But what brings you here at such an early hour?”

“A Mr. Reginald Morgan tracked me down at my hotel.” Prudence watched as Leo recoiled.

His eyes went wide and his gaze immediately went to the door. “Did he follow you?”

“Would he do such a thing?” Prudence asked. It seemed very rude. “I told him to return to my hotel on Friday and I would let him know then if I had found his son.”

“Is that what he said he was doing? Looking for his son?” Leo pressed.

“Well, yes, he said that he was owed money for the cottage rental, and there had been some confusion with the son and some property rights, and—”

Leo was on his feet. “That bastard. Property rights, my arse.” He went to his desk and rummaged around in the drawers. Not finding what he wanted, he headed to the door, nearly running into Jeffrey, who carried a tray with a teapot and toasted oatcakes.

“Where are you going?” Prudence snapped.

“I have to tell my mother. She needs to leave as soon as possible. Miss Pendansky, how do you feel about France?”

“Why France?” Prudence asked, just as Georgie was saying, “Never been.”

But Leo was out the door. Prudence had half a mind to go trailing after him, as she’d never seen him in a panic. Or a hurry. Or anything but completely in control of himself. Well, not always .

“Should I pour?” Georgie asked.

“Please.” Prudence couldn’t think about tea or oatcakes or anything at the moment. Why did Leo care so much about this Mr. Morgan. Was he actually Leo’s father? He certainly looked the part. That was something she didn’t doubt.

She sighed after the footman left the room. “He’d better get back here quick. I have too many questions.”

“You’re mad at him.” Georgie plopped a bit of sugar and milk in her teacup, but left Prudence’s untouched.

“Yes.” Prudence straightened her shoulders. She’d forgotten that because she’d been so busy puzzling over the strange connection. Her anger was subsiding. He’d wanted them both gone from that cottage, for whatever it was that connected him to Mr. Morgan. She wished for Gregory once again. Not as a husband, but as a people watcher. He was so good at getting at what men wanted, the whisper of truth that crawled beneath their words.

The only time she’d ever known Gregory to be wrong was about himself. He’d said that he wanted Prudence to be his wife, but he didn’t. Not really. Or if he did, it was that he couldn’t get over his shame of wanting her. Prudence didn’t know which. And she’d finally grown weary of wondering about an answer she’d never get.

Leo returned, his gait quick and purposeful. “Ladies. My mother has questions for you; she’s making her way to the drawing room.” The muscle in his jaw worked and flexed.

“Mr. Moon,” Prudence said, still maintaining their formal distance since Georgie was in the room. “What is going on? What is the urgency?”

Leo shook his head, his face a kaleidoscope of emotion as his expression morphed through difficult thoughts. “Mr. Reginald Morgan is a dangerous man.”

Prudence nodded, but saw the rest of his answer spelled out across his angular face. The face that looked so much like Mr. Morgan’s, who spoke of a son named Leo. “But is he your father? Biologically speaking?”

Leo winced. “Yes.”

“So you are Leonard Morgan, not Leopold Moon?” Prudence pressed. She didn’t even know the name of the man she had let into her bed. How had she become so reckless with herself?

“No. I was born Leonard Morgan, and I have legally changed it to Leopold Moon. There is nothing underhanded or shameful in what I did. If anyone cared to look, it has all been there in plain sight. I’ve not hidden a thing.”

Prudence tried not to feel a sting of betrayal. This was the loose thread of his secret. The secret so big that he would not share it with her—that she was not trusted enough to be party to. She had trusted him so quickly, letting him see all of her messy self, telling him about Gregory and their marriage bed. Her cheeks burned with shame. How foolish she was. So desperate to be wanted that she let this man, whatever his name was, worm his way into her heart. Leo went back and rummaged through his desk drawers again.

“But I would guess you did so in London, not in your home county?” Prudence had to keep her mind focused on the facts of what lay before her, lest he affect her judgement again.

“Yes,” Leo said, brandishing a small brass key.

“So the paperwork is here in London, which is not somewhere your father could get to, in order to find you,” Prudence guessed.

Leo turned to a lower cabinet in the great built-in shelves that sat behind his desk. He flung open the cabinet door to reveal a second, keyed door, which he unlocked.

“You never expected him to find you,” Prudence said.

“I hoped he was dead. I believed him dead, when he didn’t come and didn’t come.” The door revealed a safe, which he deftly opened. There was a stack of banknotes that Leo removed and set on his desk. Prudence’s stomach clenched. There was more than enough sitting on his desk for him to win a bid for her against Lord Grabe. But she hadn’t been worth it. Not worth the secrets, not worth the money.

