“But not for you,” he guessed.
She nodded. “Not for me.”
“Because of Leo?” Grabe guessed.
Prudence gave him a smile that she hoped he would interpret any number of ways except the one he’d already guessed. “Mr. Moon reminded me that I cannot afford a misstep when a larger goal is in mind.”
“The Matterhorn, is that correct?” Grabe was all distant politeness now.
“It is. We’ve already conquered Ben Nevis without too much issue.”
Grabe chuckled. “The issue being the marriage between Miss Piper and Mr. Bridewell?”
Prudence grinned. “Exactly. But at least a marriage didn’t ruin our reputation. It only solidified it as being respectable. Which is, I think, how I’m going to make this event a success.”
“I do feel badly for causing you strife.” Grabe shoved his hands in his pockets. “May I write to you? I’ll look through the library and if I can find anything, I’ll let you know. Big parties, over-the-top celebrations, royal functions, that sort of thing.”
Gratitude spilled out of her. “That would be lovely. I cannot thank you enough for that gesture of generosity.”
“Just reserve a ticket for me. I am happy to pay full price. Especially if it is a masquerade.” He gave her a sleepy, impish grin that would have turned any other woman liquid.
“Of course. And I will bring your suggestion to Miss Bridewell. A masquerade might be just the thing to entice London.”
“Oh, well, if I get credit for the masquerade idea, then I request a dance as well. A naughty one.”
Prudence laughed. “You enjoy your reputation, don’t you?”
“I have to give the Ladies’ Gardening Society something to discuss, do I not?” Grabe opened his arms. “Let me walk you out.”
*
THERE WERE, OFcourse, the top three idiotic things Leo had done in his life. One had been thinking he could trust his father in a con. They’d been fast-talking a brutish-looking fellow in a freshly-tailored coat—typically a good mark. They’d been doing the sick child pickpocket routine, but the pockets on that coat were nowhere big enough for anyone’s hand. Leo suspected that was the point—a lure to find pickpockets and then beat them to a pulp. Instead, his father kept pressing the point, and Leo wanted to call off the job. But his father was already drunk and wasn’t picking up Leo’s cues.
He’d escaped with the brute’s cigar burn on his collar for his troubles, and his father had received only growls about controlling his boy. It had smarted, being blamed for his father’s misdeeds, and it made Leo resolve to never follow his father’s ploys again. Fortunately, his father had left shortly after, so at least the cigar burn earned Leo’s mother and him some peace.
The second most idiotic thing Leo had done was taking money for doing other boys’ homework. It had given him money when he’d had none, of course. But in the end, it gave the rich boys better marks. This led to them believing they were smarter than they actually were, and finding prestigious positions after school. Even Eyeball had taken his hard-earned money and given it to Leo for his brains. Now, Eyeball was wealthier, and a viscount. He had power, position, and good looks. Enough to woo a woman like Prudence into his sphere of influence.
The third most idiotic thing Leo had ever done was walking into Eyeball’s house and seeing her. But it was Eyeball who’d goaded him into it. Implying their relationship was already an intimate one. When he’d said she was “relaxing” in his library, Leo saw red. It was all he could do to keep his fists at his sides. But like an idiot, he’d flown to the room, needing to see theproof of it himself. But her hair was in perfect repair, her clothes unrumpled. Her notebook was out, for God’s sake. And he’d been a perfect fool.
She’d melted in his arms. Desire seeping from her pores, and he’d been tempted to take her right there. But even he wasn’t that stupid.
Leo looked down at his paper, full of scribbles of ridiculous verse. Odes to the curve of her neck, the grace of her capable hand, her confident stride as she faced down Eyeball, himself, even his mother. That perfect color of her honey-blonde hair as it shone in the light of the sun. How it looked twined in his fingers in the pale dawn light.
It was damned embarrassing. He was smitten like a schoolboy, frigging himself furiously all week, hoping that his fantasies of her would rid him of her image. It only made it worse. He woke up this morning hard as mahogany.
And then running to Eyeball’s townhome like a jealous husband, making a scene. If he thought logically—which he hadn’t since she’d sat down across from him and handily solved his filing code—he could see how her going out to such a public place as the opera was a good idea. That it threw off any suspicion of their involvement. That it heightened the appeal of the ball at the end of the Season. God, he’d been so stupid and jealous and he hated that he’d done it. That his temper had taken over in a way it hadn’t since he was barely out of leading strings.
When he was a boy, there was a maid at school who had captured his esteem, and he’d felt the same way about her that he did about Prudence. But he was a grown man now, with a business, money, and people who depended on him. He couldn’t be such a complete moppet about this whole thing. Men could admire women from afar and not lose their wits. Look at all the chivalric poetry of the thirteenth century, for example. It was utterly possible.
And if he weren’t completely daft, he’d be able to do so as well. Keep his mind and his cock separate. For that was what had driven him to this edge. Definitely not his heart—that organ was cold and shriveled and dead.
Then he heard the front door open, and Prudence’s voice. Leo stood, straightening his jacket and checking his collar. Was it starched enough? It felt strange. Perhaps a quick check in the mirror—the creaking of the front door stopped him in his tracks. Was she coming for him or his mother?
Cold sweat broke out under his arms. He needed water. And a new collar. This one was far too tight. No, this was simply undignified. He shook his head. It felt as if he were still in a dream, his mind clouded with the idea of her. The only reasonable thing to do was to go about his day as usual. If he felt like changing his attire, he would do so. But only to make himself more comfortable, and not because of her visit.
He threw open the door of his study. She was on the stairs, startled at the sudden movement. Her bare fingers gripped the railing, knuckles white. His mind immediately went to picturing bed linens fisted in hand. He gritted his teeth. That wouldn’t do. She stared down at him, her expression grim. Ah, so she was as disturbed about his appearance at Eyeball’s house as he was.
But he couldn’t tear his gaze from her. They stood dead-locked. There was no muscle in his body that could move. He was lucky that his heart managed to beat. It was his mother that broke their stand-off.
