She needed help. Though the women of the Ladies’ Alpine Society would help, no question, none of them had an eye for this sort of thing either. But she knew who did.
Mrs. Moon.
*
LEO RETURNED FROMhis walk in the park. It was a daily exercise he required, but the moment he saw the Eyeball on his massive horse, he hid behind a tree. The man would make a convenientcover for his indiscretions with Prudence, but Leo couldn’t forgive him for who he’d become. They’d once been comrades in their boyhood ostracization, but Eyeball moved on. Leo had only been able to turn his once-distasteful academic prowess into a successful cash flow.
As he handed off his hat and walking stick to the footman, he heard his mother talking up in her drawing room. The woman’s voice could carry across whole neighborhoods once out of doors. “Who is Mother speaking to?” Leo asked the footman.
“Mrs. Cabot is here,” the footman said before excusing himself to tidy away Leo’s possessions.
Leo frowned. Prudence wasn’t supposed to be here. Their appointment was for tonight, at her suite. He crept up the stairs, but he forgot to avoid the telltale creak of the fourth step.
“Leo is home. Leo!” His mother called. “You may join us.”
He winced. The last thing he wanted to do was pretend indifference to Prudence in front of his mother, who knew every single small tell he had. He took a grudging breath, the kind of heavy sigh he knew she would hear. This was acting, and hadn’t he played so many roles in his short life? His father would have him be anything from a penniless orphan to a rich boy lost in the woods. Whatever it took to lure in unsuspecting and unscrupulous wealthy travelers. He imagined he was about to have tea with Eyeball. That ought to do it.
He entered the drawing room, his feet heavy with dread.
Prudence was stunning. She wore a peach day dress, the sleeves stopping at her elbows and flaring with short ruffles of cream-colored lace. The collar at her neck—where he’d lavished kisses just yesterday—was high, brushing those escaped tendrils of hair. When she turned to look at him she smiled her American smile, the one he’d resented when first they met.
But he understood it now. Just as his steel façade was his armor against the world, so was her wide smile. It kept people atbay, making them not want to ask questions or dig any deeper. Implied that the person beneath it was one-dimensional and not worth the effort. But he knew Prudence was anything but boring or vapid, despite that Atlantic Ocean–sized smile.
“Mr. Moon,” she said, from her perch in his mother’s damask chair. “It’s so wonderful you could join us.”
His mother fairly beamed at him. Prudence—no, he must call her Mrs. Cabot, even in his mind. Mrs. Cabot was working some kind of wiles on his mother. He sat next to his mother on the matching damask couch.
“Daisy, fetch another cup!” his mother shouted to the maid downstairs. He flinched, her voice ringing in his ears.
“Mother. That is what the bellpull is for.”
“My knee hurts. I refuse to stand.”
“I could get you a bell to ring from here. A pretty silver one. Wouldn’t that be better?”
She grumbled. “You always have a solution, don’t you?” It was a question, but it didn’t sound like a question.
He didn’t want to bicker with his mother in front of Prudence, but he couldn’t resist one last barb. “Only when there is a problem.” He turned to face their guest. There was intricate cream-colored stitching down the front of the bodice that trailed onto her skirts. He swallowed hard, banished the thoughts of his hand following the stitching like a guide in the dark to find her petticoats.
He coughed. “Mrs. Cabot. What brings you here today? I don’t believe we have an appointment.”
“Daisy! A cup! Mr. Moon’s throat is dry!” his mother yelled.
Leo looked up at the ceiling, wishing to be anywhere else but there.
Prudence—no, Mrs. Cabot, damn it all. Mrs. Cabot looked at him with the same polite distance that he had addressed her with. “No, I came only to see your mother. I need advice.”
He narrowed his eyes. “On what?”
Oh, his mother could give advice, but none of it on topics Prudence should need. Well, that wasn’t quite true. His mother had an encyclopedic knowledge of stain-removal techniques.
“How to make a lavish party appear more lavish.”
He shook his head. “And why would she be the person you would go to for this?”
Mrs. Cabot raised her arms, gesturing to the drawing room. “I’ve been a guest in some of the most lavish drawing rooms in London. I’ve seen the rooms of a duchess. But nonefeelas rich as this one. Why?”
Leo looked around, trying to see it not as his mother’s haven, but as a room unconnected to her. He shook his head. “I haven’t the foggiest.”