“What is that for?” Prudence asked, trying not to let anger and disappointment flood her voice.

“That old bastard just wants money, that’s all. He wants to bleed me dry until nothing is left.”

“So you’re going to buy him off?”

“No, I’m getting all of us out of here. We’re running.”

“Why?” Prudence asked. This was absurd. Leo had more than enough to keep everyone for blocks in comfort, let alone one old man.

“You don’t know how dangerous he is. How devious.”

“I saw him not two hours ago. The man is old and frail, and half of his face barely works.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Prudence sat quietly, trying to parse out what exactly made the old man with salt-and-pepper hair and bright blue eyes dangerous. He certainly seemed mortal enough. As for danger, honestly, if she pitted Georgie against Mr. Morgan, she would bet on Georgie every time.

But this wasn’t her fight. It wasn’t her father, it wasn’t even her country. This was a property dispute between two men, a Mr. Morgan and a Mr. Moon. No, this was Leo showing her exactly how little she mattered to him.

“He liked to seem like he was more than he was,” Leo finally volunteered. “That’s how he got my mother. Pretending to be a lord, titled and rich, handsome, all that. Everything a woman could want. I don’t know how he knew she had a tidy sum squirreled away, enough for her to live on as an old maid, because that’s what housekeepers generally became. They married their job, not a man.”

Mrs. Moon appeared in the doorway, looking regal and striking. “That—” she interrupted with an imperious command, “—is not your story to tell.”

“Mama,” Leo started.

“Put the money away, Leo,” she said, her tone stern and warning. “We are in London. In our home. We are safe here.”

Prudence saw his youth, suddenly, there under the surface of the man he was. The way he’d been mistreated and unmoored, the fear and panic never completely gone. There were some ghosts that haunted, no matter how much time had passed.

Leo tapped the stacks of paper. Prudence could see his hands shaking. But then he acquiesced and put the money back in the safe, locking it away for some other emergency.

“Miss Pendansky, is it?” Mrs. Moon hobbled over, bearing her weight on her cane, as if her knee bothered her more than usual. “Please pour me a cup, if you wouldn’t mind. No cream.”

Georgie did as she was told, and both Mrs. Moon and Leo joined them at the sitting area. Prudence glanced from mother to son and back again, waiting for someone to explain, but neither spoke. She had missed her friendship with Mrs. Moon. The woman was incisive and sharp, and had a good mind for a funny quip. Perhaps one day Prudence could be friends with her again, but the rejection from Leo burned her from the inside out.

Prudence picked up her own teacup. “Leo once said that he held secrets that he would tell no one, not even me. I assume the identity of Mr. Morgan is at the root of that.”

Mrs. Moon took her cup from Georgie’s outstretched hand and looked over at Leo, who slouched in the chair next to her. “Well?” she prodded.

“Yes. My father was—is—a bad man.” Leo spat it out, as if it tasted bad to even speak it.

“He still gave me you,” Mrs. Moon said into her cup.

Prudence looked at the woman—truly looked. Leo had said she was a housekeeper? So she was in service, never expecting to marry. And then she ended up with a husband and a child, not to mention a beautiful house and social standing. That was quite a whiplash from her expectations.

“May I ask how you became a housekeeper?” Prudence didn’t want to be rude, but this was a story she didn’t want to miss. If this were the last time she would be able to visit Mrs. Moon, she wanted every juicy morsel from this woman.

“The way many young girls did. I went into service around the age of seven, scrubbing pots. Then I was a maid, and while I was young to be a housekeeper, it wasn’t that unusual, as more and more girls were leaving the countryside to go to the cities to work in factories, or find a man who worked in one. I was proud of myself for obtaining the position at such a young age.”

“As you should be,” Georgie said.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Moon replied.

Leo’s leg shook with nervous anticipation. He was so out of sorts. Prudence stared at him. He was like a completely different man—one she’d never known at all. Who was it that she’d known? A carefully curated disguise, and this was the real person underneath it all? Or was it the other way around?

“Perhaps you should go look out a window, make sure there are no lowlifes lurking about,” Prudence suggested. Mrs. Moon looked at her aghast.

But Leo was up in a flash, as if he could not bear to sit a moment longer. His mother watched him as he patrolled window by window, finally exiting the study to make a circuit of the house.

“It’s really quite unnecessary.” Mrs. Moon shook her head. “But let me continue the story. I haven’t been able to tell anyone, and I do adore a rapt audience.”

