“Georgie, please, speak your mind. You’ve more than earned the right. I cannot be mad at you when I’m the one who is in the wrong.”
Georgie nodded and said, “Don’t be ashamed of who you love.”
The sentiment hit Prudence as hard as a physical blow. Georgie was already leaving Prudence’s suite, no doubt to read or do something more productive than listen to Prudence flitabout spreading untruths. Prudence took a steady breath, her stomach churning. “Thank you, Georgie.”
There was something to be said for it, to hold one’s head high and refuse to be shamed. She wasn’t ashamed of being involved with Leo. She just didn’t want any shame to come to her friends as a result of her deeds.
So should she do this? Or should she not? Prudence squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly wishing for Gregory’s even-tempered mind. He was so good in a crisis. Especially an ethical one. He would ask,Is this for the greater good?
Prudence being naked with Leo? No. There was no greater good. It was inherently selfish on both of their parts. Neither of them had any intention of marrying, uniting their families, creating something greater than themselves. This was about the pursuit of pleasure.
Gregory would ask,Is it hurting anyone?
No, of course not. Leo enjoyed it, she enjoyed it, there was no harm befalling anyone. Well, unless they were found out. Both Leo and Prudence would weather the storm just fine. But would the Ladies’ Alpine Society? Would they weather it?
Prudence looked at her open trunk, with the pretty yellow and white dresses. The pink parasol with white ruffles. She could practically feel the sun on her shoulders—something she hadn’t felt since before she was seventeen. Since before Gregory.
But if she didn’t get on the train—he had already left for the cottage—how would he know she had decided to not go? How would she tell him? A letter? But how quickly would it reach him?
What if... she bargained with herself. What if she only went for a day? She didn’t spend the night. She just went for one day and then came straight back to London? Well, she would have to spend one night because of the train schedules. But surely thatwould be enough to satisfy Leo and assuage her guilt about going in the first place?
Yes. That’s what she’d do. She’d still get on the eight p.m. train—her tickets were already purchased. And Leo would pick her up at the train station. And then she would come home the following evening. It would be perfectly simple to take a cab back to the hotel, and she didn’t need Georgie at all. And then she could still make all of Ophelia’s training courses that she’d planned.
Yes, Prudence wrung her hands. One night. That was it.
Chapter Eight
ONE NIGHT INThornridge was not enough.
Nor was two.
On the third morning, she awoke to what seemed like a dream. The cottage Leo had procured was small but lovely: one large room, with an enclosed stove and a ready supply of coal (which they did not need nor use), and east-west facing windows that let in beautiful amounts of long-summer light. There was a pasture nearby, not close enough for them to smell the sweet scent of manure or compost, but near enough to hear the light tinkling of bells around the animals’ necks. Whether they were on cows or sheep, Prudence didn’t know or care.
Hampers of food were delivered to a nearby tree stump, pre-arranged by Leo, which gave them utmost privacy.
While the bells were tinkling in the distance, the sun from the opened window heated her shoulder, and the cotton sheets slid soft and smooth across her naked skin. She slept on her stomach when Leo wasn’t in bed. And his side was cool and emptied. But she could see his shoulder from the window, sitting in one of the garden chairs.
There was not another house for miles. The thick trees of the forest made it impossible for anyone to see them unless they were explicitly spied upon. Prudence loved it. She felt free and unwatched and relaxed. The mattress was nowhere as nice as the one in her Strawbridge Hotel room, but she preferred thiscottage, because it was next to the open fresh air, and it was a way to live unencumbered in the fantasy of Leo.
She wrapped herself in her white silk kimono—all the rage in London—and wandered outside in search of her lover. Her Leo. He was different here too. His shoulders weren’t tensed up to his ears, for one. He was better at making jokes, for two. And in a shocking turn of events, he kissed her freely, for no reason at all, for three. She’d never seen nor experienced that level of affection. It was strange. Welcome, but strange.
“Your tea, madame,” Leo said, holding up a slender thermos. It came in the morning hampers, and it was prepared just as Prudence preferred if she were drinking tea and not coffee: scalding hot with a strong brew and a touch of honey. She drank her coffee black, but she found here in England it was easier to drink tea. They still hadn’t gotten the whole coffee roasting quite right, and more often than not, she found herself with a burnt cup of lukewarm sludge. But switching to tea made her British friends more at ease, and Prudence didn’t mind.
Leo didn’t look up at her, his eyes on his sketchbook. Prudence peered over his shoulder to see a bird on his paper, matching the very bird sitting on the low stone wall surrounding the garden.
She sat in the chair next to his and sipped at her tea, still warm, thank goodness. The morning was almost gone, but Prudence didn’t care. The only thing she could think of was the sun on her face and the incredible contentment she felt.
Oh, she’d been satisfied before. Happy before. But not content like this. She’d been satisfied when she’d bought out some of the burgeoning railroad barons. She’d been happy at the top of Ben Nevis when she and the women around her crested its treacherous peak and screamed their accomplishment into the Scottish winds.
But here, with Leo, in a garden hosting the last of the summer blooms, a bird exploring the remaining bits of grains scattered on the stone wall, she felt content. Easy. Perfectly balanced in a world that was always tipping one way or another.
“If you weren’t concentrating so hard, I’d kiss you good morning,” she said softly, not wanting to disturb the bird.
She knew nothing of birds. It was brown and a bit speckled. She could tell you that. Or did they call that marbling? No, that was meat that was marbled. Well, and rock. Her knowledge of animals was less than stellar, but she would bet money on that creature being a bird, considering it had wings.
“I’ll take a kiss,” Leo said, hands still sketching. He moved his cheek over, making it available for a kiss.
She obliged. “What have you been up to all morning?”
