Leo inclined his head, wincing. She would be extravagant just to spite him. No feather, no jewel, no imported wine would be too good for Mrs. Moon.
He practically pushed her out the door and into the waiting carriage. Two footmen would accompany her, both to carry her should her knees ache too badly, and also to handle any and all packages she might accrue. He had no doubt she would return with the riches of the Empire nestled in ribboned boxes.
He asked for a tea tray to be brought to his study and then gave the remaining servant, the maid, the rest of the day off. The cook was asked to prep a supper of cold meats and cheese, and then she too was dismissed. Both women were happy to oblige Leo’s unprecedented whim.
So at four o’clock, when there was a knock at the door, Leo himself opened it. For it was not Eyeball coming to call.
Mrs. Cabot seemed taken aback. “Good day, Mr. Moon.”
“Mrs. Cabot.” He ushered her inside. “May I take your hat?”
She looked lovely. Her honeyed hair was in the same style as last week, with single curls escaping her coif, waiting for his greedy hands. The color in her cheeks was high, and it might have been the walk that caused it, or perhaps her anticipation of their meeting? A man could hope.
She wore a pink and cream day dress, with a tailored bodice to resemble a man’s coat. It should have had a masculine effect, but on her, there was no such thing as masculine. It emphasizedher slim waist, her strong shoulders, and pert breasts. He needed to stop staring.
“I suppose I should visit your mother first,” she said, not meeting his eye.
Was she nervous? “Then I ought to tell you my mother is out for the day.” He waited for her to look up at him. Instead, she glanced up the stairs at the drawing room.
“What is she up to?”
“Dining at Verrey’s, visiting the Queen’s chocolatier, and perhaps ordering dresses with the intent to bankrupt me.”
Her gray eyes finally met his, and she smiled. “From what I understand, that’s a herculean task.”
He raised his eyebrows, not bothering to keep his stoic mask in place. “Do you believe I am that wealthy?”
Her smile widened. Honestly, with teeth that perfect, it would be a shame not to show them. “Does the pope wear a funny hat?”
He sputtered, surprised. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that expression.”
“I hope I didn’t offend.”
He suspected that it was a test. Some way that she could see if he was tough enough to withstand her American manners. Her frontier spirit. “England is an Anglican nation. You’ll have to go to Spain to offend the Catholics.”
“Not what I meant.”
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing towards his study. He offered his arm. Any excuse to touch her. Strange as she was.
Almost hesitantly, she threaded her arm through his. He couldn’t look at her. Not this close. Not with her gazing at him, as if waiting for him to explain a magic trick.
His heart sped, but he walked them slowly to his study. The sitting area, off in the corner of the room, was rarely used, but it was where the maid set up the tea tray. His intent was to startoff casually, politely, then ease her into kissing and make plans for more. “Tea?” He steered them toward the chaise longue and chair.
She resisted, so he stopped. “Mr. Moon. We have business to attend.”
Her words weren’t sharp, but they were insistent. “I hoped we could discuss it over tea.”
Color rushed to her cheeks. “Notthatbusiness. Though that too. I mean our business that we never spoke of during our last encounter. The fundraising ball.”
He tried not to be disappointed, but he was. He dropped her arm and gestured to the other side of his room, where his desk sat. His desk, full of work. Full of demands. Full of numbers and columns and statistics and speculations. Definitely not full of a perfumed, honeyed woman who might melt in his arms, as if she were a lemon sweet.
“I’ll not disappoint my friends, Mr. Moon,” she said, sitting in the chair opposite his desk. She fished a paper out of her reticule and cleared her throat. “These are the numbers I’m currently anticipating. I’m not entirely sure what the party will entail, of course. Adjustments might need to be made.”
“Perhaps you ought to call me Leo,” he said, coming around his desk. He took the paper and opened the ledger for the Ladies’ Alpine Society. He read the list. “You have an item here for wild animals?”
“Yes. Miss Brewer’s idea. She thought wild animals would be a particular draw.”
“And how much ice?” He was utterly confused. Were they throwing a party or putting together a circus?