Georgie poured herself another cup of tea and grabbed an oatcake before settling back into the sofa, ready for a story, as if she were a child.

“I was a young housekeeper. Plain sort of looks, I think, but I ran a tight ship. The house was always clean, the larder stocked, and the butler and I worked well together. And then one day the master of the house brought home a guest.”

“Mr. Morgan?” Prudence guessed.

Mrs. Moon smiled. “Yes, but he styled himself Lord Lovelace at the time. He played on the strained connection to Lord Byron, thinking it made him seem more romantic. Not that he needed it. The man was beyond handsome. All the ladies of the county were taken with him. And all the maids, too. I had to issue a special warning to each of them to not be caught alone in a room with him, or else they’d get sacked.”

“You wouldn’t be so draconian!” Prudence said, shocked at the rule.

“I had to be,” Mrs. Moon said. “A pregnant woman cannot be a maid. The work is back-breaking, and the hours long. I couldn’t be constantly searching for replacement maids because of one pretty face.”

Georgie cracked a wide grin. “But you did, didn’t you?”

Mrs. Moon shook her head with fond exasperation. “I confess I was a hypocrite. There was little seduction involved. He’d been there for a week or so, always polite, the very image of a gentleman.” She sighed. “Which is how I should have known. Real gentlemen don’t notice the staff. Real gentlemen are class conscious. Looking back, I think he’d realized that none of the young ladies of the county had enough of a dowry, or had fathers too smart to be duped by the likes of him for the length of time it took to get to the altar. But a romantic housekeeper like myself? I was such a fool.”

“You were in love,” Prudence felt as if she were shriveling up as they spoke, a plucked flower crisped in the hot afternoon sun. Love only worked if both parties felt the same. The shame of learning you were the only one who cared was world shattering. “You weren’t a fool.”

“Same thing, in the end, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Moon said, still smiling. “We were caught by his valet, who I came to realize was his partner in crime. He told the butler, and I was sacked that afternoon. I had to go to the bank to retrieve some funds to pay for a boarding house. I think he saw the bank slip, for I’d asked for my account balance. And there it was. He asked me to marry him.”

“Just like that?” Georgie asked.

“Oh, he was a beautiful man. But yes, just so. We applied for special license, given the circumstances, and were married a fortnight later. Leo came nine months later.” Mrs. Moon smiled. “And he became my light.”

Prudence cocked her head. “Your light?”

Mrs. Moon set her teacup down on the table. “My time with Mr. Morgan—who turned out not to be Lord Lovelace, as you know—grew very dark. He was not exactly an unkind man, but he did so hate to be bored. And poverty is so very boring. He drank up every cent we had, and when we ran out, he would threaten to leave me penniless in the streets with my child.”

“Why didn’t he?” Prudence asked.

Mrs. Moon smiled. “It’s a bit silly.”

“I would desperately like to know.” Prudence wanted to know how any woman navigated a world set up for a man. Crucial bits of information were needed, could be shared, could be used for greater good.

“When you live in a small village, everyone knows everyone. My father had once saved the bank manager from drowning. It was when they were boys, but my father had jumped into the lake, where the boy’s ankle was trapped or something of the sort, and pulled him out. When Mr. Morgan would go into the bank run by the bank manager who knew me and was indebted to my deceased father, there would always be some problem. As a married woman, he was entitled to my funds, but only if they could ever be verified to exist. Mr. Morgan could never manage to get all of my savings all in one go.”

“So they knew?” Prudence asked. “The people of the village knew that Mr. Morgan was... bad?” Using Leo’s word felt strange.

“‘Bad’ seems to me an overstatement. Giving Reggie more forethought than he possessed,” Mrs. Moon said. “But the villagers didn’t trust him. They saw him sleeping off a bender in the public square. They knew about the extended credit with the grocer, noticed how threadbare our clothes were. One can only mend a child’s shirt so many times.”

Mrs. Moon’s brow furrowed, the memories catching up to her speech. “When Leo got older, Mr. Morgan took him along to help with his schemes. I hated it, but what could I do? Leo idolized his father, and then feared him. And then began to believe it was his duty to go.”

“Oh,” Prudence whispered. She thought of the scars she’d traced on his torso. The circular burn. All the other smaller nicks and pale marks that lived on his skin. The experiences that could never be forgotten.

