And then, as if this had not been a fraught situation, as if Prudence’s heart had not been slamming painfully in her chest for several minutes, Leo turned and showed his back to the stranger.
“Reggie sends his regards,” the stranger called before he shuffled back into the darkness. Leo stilled, his eyes downcast, but he didn’t turn or say anything. Prudence listened to the sounds of a horse being untied and mounted. Only after the hooves beat into the dirt did Leo enter the cottage.
“What was that about?” Prudence asked as Leo joined her inside.
Leo smiled, finding another candle and touching its wick to her flame. “Just as you saw.”
“Someone asking for Lenny Morgan,” Prudence said.
“Indeed. Lenny Morgan owns the cottage. No doubt word got out that someone was staying here.” Leo seemed at ease again, the pomp of his London exterior receded. He opened the half-full bottle of Burgundy wine that sat on the table. He poured two glasses.
“I was nervous for us.” Prudence needed to talk about this. She’d been afraid for his life, and he was acting as if this was merely a continuation of their romantic sunset stroll.
“Undoubtedly.” Leo sipped. “But all is well.”
Prudence held a candle in one hand and a wine glass in the other. She sipped her wine. If Leo was fine with the encounter, then she supposed she had to be as well. But that night, as he stripped off his shirt and got into bed with her, she traced the scars on his torso. The ones that had become the invisible plane of his chest. The cuts and tracings that justwere. And now she wondered, between Granson and the bleached white stripes of those long-ago hurts, what was it that Leo hid from her? What was it that kept him quiet?
The next morning, Prudence was up early. She hadn’t slept well, waking up repeatedly over every noise. Leo was still awake before her. He was returning with the hamper when she met him outside, in the sunshine.
“Good morning,” he greeted her, clearly surprised at her consciousness.
Her stomach felt like a clenched fist, hard and aching. “Morning. I see you have our breakfast.”
“Indeed.” They settled at the outdoor chairs, each sipping at their own thermos of tea. Neither of them spoke as they watched the birds working through their mornings, finding food and moving from tree to tree. Both his sketchbook and his breakfast pie remained untouched. This was not the same as the quiet idyll they had the morning before. Tension simmered off him like waves of heat.
The sun rose higher, and Prudence thought about retrieving her parasol so that her neck wouldn’t burn.
“I think we should return to London early,” he said suddenly.
The words jostled her. “Why?”
“It’s not like we are accomplishing anything being here.”
She recapped her thermos and turned to stare at the man. “I wasn’t aware we were at a purpose. I thought we came to enjoy each other’s company.”
“And we have,” Leo insisted. “But my work is calling, and you have that party to prepare for.”
It wasn’t the words he used, it was the tone of voice. “That. Party.” Prudence stared at him, as if he hadn’t walked Bond Street with her all those weeks ago, getting prices and ideas, writing down every scrap of info to bring back to the Ladies’ Alpine Society.
Leo looked at her face and had the decency to look sheepish. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to belittle it. But we both have lives to return to.”
She narrowed her eyes. This didn’t seem right at all. “Does this have to do with the stranger who called on us last night?”
Leo shook his head, and if this had been two months ago, she would have believed him. But this was now, after four days of spending every waking moment together. She knew when he lied to make a joke, when he teased, when he exaggerated, when he felt overcome with emotion. And he was lying to her, and it wasn’t for a joke. He was lying for some other reason.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, folding her arms.
“Prudence, if it makes you feel better to believe that I’m spooked by a stranger coming to our door asking for a stranger, then fine. But the truth is, this was already due to end in two more nights. Why not just go now?”
“Because we have two more nights,” Prudence pointed out.
“And there are three hundred and sixty-five days in the year. It doesn’t matter. Let’s pack our trunks, and we can make the afternoon train. We’ll be back in London by dinner.”
“I don’t want to be in London by dinner. I want to be here. With you.” Prudence put her thermos down. “And I would wager that you would like the same, but for some reason, you feel the need to lie to me about that.”
Leo shrugged his shoulders. “Why would I? Prudence, this is a business deal. We’ve had a lovely time together, our bodies clearly work together well, but it’s time to go.”
“A lovely time?” Prudence could barely see straight.