“One day, amid a long stretch of Reggie’s prolonged absence, I forged his signature on the bank card. Miraculously, the bank manager was able to find all the remaining money in the account that day and gave it to me. I whisked my son to London. I worked, sent him to the best school, because he was a smart boy, oh, he was smart. Chip on his shoulder as wide as Britain itself, but smart.”

“When did you change your name?” Prudence asked.

“As soon as we arrived.” Mrs. Moon looked down. “It’s not that I was ashamed. It was that I was scared. I kept the same initials, since I’d monogrammed everything over the years. But I altered a certificate of marriage to show I was married to a Mr. Moon, not Morgan, and changed our names. It wasn’t hard, really, if you had enough ready money.”

“And you had enough?” Prudence asked. Leo acted as if they had been starving, so which was it? The moment the specter of his father loomed, Leo had become a different man.

Mrs. Moon winced. “Yes and no. I was in debt, but Leo was so good with numbers. So very good. And once I finally told him of our predicament, he solved it straightaway.”

“His schoolmates. They had money. And he did their work for them.” Prudence started fitting the pieces together.

“I’m not proud of myself for leaning on a young boy for financial help. But the world was not made for a woman to work and support herself and a child. It was difficult. And that was with both of us having a decent education.”

“You should be proud of yourself,” Georgie said again. “You’ve done well.”

“Only because of Leo,” she smiled.

And then there was a knock at the front door.

*

Leo’s pulse hammered like he was about to enter the worst fight of his life. In fact, he was ready for one. He’d pictured this day so many times over the years. What he would say, what he would do. Sometimes there would be a scathing monologue, but typically he’d envisioned throwing fists before even letting the man over the threshold.

How could his mother be so calm? This man had ruined her life. Every bit of it. He’d taken her independence, her money, her dignity. He still sometimes had nightmares of the thinness of her arms, how bulbous her wrists looked in comparison, as she had slowly starved so that he could eat.

But the money had belonged to Reggie and what he did with it was his business. Regardless if his wife and child starved in front of his eyes. Sometimes Leo believed Reggie drank all their money out of spite. He wasn’t a man to raise his fists, but he wanted to punish his mother for not being the mark he’d believed her to be. She was stronger and calmer and smarter than Reggie, which was the most heinous sin she could have committed in Reggie’s eyes.

There was nothing that made Reggie Morgan madder than someone who truly was better than him.

When Leo grew big enough, he’d tried to help his father make more money, in the hopes his father would be satisfied. But there wasn’t enough gold in the world to satisfy Reggie Morgan. Because it wasn’t only the money, it was prestige. All the things a low birth prevented. Odd, then, that somehow, despite Reggie Morgan, Leo had managed to garner that wealth and status Reggie had craved. Leo and his mother attended London balls and rubbed elbows with titled men and women. As the man of the house, Leo had done what his father could not.

And since Leo was the man of this house, he could protect its occupants how he liked. Leo could defend his territory, his women. His hands shook as if he were still that hungry child.

The knock at the door startled him. His blood thrummed. Jeffrey looked at him; he was tall and handsome as all footmen were somehow required to be, but he was an idiot. Leo pulled at his clothes, smoothing any wrinkles. “I’ll be in my study,” he told Jeffrey, nodding at the door.

Jeffrey thankfully was smart enough to wait until Leo had gone past the threshold of his room before he opened the door.

Leo heard the voice. He knew that voice even after the fifteen-odd years since he’d heard it last. It was raspier than it had been. Not as threatening and full. Still subtly slurring his words. Leo made his way to his desk, aware that the women all watched him. His mother appeared at ease, but he could see the strain in her jaw as she clenched it. How her posture went falsely rigid—the way a person braces for the impact of a blow. He hated seeing it. The woman he’d remembered her as—gaunt, eyes made larger from lack of flesh—overlaid the plump older woman who sat before him.

Prudence stared at him, her gray eyes wide in surprise and wariness. God, she was pretty. He’d mucked the whole thing up, and after this business with his father was sorted, he’d make things up to her. He wanted her around. He liked having her around. More than anything, he wanted to have time at Thornridge, the two of them sipping morning tea in the sunshine, making love with a cool afternoon breeze wafting in through the open window. He’d give anything to go back in time and outbid Eyeball. He’d happily pay well more than eleven hundred pounds now. This was a nightmare to have her embroiled in the debacle that was Reggie.

“A Mister Reginald Morgan, sir.” Jefferey bowed as he admitted Leo’s father. It was completely unnecessary for Jeffrey to bow, but it did make the impact on Reggie Morgan, who looked around the room, no doubt assessing the value of every piece in it.

His father looked old . It was hard to miss the left-sided limp. The droop to his face. The left arm that was smaller than the right, and curled up in a tight slender fist, as if it might never unclench again. “You’ve done well for yourself, Len.”

“Leo,” he corrected. While his father and those men called him Len or Lenny, it was his mother who’d always addressed him as Leo. Her lion. And he meant to live up to his name.

“Of course. My mistake. Ah, and Mrs. Cabot and Miss Pendansky, lovely to see you again so soon.” Reggie turned to address them, and again, Leo had the opportunity to see how the man’s body had diminished. Reggie was in an old man’s body. But Reggie had never had an old man’s mind. He couldn’t let his father prey on any of them. He wouldn’t allow it.

“I thought you called him Leo,” Prudence said softly. “Your little lion.”

Reggie’s head bobbed this way and that. “Leo, Len, does it matter? He can be both.”

Leo stood, his heart wrenching when he realized that Reggie had already begun lying, but also realizing his father would never make it all the way across the room without assistance. The white-knuckled fist of his diminished hand looked painfully contracted.

“And there she is,” Reggie said, grabbing his chest in overdramatic theatrics, and ignoring any censure from Prudence. “The love of my life. My heart, my reason for living.”

“Good morning, Reggie,” Leo’s mother said. Her voice betrayed nothing. No fear, no apprehension. Calm and cool and collected, as she’d always been.

“Morning, Lena.” Reggie gave her a wide, lopsided smile. Leo came around the side of the sofa quickly enough that he saw his father attempt his seducer’s smile. The one that had bewitched her.

Glancing at his mother, he was terrified she might succumb to this man that she’d once loved—for she had loved him, hadn’t she? Had she used that word about him? He couldn’t remember now. But his mother’s placid expression still held.

“Won’t you have a seat?” Mrs. Moon said. “It is a relief, is it not, to let our old bones rest a bit?”

Was she baiting him? Leo’s pulse leapt at the thought, terrified that he’d have to make the seven-foot distance between them if his father was upset. But no.

Reggie Morgan sank gratefully into the chair next to his mother. “You’ve called it correctly, love. The things we used to do aren’t so easy now, are they?” He winked at her, and his double-entendre made Leo’s stomach churn.

For her part, Mrs. Moon tittered. Like a schoolgirl. Damn it, he was going to have to bodily haul his father out of this house before his mother fell to his charms again. “Reggie, if I believed for an instant you could still do that, I wouldn’t have let you in the house.”

Leo’s mind felt like a curdled milk. His mother was dealing with Reggie far better than he was. How could she forgive him like this? How could she wipe away the neglect and hurt?

“Might I have a bit of tea? Always helps.” Reggie looked at the ladies, no doubt noticing the extra cup waiting on the tray. The cup that was meant for Leo. Miss Pendansky leaned forward and poured. “I do better in the mornings. It’s after I’ve walked a bit, my hip stiffens up and I have a bit of a go.” Miss Pendansky handed him the teacup and saucer, which Reggie took with obvious relief. “Cheers, love.”

His mother, for her part, put down hers and folded her hands into her lap. “Reggie. After all this time. What precisely is your aim in visiting us?”

Reggie had time to take a sip and make innocent calf eyes at her before he was forced to respond. The man had the audacity to look at Leo. “Can I not catch up with my very successful son? Take pride in his accomplishments?”

“So you need money?” His mother’s tone was crisp, but not terse.

“Lena,” Reggie cooed, drawing out her name.

“I want to be clear about why you’ve come.”

Reggie reached his hand out, and Leo was up like lightning. The hand that was about to touch his mother’s knee never made it to its destination. Reggie’s teacup rattled on his lap and spilled onto his trousers.

“Don’t touch my mother,” Leo growled.

“What’s this?” Reggie said, irritated, brushing the beaded liquid off his trousers. “How do you think you got made in the first place?”

Behind him, Prudence coughed politely into her hand, reminding them that there was an audience for this family drama. Leo was embarrassed that she had to witness this. All of the worst of him on display for her to judge.

“Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Moon. I very much appreciate seeing you again,” Prudence said, getting to her feet.

“Mrs. Moon?” Reggie echoed, then moaned in a playful tone. Leo could see all of Reggie’s clumsy manipulations laid bare. “Not you, too, love.”

For the first time since Reggie walked in, his mother looked down. Her fingers clenched together, making strange shapes in her lap, her knuckles going white with the pressure. “I assumed you didn’t mind, since you had set up housekeeping in the next county over. What was her name? Tabitha? Tara? Talia?”

Reggie’s mouth gaped open, as it always had when he was called on the carpet for his own wrongdoings. He shook his head, making unintelligible noises. “You moved to London without me. What was I supposed to do?”

“That was long before London, Reggie,” his mother said. “There was a boy, wasn’t there? I’d say he would be about twenty-five now?”

Leo was shocked. This was new information. He suddenly felt like a child, being coddled and isolated. Why wasn’t he allowed to know? Why couldn’t he have a family? Why was he left out of the lives of all these people? Shame coursed through him, hot and liquid, that Prudence knew dirty secrets about his family that even he hadn’t known.

Reggie looked grim and serious. “He was Reginald Morgan Junior. And he died of a fever when he was about ten. So.”

His mother didn’t look at Reggie with pity. “So.”

Prudence stood stock still, as did Miss Pendansky. Leo had to admit, he would have no idea how to exit this room either. There was absolutely no graceful way to watch a train derail.

“And your daughter?” Lena asked, still polite.

“Daughter?” Leo asked.

Reggie cocked his head to the side as if he were being put upon. “She’s gone as well. I’m not sure what it was. Some kind of sickness in the last few years.”

“I liked her, if that is any consolation.” His mother’s voice was calm and kind, which Leo didn’t know how she managed.

“You met her?” Leo asked. He didn’t realize he had any siblings, let alone two of them. And those were just the ones Reggie had admitted to having. The ones his mother knew about. He suddenly felt his world turn upside down. Since childhood, he’d believed that he had protected and cared for his mother, not realizing how different her perspective had been. How much information she’d had.

If he’d ever admitted to his mother how terrified he’d been that his father would find them again, would she have told him that he’d carried on with a new family the next county over?

“Of course, that’s where Granson came from.” His mother let loose all her knowledge with such casual indifference. “The boy’s real name is William, I believe?”

“You’ve an excellent memory, Lena,” Reggie said. “I liked having a grandson. Couldn’t stop bragging about him, so the name stuck.”

Leo felt another stab of betrayal. He was not that much older than Granson. He’d been prouder of his grandson than his actual son. This grifter, this thief. How could Leo feel so hurt by a man who valued nothing?

Prudence let out a low huff of a laugh. “Granson. Because he is your actual Grand. Son.” Leo felt as if he’d accepted an invitation from Eyeball to go a few rounds in a boxing ring. He wanted some of Prudence’s sweet Kentucky bourbon, and then he wanted to go to bed. Preferably with Prudence snug in there with him so he could smell her and be comforted by the warm weight of her body next to his. But she’d never lie next to him again. He’d had hope before, but Reggie waltzed in and pulled the walls down.

“We should really be going,” Prudence said.

“I would get up for you, but...” Reggie trailed off, gesturing to his tea-stained lap.

“Don’t fret, Mr. Morgan,” Prudence said. “We can see ourselves out, Mrs. Moon, Mr. Moon.”

The two women hustled out of the room. Leo didn’t blame them. This was no place for them to be. Leo watched them go, and wished they were staying. Or rather, he wished that Prudence were staying, as even her presence was a steadying force for him. Even if they were at odds.

“I am staying at a boarding house at the moment, with Granson. Since I came all the way to London to see you, I thought you wouldn’t mind paying the bill, Len.”

This was how it started. He shook his head because he knew he was going to agree against his better judgement.

“Of course, we could reunite the family, and we could move in here. Certainly looks like you’ve got the space. And a footman, too! I bet you’ve got an excellent staff. Ol’ Lena wouldn’t let anyone slide. Excepting herself, of course.” Reggie winked at her.

“I’ll pay the hotel bill, but nothing more. Please get out.” Leo didn’t have the energy to put a snap in his voice as he said it.

“Well, then there’s the business of a hack,” Reggie said.

“I’ll pay that too,” Leo said. “Just leave.”

“Fine, fine. I can go. But I hope we can get reacquainted in the coming weeks. I’m an old man, and I don’t know how much more I’ve got left in me. I’d like to make amends before I die.”

Leo didn’t believe him for one instant. He stalked into the hall, where Jeffrey stood by in the foyer, clearly unsure of what to do with himself.

“Mr. Morgan requires a hack. Flag one down, I’ll pay for it. But get that old bugger out of here.” Leo trudged up the stairs to his bedroom. Perhaps it was childish of him to not say goodbye. But he knew he hadn’t seen the backside of Reggie Morgan.